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jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue · 7 months ago

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Our Little Love part eight - OT7 Mafia/Yandere au

Mr Kim has a chapter all to himself of 6.8K words, please enjoy and PLEASE let me know what you think. Trigger warnings: manipulation, coercion, corruption, interrogation, mentions of murder and other crimes, swearing, jealousy, possessive yandere behaviour, fingering, orgasm denial, mirror sex, light choking. I am awful with warnings, please forgive me.

Namjoon wasn’t all that impressed with seeing the Chief of police visiting his cell, the syndicate boss was dressed too well to belong there, it was almost an eyesore. A glance to the camera, the normal red blinking light absent tells him all he needs to know. There were no eyes or ears to this conversation.

“I thought I paid you to keep your men in line,” Namjoon says in lieu of greeting. “Was a bullet to the knee not warning enough for your dear Captain?”

“He wasn’t an issue when I spoke to him, the man was on leave!” the chief replied. “Your girl was the problem he-”

“Be very careful how you finish that sentence,” he advised with a deep angry rumble from his chest. “I am well aware who is at fault here, and regardless of what our little love does, she is never to blame.”

Chief Lee Soo-man only nods once, biting back his complaints.

“I asked you to sort out Kim Suho, I told you to keep him in check,” Namjoon growls. “Keeping your pockets full isn’t an act of charity Lee, it’s a purchase. I own you.”

“Yes sir,” he mumbles in response. “I assure you this arrest is just a formality, the case won’t stand once it’s revealed Detective L/n-”

The glare the man in the blazerless three piece suit gave him was enough to stop him in his tracks. Right, he couldn’t involve you in this, that was going to make things harder than they needed to be.

“What do you recommend then sir?” he asks when he finds his voice and wavering courage.

Namjoon sighs harshly, and the Chief swears he can almost see smoke.

“I want to be alone with my little love,” it’s not a request, the chief didn’t let the soft lilt of his fool him.

“I don’t know how that would be poss-”

“I want-” Namjoon cuts in, unable to bear another second of this blithering idiot, “her to be the one to interrogate me. And I can trust you understand the rest.”

“Y-yessssir,” he stutters, not completely hearing the words between the lines, and that was clear enough on his face.

“I want her alone, Sooman,” Namjoon repeats himself, if this were one of his men he would never have needed to. “I don’t want a single soul witness to what I’m going to do to her.”

—

Suho tugs you along by the arm, stumbling in his urgent pace, pulling you out of ear shot.

“We have a problem.”

“What problem?”

“I’m technically on health leave, brass says I can’t interrogate him,” he stares a hole into you as if his eyes were telling you the rest but you couldn’t understand.

“Okay so who’s replacing you?”

He huffs out a breath of air from his nose, knowing you weren’t going to like the command from way over his head.

Your heart beats hard in anticipation, why was he looking at you like that?

“As far as Brass are aware you were deep undercover,” Suho informs you slowly, deliberately, looking like he was about to tear your world to trash. He sighs, unable to get the words out.

“Suho what?”

“They want you to interrogate him,” he breathes, you think you’ve misheard him, but you know you haven’t.

Your world spins, you’re already shaking your head.

“I can’t,” you whisper, he knows full well that you can’t. “I resigned, I’m not a detective anymore.”

He sighs again, hesitation in his eyes.

“I never processed it,” he confesses.

“Y-you di-”

“I couldn’t, I knew you would see reason, I knew you would come back,” he doesn’t let you process the shock, explaining himself quickly.

“Suho I can’t I can’t,” you beg, the conviction you had to punish them now suddenly taking a back seat as fear overtakes you, “right now they believe I was deep undercover but he’s not going to let that-“

“Listen to me,” he interrupts you before you can fully submerge into a panic attack, taking your hand in his. “I’m going to be in the next room, as soon as he says anything that compromises you, I’ll turn off the cameras, okay?”

“But-“

You’re interrupted again when the door opens, both of you whipping your heads to see him being transferred by four officers to the interrogation room. His eyes find you, staring stoic holes into you before his gaze finds Suho’s hands comforting yours. The snarl of displeasure is brief but you definitely see it, and you can’t breathe.

Suho draws your attention back to him, tugging your hand softly.

“Do you trust me Y/n?” he implores you, eyes searching yours in a way that made Namjoon want to strangle him with the chains on his handcuffs. You look up at your Captain with such light in your eyes, a way you should never look at another man, and then you have the audacity to nod.

—

You’ve done this a hundred times, if not more. So why were you hesitating at the door? Your hand on the handle, all you had to do was turn it and face the music but you couldn’t even manage finding your breath.

Interrogation was a science, it was like riding a bike, you knew what you had to do, you had to command the room. It almost sounded like a joke, the worst one you’d ever heard. Command a room when Kim Namjoon was in it?

The thought makes you hyperventilate. No, it wasn’t going to be easy but you could control what you could. You borrowed clothes from an old colleague, a skirt and blouse, simple but professional. Suho’s old blazer too, as if layers would protect you. You had splashed water on your face in the bathroom, using makeup from evidence to make yourself look presentable, composed. Your impromptu freshening up had meant you left the syndicate leader waiting for a long time, and it absolutely 100% was not because you were trying to kill time, it was to make him stew in the room, a technique you had used multiple times prev- who were you trying to convince?

You needed to get this over with.

Your face is impassive when you finally open the door, his gaze is on you immediately and you can feel a certain type of guilt and shame try to seep its way into you, but you push it down far enough that you can pretend it’s not there.

“Mr Kim Namjoon,” you greet him stoically.

“Detective L/n,” he returns, playing along with a small smile, as if seeing an old acquaintance after a long time. The way he addressed you shouldn’t cut you, logically it made no sense not when you’re the one that got him in the box, but it did.

You approach the table he’s chained to, looking at the wood instead of his eyes as if he didn’t matter, or at least that’s how you wanted it perceived. Avoiding eye contact with the most dangerous man the whole country had ever come to know, meant you missed the way his stare moved to your clothes, particularly your blazer, recognising it was a man’s, and he could confidently guess exactly who it belonged to. Any friendliness on his face disappeared, he wanted to play games and now he just wanted to torture you a little, punish you for you actions. Patience, he tells himself, that would come later.

The file in your hands slaps the table as you throw it down, taking a seat opposite your boyfriend, a man you now convinced yourself you wanted behind bars.

What do they say about a woman scorned? Namjoon thinks to himself, admiring the fire he could see burning underneath your skin, and though he knew he would feel the burn, he would welcome it. It was no secret that he had a fantasy about you interrogating him, he introduced the role play to the bedroom soon after your return to them but it lacked the flames of heat he could feel today.

“Allow me to formally introduce myself,” you reply. “My name is detective Y/n L/n, I’ve been undercover at your… establishment for the past year and a half.”

“Is that right?” he barely suppressed his amusement but it didn’t phase you. Your professional head was on, this was just another criminal you had to put away, that was it.

You open the file, sliding out photos of him that you had sent in as intel in your early days undercover as well as surveillance photos that Suho had taken since you were MIA.

“Do you know who this man is Mr Kim,” you say, sliding the first of the photos to him.

“Can’t say I do detective,” he shrugs nonchalantly, not even glancing away from you.

“Do you want to try looking at his face first before you answer,” you insisted unimpressed.

He smiles, still staring at you.

“I don’t recognise him,” he repeats himself slowly.

“So this isn’t you in the photo?” You ask.

“I don’t know,” his grin only grows.

“This man, Jackson Wang, is dead, and the last person who saw him alive seems to have been you Mr Kim, at least based on the time stamp on this photo and the time of death from the post mortem.”

“Is that right,” he says again, sounding like a broken record. His eyes swim with admiration for you, you can see it though you can’t understand it at all with the current scene. Why wasn’t he fuming, why wasn’t he demanding an answer or explanation?

“Okay let's cut the crap since I know you’re far too clever for that Mr Kim,” you scoff with a roll of your eyes. “I have gathered evidence of your crimes from the last 18 months, and I will stand in court as a witness against you.”

“Are you allowed to do that little love?” he asks, the name has a pang of panic hit you, but you tell yourself you can explain it away to brass.

“The charges you're facing so far are murder, battery, and grand larceny to name a few,” you state ignoring him, flicking through the photos, throwing each one in front of him. “There are many more to follow.”

“I didn’t know partners could testify against each other,” he mused, smirk still strong on his face.

“I’m not your partner,” you object. “I was undercover.”

“No,” he contends, shaking his head like this was just a game to him. “You can’t fake a love like ours, heaven.”

You almost snort as if his point was ridiculous.

“I don’t think I could ever love someone like you Mr Kim,” your stare was ice cold, that finally wipes the smile off his face.

“You’re angry,” he states as if it was new information for you. “I get that little love, but this is a bit too much, don’t you think?”

“I think justice needs to be served, don't you?” you sneered. “People got hurt, some people died, someone needs to pay.”

“You and I both know they deserved it,” he declares as if there wasn’t a camera recording his confession. “You’re just angry because I stepped on a bug.”

Utter rage brewed like a storm in your chest, and you wanted the downpour to drown him.

“You sound like you’re ready to sign the confession Mr Kim,” you don’t break your stare. “That’s great, saves us a lot of time, thank you.”

You close the file, pushing the chair back to stand.

“I’m not done with you,” he growled.

“But I’m done with you.”

“Y/n sit,” he commands calmly, composing himself. “Throwing a fit isn’t going to fix things.”

“Throwing a fit?” The audacity of this man, you stand there in shock.

“Let’s talk it through,” he says to you as if you were being hysterical.

“Fuck you,” you spit.

“Talk to me Y/n,” he scolded you like you were a child. “Without this bullshit.”

“Fine! You wanna talk about it Namjoon,” you snapped, taking the seat again, throwing the file haphazardly on the desk. “Let’s talk about it.”

The glare you present him with doesn’t make him flinch, it doesn’t phase him. You hope Suho had enough sense to turn the cameras off by now, this would go nowhere.

“You manipulated me, you lied to me, you made me play the fool.”

He didn’t react, not a single muscle on his face moved and it fanned whatever flame explode inside of you like a bomb. This was his true colours underneath the mask of love and adoration he created for you.

“You don’t have to pretend anymore Namjoon I can see right through you,” you state. “And you are never touching me again.”

That made him look at you, really look at you, something shifted in his gaze, a slight smirk as if he was mocking you.

You could cry kick and scream about the injustice he put you through in the name of this fucked up love and he wouldn’t flinch. He would sit there and watch and then the fucker would have the audacity to laugh afterwards. He must’ve laughed at how stupid you were in trusting him when he lied.

“At least if you go to prison, I’ll finally be free,” you whisper like it’s a life line.

He’s still unmoved, sitting there as if you were invisible and it irked the fuck out of you. He was the one who wanted to talk, why the fuck was he silent now?

You wanted him to hurt you wanted him to feel an ounce of what you did in the light of his betrayal. He tore your heart out and you weren’t going to forgive him.

“I must’ve looked so pathetic,” you say in a self deprecating tone, looking at the ceiling as if someone could answer you. “Suho was right.”

That comment makes his blood boil hard enough to show on his face. There it was, the reaction you were waiting for and you took the bait without thinking about what you were trying to catch or what you were trapped with.

“I should’ve trusted him, he’s always had my back and my best interest at heart.”

His jaw clenches, a fist squeezing nothing but air although he probably wished it was the captain's neck.

“Kai and Suho are all I have left,” you goad him, unsure of what exactly it was that you wanted to prove. “And finally I’m back where I belong.”

“If you don’t want a bullet in each of their heads, you need to stop talking love,” he grunts through gritted teeth.

Something inside of you felt vindicated and you realise then what you wanted from him, proof he fucking cared, that you weren’t some pawn or prize in this game of crime. You wanted him to soothe the very cuts he caused, or rip your heart out hard enough that you could bleed him out of your system forever.

“Oh please Namjoon, just admit why you kept me around for so long,” you scoff. “I can only imagine how it felt to have the lead detective on your case in the palm of your hands, like a trophy, a big fuck you to the justice system.”

You laugh sounding a little maniacal.

“You had me, and I fell for all of it.”

“You’re forgetting I didn’t know your true origins at first little love,” his low voice is a warning, he looks at you like he needed to remind you who you belonged to.

“And you’re forgetting I know you,” you bite back. “Any hint of betrayal and you pull the trigger first and ask questions later.”

He stares at you, grimacing.

“And yet here I am, alive.”

“Because I love you,” he says it so casually it throws you off, like it was a fundamental part of his being, like breathing.

“Because you saw an opportunity,” you rationalise.

“Because I could never lose you,” he confesses. “You could rip out my heart, little love and I would still want you, why else would I be here?”

You frown, what did he mean? He was here because you paid an eye for an eye, you betrayed him.

“What’s done is done,” you say as if you were unconcerned. “I will testify against you.”

He leans closer across the table, words for your ears only.

“Do you think you’ll be able to handle seeing Jungkook in prison, love?” Namjoon whispers. “Knowing you put him there? It would kill you.”

The pain his words brought forth only proved them to be true. You did have a soft spot for the youngest, always had. You break eye contact first, looking down at the file and turning back and forth a page as if in contemplation but really to cool your nerves.

Were you really doing this? Sending Yoongi, Jin, Hoseok, Jimin, Tae and Kookie to jail because of an angry outburst? Now your emotions had time to settle after the bomb that exploded when you saw Suho; you weren’t so sure.

“I never thought you could betray us like this,” he says solemnly, continuing to manipulate your guilt, but he forgot about your fire. He could almost see the coals ignite in your eyes, a misstep on his part, one he realised when a snarl forms on your lips.

“You. Lied.” You state ferociously. “I asked you if you hurt him and you lied to me.”

“So you decided to have us all arrested,” he continues, “for a man you stated you didn’t care about like that.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you seethe, unable to sit with him any longer, pacing the room before you raised a finger to his face. “You played me like a fool Namjoon, and I refuse to play the part anymore.”

“I wanted him dead, little love,” he states in a low voice through gritted teeth. “Do you understand what a mercy-”

“I asked you not to hurt him!”

“Then you underestimated our wrath!” he retorted. “I couldn’t let him go in one piece, and you didn’t need to know.”

“No. You underestimated MY wrath Kim Namjoon!” You burst, slamming the desk with your hand, the sting burning, your face heating more and more with rage as it concealed your heartache. “I am not some docile doll for you to play with, and manipulate and LIE TO! You took my love for granted when it was a damn fucking privilege.”

Your chest heaves with each breath, he stayed composed while you looked like a wild animal finally let out of her cage.

“You think this obsession is love,” your voice broke at the last word, the floods of heartbreak dampening the fires. “And I did too, but it’s fucked up everything.”

His silence was eating you alive, his face giving nothing of his heart away while yours laid bare out between you.

“You know what I’m done,” you breathe, “have fun rotting in jail Namjoon.”

Tears drop out of the corner of your eyes as you walk away, his piercing gaze doing nothing to deter you. He might’ve had power over you once but that was before he betrayed you. You reach for the door handle, tugging, ready to leave him behind until his trial, but the door doesn’t budge. You still, mind blank for a second before panic overwhelms you. You try again with all your might, pulling as hard as you can over and over before releasing your grip with a harsh breath. You take a gulp, calming yourself, he planned this.

You’re not surprised when you hear the sound of the handcuffs undo or the chains hit the floor. Fucking bastard. An alarm started blaring in the building, loud and overwhelming, but it came too late. Red lights flash, the room glowing as if warning you about the oncoming danger.

“Are we done with your outburst little love,” he says coldly, like your grievances were nothing more than a tantrum.

You turn to face him slowly, more tears dropping without a sound, shaking your head at the way his words cut you down to nothing.

When he stands from the seat your heart gallops with fear and panic. Although it’s helpless you turn back to the door, trying with all your might to open it and escape him. The fire alarm blaring does nothing to ease you, you hang onto the door as you feel him approach, tears falling out of your eyes without control.

Fuck, you were stuck here with the man you sent to jail, you were left to his mercy. His presence looms over you, you can feel him a hair's width behind you, not touching you, not really, but he’s so close it’s overwhelming.

It’s when you feel his breath you freeze, your body shutting down with dread. He presses his cheek to your hair, inhaling you softly. The action makes you jolt away, turning to the side but he grabs your wrist tightly. You don’t look at him, you stare into the two way mirror, your cheeks pathetically wet. You were supposed to hold the power in this room, but you could feel it dwindle away to nothing but smoke.

You’re slammed against the door hard, a whimper escaping your lips as your eyes scrunched in pain. You miss the flash of guilt in his eyes, realising he pushed you too hard. An apology on his lips but the glare when your eyes open stops him. He’s seen anger in your eyes before, hate even, for he knew love didn’t come without it. But fear? Never of him, not even in the days when you were undercover and your life was one unveiled secret away from ending.

“Get away from me,” you seethe, meaning every word, even when you saw the hurt in his eyes.

Regret, Kim Namjoon never knew the feeling before, but he knew he never wanted you to look at him the way you were. He needed to keep his calm, one wrong push and you would tear him out of your own heart.

Your eyes fly all over the room, trying to piece together a way to gain some distance. Suho… maybe he was still behind the glass. You tug your wrist as hard as you can, taking steps away from him but his hold is relentless. The blare of the alarm stops ringing but the flashing red lights remain, staining the walls like blood pumping.

“Little lo-“ he starts to say with a sigh, he was being patient but there was only so much time left.

“Suho?” You call desperately trying to look through the glass. You know you’ve made a mistake before you even said his name but fear drives people to do stupid things without thinking.

The most notorious criminal in all of Seoul pulls you back against his chest hard. An arm wraps around your waist, the unforgiving grip on your wrist turning lethal. He rests his chin on your shoulder, staring at you through the mirror. The hairs on your skin stood on end at the frightening change in his eyes, danger rolled off of him and you had no choice but to take every wave.

“Do you think he’s there, love?” The corner of his lip lifts in a smirk that makes you think of a snake, the saccharine tone of his voice hypnotising. “Do you think he’s watching us?”

The palm on your hip moves down to your thigh, he squeezes the flesh. You could feel your heart jumping in your throat.

“Should we give him something to watch?” He murmurs seductively, turning his head to bring his lips so close to your neck. The bruising clutch on your wrist is gone only to find its way to your hair, yanking it back to give himself better access.

Your eyes in the mirror are begging but the inner turmoil from his touch is making you question what exactly you’re asking for. Reason tells you it’s for Suho to save you, to grant you escape, but the way you feel a familiar heat swim to your core has you doubting yourself.

“If he was in there,” he whispers, his lips now on your ear, “don’t you think he’d come in here and try to take you from me, love?”

He chuckles to himself, a joke only he can understand.

“Fuck I’d love to see him try.”

His groan has you aching, your body relapsing to what it knows, anticipating the pleasure and pain only they could provide.

“I’m not mad at you for having us arrested, heaven,” he whispers in your ear, gaze softening for a second in the mirror lulling you into a sense of security you couldn’t tell if it was a trap. “In fact I’m a little in awe, a little proud.”

The smirk he gives you seems genuine.

“We deserved it I know,” reassurance fills his voice, he wants you to hear his sincerity. “What I’m mad about, little love…”

The softness is gone, eyes turn piercing, the proverbial snake about to strike.

“Is the fact you let another man touch what’s mine.”

The guttural rumble of his possessive claim sent waves of need down to your cunt, you could feel it pulsing.

“I’m mine,” you return meekly, trying to find your resolve, but it sounded like a whine.

“Make no mistake Y/n, you’re always going to be mine.”

You didn’t have it in you to argue, not when he sent your eyes rolling back and a shiver down your spine. Fuck he hadn’t even touched you yet, maybe it was true, maybe a part of you would always belong to them, but that didn’t mean all if you did.

“Look at me,” he commands, his breath hitting your neck.

Your blown out eyes meet him in the mirror, that predatory but protective gaze piercing through you. He hums in approval the deep vibration fucking with your senses, making you hazy.

You both hold eye contact even when you can see the fingers on your thigh stroke soothing circles up your skin. Your lips part with a harsh breath when they rub your mound through the fabric of your panties, the touch light and testing and not nearly enough.

“You’re fucking soaking wet baby,” he calls you out with a grin.

You grab his wrist when his fingers cup your heat, his thumb soothing circles on your clit. You press against him, the warmth of his chest enveloping your back. You both fit so well together, you were forgetting why exactly you were so angry at him, but simmers of it still remained even through his touch.

“You know,” he says, opening your leg with his knee to give him more access, “a lot of couples fuck through their problems, should we try?”

He hides his grin, burying his head in you but you can feel it against your skin, the arrogant asshole.

“You can go and fuck yourself,” you sassed back, lying to yourself that you could be fine if he stopped now, that it wouldn’t leave you a needy mess.

“But I’d rather fuck you,” he chuckles, breathing you in, savouring the moment while his fingers slide the fabric aside.

You choke back a moan at the contact of his skin right where you wanted him, the way he spread your wetness until every inch of you was covered in it.

“You can pretend to regret our relationship all you want, but this,” he emphasises his point by slapping your cunt hard, making you gasp, “still wants me.”

“It wants to get fucked,” you spitefully remark through gritted teeth, “doesn’t have to be you.”

That makes him pause, and you have to bite back the words of displeasure.

“You’ll pay for that next time love,” he murmurs dangerously.

“There won’t be a next time,” you try to ridicule him through a laugh but his fingers circle your entrance.

“You’re lying,” he hums, “next time, I think we should tie you down, make you watch other women touch us in ways only you’re allowed to.”

You bury the fury that ruptures at the image, clenching your jaw to keep from swearing at him and proving the point he was trying to make.

“Maybe then you’d have a semblance of understanding of what you did- the torture you put us through.”

“I wouldn’t care,” you breathe, squirming against his fingers, he needed to shut up and move.

“Liar,” he chuckles knowingly, seeing right through you. Before you, there were many females in his organisation, until his little love demanded he get rid of them all. The memory stretches his grin wider.

“Why the fuck was it me?” You whisper, your eyes starting to water at the vulnerability of your tone, remembering the same moment he was. “When I went undercover there were so many beautiful women-“

“They’re not you, little love, don’t for a second compare yourself to them,” he kisses your temple softly in reassurance. His face is in your hair, his hand on your throat as you preen to his touch. “You were sweet and addicting with a fire you were trying so desperately to contain.”

He thrusts two fingers in gently, watching your face contort in want in the mirror, smiling at the way your eyes rolled back. You whimper when he squeezes his grip on your neck.

“To think that passion we saw in your eyes was hatred at first,” he smiles as if amused, watching every little reaction you gave him, every proof of love.

“I did,” you confess, pressing your ass against his hard length and making him groan, “I hated you.”

“You were sent to destroy us, love, but instead you reached into our souls and thought there was something worth saving,” he chuckled, nuzzling into you softly as if he wasn’t knuckle deep inside of you, feeling every part he knew so well. “And save us you did, it was so dark before you our little light, how could we ever let you leave?”

“You’re fucking with my head,” you whimper, head falling back to his chest, it rumbles when he laughs.

“Hmmm? I’m definitely fucking your brains out today Y/n,” he promises with a chuckle, kissing your temple again, but emphasising his point when he scissors his fingers reading you for his cock. “If that’s what you mean.”

This was your fault, you knew what you were getting into when you fell for them. You especially knew Namjoon was the worst of them all. You let his soft side brush away his true nature, and while you never forgot his ruthless persona, you put it to the back of your mind. You foolishly thought you had tamed his cunning cold cruel-

“Oh fuck,” whatever train of thought you had died, the palm of his hand rubbing your clit, stimulating your already aching cunt to the edge. Your parted lips open wider to release a silent scream, his fingers stroking so deep.

You were so close, you could taste it, unable to control the delirious sounds escaping you. So when he stops and slips his fingers away from you, you have to stop yourself screaming in protest.

“Up against the mirror Y/n,” he commands gruffly, but you don’t move, you were so fucking close. Fuck him, fucking asshole, you were so fucking close.

He picks you up with ease, pushing you against the wall so your breath fogs the surface. You hear the zip pull down, your forehead falls forward, your core pulsing in anticipation. He grabs your leg, opening you for him, the head of his cock sliding across your folds until you're whining.

“Stop squirming love,” he warns, but you don’t listen, of course you don’t, so he makes you listen.

The sound you release when he slaps your clit with his hard dick over and over has him questioning his restraint, fuck he wants to just pound into you but you needed to be taught a fucking lesson.

“Joonie sensitive,” you whine, but he’s relentless, making you cry out over and over. Fuck you could actually maybe cum like this.

His self control wavers, his jaw clenched with such a force he thinks it’ll shatter. He couldn’t take it anymore, the swell of his head finds your entrance. Inch by inch, he relishes the feeling of your walls hugging him so fucking tight, the pulse of them pulling him in. He leans over you, trying to regain composure but you feel so good he doesn’t want to move, he wants to stay like this forever, inside of you where he belongs.

You try to push back into him, but he grabs your waist with one hand to keep you still, grinding his hips against you and he knows it’s not enough.

“Look at you arching your back little love,” he smirks, “Your body knows where you belong, it’s a shame you tried to take it away from me.”

Your hands ball into fists on the mirror, you can’t even look at yourself right now, you can’t stop writhing on the surface, trying so hard to get him to move. You squeeze him hard, making his head fall against you with a grunt.

“Behave little love,” he warns, “or I’ll show your colleagues just how well you can take me.”

“Make me,” you dare him even though it comes out as a mumble.

You were dizzy and disorientated and all you wanted was for him to fucking move. He pushes you against the wall hard, every inch of him covering you so you couldn’t budge. You whine, the cold of the hard surface making you seek his warm body, you slot against him like a damn puzzle piece. He was hell bent on torturing you today, as if you hadn’t suffered enough.

“Joonie move,” you almost sound like a brat, trying to order him around.

“I’ll move when I’m ready,” he growls animalistically, barely holding himself back, but he needed to savour this.

You do everything you can to break his control, writhing against him like a bitch in heat. He swallows hard when you clench again. He spanks your ass hard in return, the air gets thicker, you find it harder to breathe. You keep still, the sting of your ass satisfying your craving for a moment, but not for long.

He picks up your skirt, watching himself inside you, watching the beautiful mess you were making. So wet, so perfect, how did you ever think for a second he would ever let this go? The sight is too much, he releases a restrained groan, done with holding himself back.

His hand grips your cheeks, turning your mouth to his, forcing his tongue down your throat as he finally pulls out only to push back in impossibly deeper. You took every punishing thrust, his presence surrounding you everywhere, even in front of you where his reflection painted the surface. He smothered you with his existence, the heat of him scolding, but you liked it, you craved it.

“Do you think your ‘friend’ understands who you fucking belong to now detective L/n?” He chuckles deeply watching your fucked out face in the mirror.

He uses his grip under your knee to turn you towards the camera in the corner of the room.

“Think they can all see little love?” He pants. “How well you fucking take it? How good you are for me?”

You shake your head in protest but it feels too good. Your head falls back on him without the mirror to lean against. His fingers find your clit, his sole purpose to make you lose yourself to him.

“Fuck look at you shaking baby,” he groans, feeling you pulse around him, drawing closer to the edge. “Your poor pussy just needs to come huh?”

You can hear the smirk in his tone, fucking self satisfied prick.

“Not as badly as you need it,” you taunt back, feeling your defiance flare despite how your body was begging you to behave..

“Fuck you might be right,” he groans, going harder, faster. “I’m always going to need it.”

His confession takes you over, the words pushing you so hard you come apart violently, thrashing against him as you unravel, but he holds you tight. He doesn’t let you fall. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think, all you could feel was him and the burst of pleasure that carried on wave after wave, and you never wanted it to stop.

“This is mine,” he grunts as he comes undone inside of you, fucking his cum deeper until it got through to your soul.

He was a part of you, and you could try to deny it now with his mistakes on the table, but he was so embedded in the fabric of you he couldn’t see where he began and where you ended. His entire existence was for you, it was only fair your cunt, body and soul belonged to him. Maybe the others too, as an afterthought, but you were his first.

He feels the mess slide out of you as he leaves your warmth, turning you softly so you could lean against him as you catch your breath. He holds you tight, arn arm around your middle like the steel of a bar. He has every intention of letting you recover but the way you look up at him with those glossy eyes confirms the fact he will never be satiated, he will always want more of you even if there was nothing left to give.

“Our little love,” he breathes in your face, stealing a hard kiss, “our little downfall.”

His mouth held you prisoner again and again, humming pleasantly as you let him devour you in so many ways. His kiss was bruising, hungry, overindulging.

Your eyes search his as he parts reluctantly, your mind still hazy, the bliss of sex still circulating your body.

“Why did you lie to me?” You whisper breathlessly against his lips as you come down, and he can hear the vulnerability in your tone, it makes a guilt spread across his chest that feels almost alien. The way you could make him ache like no one else, he should cast you aside for introducing a weakness in him but he wouldn’t even dream of it.

“I didn’t want to lose you,” he confesses sincerely. “I didn’t want you to hate me.”

“I asked you not to hurt him,” your eyes tear up again, and he curses himself and the existence of Kim Suho.

“I know.”

“But you did it anyway,” you continue, “and then you had the gall to lie to my face.”

You wipe away the tears that fall harshly, your mind clearing. You push him away and fix yourself up, knowing from the glances in the mirror you were a mess.

“You always own up to your actions, right or wrong, you never hide them,” you laugh and you think you must sound psychotic. “The Kim Namjoon… I remember the days you would drop dead bodies in front of me without remorse, without ever feeling the need to explain yourself.”

“I was testing you then,” he grunts, remembering those days well. “I needed to know you had the stomach to be with us.”

“I hated you so much,” you confess, swallowing down a sob. “And for the first time since I fell in love with you Joonie, I can feel that hate grow again.”

His jaw clenches, his fist too. He could feel a threat on the tip of his lips, one where the Captain's head would end up on a plate in front of you for dinner but he holds himself back.

“You don’t mean that,” he says between gritted teeth.

“I had you fucking arrested Namjoon,” you argue back fiercely. “Don't tell me what I mean or don’t mean.”

“You also fucked me after the fact,” he states and the harsh words slap you hard. You did. You let him defile you here only moments ago.

“Old habits die hard.”

“Not with me love,” he dismisses the thought. “Not as long as I’m alive.”

“We’ll see,” you challenge, feeling that earlier conviction rise.

“Understand something Y/n,” he says seriously, his face solemn and hard in a way you had witnessed rarely. This was Kim Namjoon with something to lose. “You can run, you can fight, you can hate me if you need to, but there isn’t a life worth living for us without you in it.”

He takes his seat back in the interrogation chair, putting his handcuffs back on with ease, all while keeping his eye contact with you.

“You want me here, you want to punish me,” he continues, “fine, this where I’ll stay until you’re appeased, until you forgive me.”

“I won’t,” you deny, shaking your head.

“You will.”

#bts au #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts angst #bts smut #bts mafia imagine #bts mafia!au #bts mafia series #bts yandere!au #yandere bts #bts yandere #bts ot7 au #bts ot7 x reader #namjoon mafia au #namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon angst

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alwaysthefool · 15 days ago

Text

But She’s Not You (x Zayne)

Technically part 2 to Opposite (linked) but you can read it stand alone too.

Warnings: insecurity

Tags: Angst to comfort, f! Reader (pro trans blog), MC Reader

Synopsis: After you saw him with someone else and misunderstood, Zayne lets you know you’re the only one for him.

Sulking at the waiting room couldn’t get past Yvonne’s sharp eyes. It had been a week since you’d come to the hospital. You didn’t pick up Zayne’s calls after you ‘ended things’, and him, being the gentleman that he was, did not push it. He was probably busy again, and now he had someone else to keep him company. Unfortunately for you, you had a weird and constant chest pain that was getting hard to ignore. You begged the receptionist to get you any other cardiologist than Zayne, which meant you had to wait, because Zayne would never make you wait when it came to your heart.

“What’s wrong?” She took a seat beside you at the metal chairs. “Trouble with the doc?”

You sighed, your head down, grateful she was here. “I saw him with another girl. Laughing, with another girl.”

“Dr. Zayne laughs?” Grayson slumped down on the other side of you. That just made you feel worse. Right, he was usually stoic, but who wouldn’t laugh when someone like her was making a joke?

Yvonne pinched Grayson, as if begging him to read the room.

“Well, he’s doing terribly.” Grayson spoke immediately. “I don’t think he took a break this entire week. Jo almost has to force him to take a break at times.”

Tears filled your eyes immediately and you hated that it wasn’t because you were concerned about him, but rather that he had another girl who’d remind him to take breaks, to eat sweets, to smile every now and then. It was selfish to think like that, but you couldn’t help but wish it was you.

“Dr. Grayson.” Yvonne warned, gesturing to you. “Don’t you have a surgery to get to?”

Grayson took the cue noticing your silent crying, pretending he was paged for something important, running away.

“There’s really nothing going on between them.” Yvonne tried to help you, patting your back. “There’s been new discoveries on Protocore syndrome treatments, and Jo is from the institute that made the discovery.”

You tried to stop the tears. Right, it couldn’t be helped. “It’s just… hard to be with someone like him.” You wiped your face with your sleeve. “Someone who’s always going to be wanted by people who are more than me. I’ll make one mistake, and he can find another girl who’s better than me in every way, and will never make any. I don’t want to spend my life thinking I have to compete.”

“Ms. [Name].” Zayne’s voice spoke from above you, sending your already struggling heart into a frenzy. “Please see me in my room immediately.”

You looked up to see him walk away, into his office, the nurse beside him, apologising to you. “I tried to hide it from him, but he was furious when I didn’t tell him you were here.” She whispered. You told her it was okay, silently following him. He held the door to his office open for you, closing it behind him once the two of you were in.

“You might be mad at me, but did you really have to try and change doctors?”

“I didn’t want to waste your time.”

“Nonsense.” He looked back at you with furious eyes. His hair was a mess, he’d definitely not had enough sleep, and you could see a bit of stubble on his jaw. No matter what happened, Zayne would put effort into his appearance, but you’d never seen him like that before.

You wanted to say something, ask him if he was alright, but you could only take your place on the couch in his office.

“How long have you been experiencing this?” He asked sternly, still standing, looking at your chart.

“A week.”

He shot you an exasperated look. “A week? And you’re only coming here now?”

I didn’t want to face you. You wanted to confess, but you settled with “I thought it’d go away by itself.”

Zayne tried to calm himself down, placing the chart on the table, sitting down on his desk with his head in his hands. You didn’t have control over yourself as your legs walked over to him. Even if he liked someone else, you couldn’t let him go. You couldn’t help but reach for him, your hand lightly resting on his back.

“Zayne?”

“Can I hold you?” His voice was broken, pleading. You let out a soft ‘yes’, and he immediately pulled you into his lip, hugging you tightly.

Was Zayne… crying?

“You’re here.” He whispered, resting his face against your neck, nuzzling into it, tightening his protective hold. Even if you couldn’t hear it well, you felt his wet eyes. He still smelled of coffee and mint. “Please don’t leave me again. I thought I messed up for good. Please give me another chance.”

“I overreacted.” You put your hands in his hair, and he kissed your neck. “I’m so sorry.”

“No.” He pulled away, holding you firmly on his lap with his large hands on your waist. “I didn’t understand how it must’ve looked to you. I’m away all the time, I don’t make time for you, but if it’s not you…” He looked intensely into your eyes. “It’s no one.”

Your heart felt less heavy, the pain easing into relief. You took a deep breath, but it still hurt your chest a little.

“And I’m sorry for what I said.“ He continued.

You teared up again. “Yeah, you should be. You have no idea how I felt.”

“I’ll win you back, if you’re not yet convinced.” He kissed you on your cheek, taking a handkerchief out of his bag to wipe away your tears. “Tell me, what do you want? I’ll give you anything.”

“What I came for. A diagnosis for my heart.” You smiled.

Zayne turned red, clearing his throat, helping you off his lap but not letting go of your hand. “Of course. I need you to come with me to get some tests done.” He used his free hand to look at his notes on the chart.

“And after that, you’re coming home with me so I can make it all up to you.”

—x—

#zayne x reader #zayne x mc #love and deepspace #lads zayne #lnds #l&ds #zayne comfort #zayne angst #love and deepspace x reader #zayne fanfic #zayne headcanons #hcs #fanfiction #zayne x you

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steveseddie · 2 months ago

Text

home run

steddie | rating: m | wc: 3,6k | no warnings | tags: post-season 4, love confessions, first kiss, first time, dry humping, coming in pants, car sex, or technically van sex

for week two of @softsteddieseptember “confessing your feelings” and “road trips” and week two of @steddiesmuttyseptember “backseat” and “clothes on”

read on ao3 here

Steve’s fingers tighten around the grab handle as Eddie’s van skids dangerously on the wet road. “I really think we should stop, Eddie,” Steve says, finally voicing the thought he’s been having since they got caught in the rain.

Eddie leans forward on the driver’s seat, struggling to see the road through the sheets of water slashing at the windshield, the wipers failing to keep up.

At first, Steve thinks he didn’t hear him over the heavy pitter-pattering but then he waves dismissively at him. Steve flinches when he lets go of the wheel and the van swerves.

“No way, Stevie, if we stop we won’t make it in time for the game!”

“If we don’t stop you’ll drive us off the road,” Steve says in a bitchy tone. “And then we won’t make it to the game either because we’ll be dead.”

Eddie groans, using a rag to wipe the fogged-up windshield. “But-”

“Pull over, Munson.”

With a defeated sigh, Eddie hits the warning lights and stirs the van to the side of the road. “As Your Majesty commands,” he says, matching Steve’s bitchy tone.

“Hey, don’t get pissy on me,” Steve protests when Eddie kills the engine. “It’s not my fault the sky opened up on us!”

Eddie slumps into the driver’s seat, air puffing out and making his bangs flutter. “No, it’s mine.”

Steve snorts. “What? You suddenly control the weather or something?”

“No, but I made us stop for lunch and waste time and got us trapped in this fucking downpour!” Eddie crosses his arm over his chest, pouting. If Steve didn’t think Eddie would throw him out of the van for it he would lean over and pinch his cheek and call him adorable.

“We had to stop for gas anyway,” he says instead, shrugging.

“Yeah, but we could’ve had lunch in the van!” Eddie throws his arms up, almost hitting Steve in the face. “It’s called a road trip for fuck’s sake. And now we won’t make it to the game, so it was all for nothing!”

Not for nothing, Steve thinks. They spent the last couple of hours bickering over who got to pick the music and then singing along horribly to whatever they picked to annoy the other one further, which is one of Steve’s favorite parts about driving around with Eddie. That and watching him while he drives, less worried about being caught staring at him. Not to mention the milkshakes they had at the diner where they stopped for lunch were the best Steve’s ever had. Even if they miss the game, which was the whole reason for this trip, Steve would be okay with it.

But Eddie sounds genuinely upset about it so Steve turns to face him and puts his hand over his knee. “I bet we can catch the rerun at our hotel in Chicago.”

Eddie huffs. “That’s lame, Steve.” His eyebrows knit into a frown. “You were supposed to be there and watch it live, maybe get hit by a ball or something.”

“Eds, why are you so butthurt over this?” Steve can’t help but ask. Missing a basketball game—even a big one that they drove all the way to Chicago for—shouldn’t be getting under Eddie’s skin like this. “You don’t even care about basketball.”

“No, but you do,” Eddie says with a sigh. “And you- you’re always doing things for the kids and for Buckley and for me so I just wanted to do something for you. Wanted us to do something you want for once. That’s why I got the tickets.”

It’s Steve’s turn to frown. “Wait, I thought Wayne got the tickets from someone at work.”

Eddie hangs a hand from his neck, watching the rain fall through the window, not meeting Steve’s eyes. “Er, no, I asked him to get them for me like a month ago when he drove to Chicago for a job,” he explains shyly. “’Cause, you know, you need a credit card to get them on the phone and well, obviously I don’t have one and neither does Wayne, so-”

“Why?”

Eddie blinks at him. “Because we’re poor?”

“No, Eds, why- why did you lie about the tickets?”

“’Cause I knew you’d get all—” he gestures wildly at Steve, “—you about it and offer to pay for them or something and that wasn’t the point. The point was me doing this for you, y’know? Driving four hours just to sit and watch a game that I don’t give a fuck about because you give a fuck about it and I give a fuck about you. Many fucks, in fact.” He lets out a shaky laugh in the middle of his rambling. “Fuck, Steve, I actually love-”

And then Eddie snaps his jaw shut so hard that Steve is surprised he doesn’t bite his tongue off.

One minute he’s looking at Steve like a startled deer, big cow eyes wide and spooked, and the next he’s flinging the door open and stepping out into the rain before Steve can do anything to stop him

He blinks at the empty driver’s seat. “What the fuck?”

He watches through the windshield as Eddie paces anxiously in front of the van, muttering to himself as the rain hammers down on him, soaking his hair and clothes. With a sigh, Steve grabs his jacket from the backseat, zipping it up before following Eddie out of the car.

“Eddie! What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m drowning myself,” Eddie says, running a frantic hand through his rapidly soaking hair and talking just loud enough for Steve to hear him over the rain.

“Why?”

Eddie whirls around to face Steve. His bangs stick to his forehead because of the rain and Steve wants to reach over and brush them back. “C’mon, Stevie,” he says, shaking his head. His expression is open, vulnerable, terrified. “You’re smart enough to know that was a love confession. And a shitty one at that.”

Steve blinks, feeling droplets of water fall from his eyelashes. His heart hammers in his chest. “You- you love me?”

A laugh escapes Eddie’s lips—a mix of amusement and incredulity. “Sweetheart,” he says, his lips curling into a sad smile. “I’m so in love with you that I was down to drive us through a torrential storm to watch dudes throw balls into laundry baskets with you.”

Despite the rain soaking Steve’s clothes by the second, he feels warmth spreading through him at Eddie’s words. “Eddie-”

“I don’t expect anything, Stevie,” Eddie interjects. “You don’t even have to let me down gently or apologize-”

Steve tries again, taking a step forward, but Eddie instinctively takes a step back. “Eddie, I’m not-”

“I know-”

Steve growls, exasperated. “No, you don’t know,” he snaps when Eddie keeps interrupting him. “God, you’re infuriating sometimes.”

Eddie laughs but it’s a little shaky. “Big word, Stevie. Twenty points for you.”

Steve shakes his head. He closes the distance between them in two long strides, trapping Eddie against the hood of the van. Eddie looks spooked at the proximity so before he can run away Steve cups his cheeks, keeping him in place.

Eddie’s eyes go wide. “Uh, Steve?”

“I need you to shut up, Eddie,” Steve says, brushing his thumbs over Eddie’s cheekbones. His lips part, undoubtedly to make another remark but Steve beats him to it. “‘Cause I’m trying to tell you I’m also in love with you.”

Eddie’s mouth snaps shut immediately.

“There you go,” Steve says with a chuckle. His stomach flip-flops in anticipation. “Eddie, you know I love basketball-”

The words make Eddie frown. “This isn’t the love confession I imagined-”

“Christ. Shhh!” Steve presses his finger against Eddie’s lips with an amused chuckle. Eddie yelps but otherwise stays quiet.

“I said I love basketball,” Steve starts again, “but I’m happy to watch it just on TV, y’know? The reason why I agreed to a four-hour drive for a game was you. I wanted to go on a trip with you. We hang out all the time and it’s never enough. I’m fucking- obsessed with you! Christ, I love you!”

His finger leaves Eddie’s lips, telling him it’s okay to talk, but Eddie just blinks at him, and for a moment, all they can hear is the rain falling around them.

Finally, Eddie clears his throat. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you do a love confession,” he says in an awed voice.

“Do I get another twenty points?” Steve asks with a chuckle.

Eddie giggles. Steve has to fight the urge to pinch his cheek again. Adorable. “You get all the fucking points, sweetheart, that was romantic as fuck.”

His thumb brushes over Eddie’s cheeks, warm and pink despite the cold. “Do you know what’s more romantic than a love confession in the rain?” He asks. Eddie shakes his head, water dripping from his bangs. “A kiss in the rain.”

Eddie’s eyes widening in realization are the last thing Steve sees before he surges forward, all but mashing their lips together.

There’s barely half a second of Eddie’s frozen shock before there are hands in Steve’s hair and lips moving slowly and tenderly against his own. Steve moves closer, pinning Eddie against the hood of the van, one of his hands leaving Eddie’s face to settle on his waist. He wants to move even closer but the angle is a little uncomfortable, and he can’t lay Eddie down against the hood the way he could do if they’d drove the Beamer. Also, the rain isn’t stopping and Steve is starting to get cold after standing under it for so long.

So he breaks them apart despite wanting to kiss Eddie longer but keeps their foreheads pressed together. “Can we get back in the van now? Before we drown for real or catch pneumonia or something?”

“Whatever you want, baby,” Eddie says in a deep voice. The way Steve shivers this time has nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with how Eddie sounds and what he just called Steve.

Hooking his fingers through Eddie’s belt loops, Steve drags him towards the passenger’s side, pausing to kiss him every few steps. There, instead of reaching for his door, he reaches for the sliding door handle.

Eddie frowns. “Wait, I thought-”

“It’s still raining.” Steve kisses Eddie’s cheek. “We’re not going anywhere for a while.” He kisses the other one. “So I thought we could keep this going in the backseat.” He places one final kiss on his lips.

Eddie’s eyes widen and he nods fiercely, grabbing a fistful of Steve’s jacket and pulling him inside. They land on the backseat, Steve on top of Eddie, and while that’s exactly what Steve was after when he led them to the van, he still needs to get the door. Eddie doesn’t seem to care about that—he hooks his arms around Steve’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

Steve lets it happen for a moment, already addicted to kissing Eddie but he must put a stop to it when he feels water starting to get into the van. He pushes himself up, his hands on either side of Eddie’s head, and effectively separates their lips. “Gotta get the door, Eds,” Steve says when Eddie whines.

“Hurry up,” he says impatiently. With a nod, Steve goes about sliding the door closed and then he’s back to hovering over Eddie, leaning down to bring their mouths together again. This time he licks the seam of Eddie’s lips, and when he parts them immediately, Steve slides his tongue inside, licking into Eddie’s mouth.

Eddie makes a small needy noise in the back of his throat and Steve takes it as approval, kissing him harder, letting one hand snake under Eddie’s wet shirt, feeling him up, while he holds himself up with the other one. Eddie’s hands make their way to Steve’s hair, fingers tangling in the wet strands, tugging lightly on them, making Steve momentarily break the kiss so he can let out a moan when the tug goes straight to his dick.

Eddie looks up at him with dark eyes. He gives his hair another tentative tug to see if he can drag that sound from Steve a second time.

He can.

“Fuck, Steve,” he whispers like he can’t believe this is happening. “You’re a dream.”

Steve desperately wants to hear Eddie too, so he starts kissing his jaw, his neck, his collarbone. Eddie tips his head back with a heartfelt groan, exposing the column of his throat. Steve takes that as an invitation, sucking at the pale skin until a mark starts to bloom. He bites lightly at the skin and soothes the sting with his tongue, listening to Eddie’s delicious string of gasps and whines.

His legs come up to wrap around Steve’s waist, pulling him closer until Steve is lying on top of Eddie.

Eddie who is hot and close and already hard against him.

Steve is hard too, he can feel his dick pushing against his wet jeans. He knows they should probably get out of their wet clothes soon but right now he doesn’t have enough patience to do that. He doesn’t want to waste any time that could be spent kissing Eddie, not until they’re satisfied. If the way Eddie is wrapped around Steve like a needy koala means anything, he doubts Eddie wants that either.

So instead Steve slowly moves his hips to meet Eddie’s.

A whimper slips past Eddie’s lips at the friction. “Oh, fuck, Steve,” he pants against Steve’s lips. The way Eddie moans his name goes straight to Steve’s dick, making it twitch as it begs for more friction. He rolls his hips again. “Jesus, fuck- I’m- sweetheart-”

“You okay?” Steve asks when Eddie can’t seem to finish a sentence. When he rolls his hips again, Eddie makes a noise like he’s dying, failing to utter any words. “Want me to stop?”

“No!” Eddie protests, shaking his head, hair wild and fanned out on the seat. “Don’t stop. Just uh- fair warning, I’m about to embarrass myself and come in my pants like- fuck, like this.”

Steve groans. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding enthusiastically, Steve starts rolling his hips at a steady pace. “Yeah, I want it. Wanna make you come, Eddie. Wanna see you.”

“Holy shit, Steve,” Eddie swears. On the next thrust, he pushes his hips up just as Steve grinds down and they both moan loudly.

They fall into a rhythm after that, approaching the edge quickly. Hoping to make Eddie come first, Steve wedges his hand between them, cupping Eddie’s hard dick with his palm. It feels big and Steve’s brain feels like it’s melting out of his ears when he so much as thinks about touching Eddie without his jeans and his underwear in the way, about blowing him, about Eddie fucking him. His own body jerks almost involuntarily against Eddie’s thigh.

He does his best to rub the length of Eddie’s dick as best as he can through his clothes, pressed so close together. Eddie lets out a string of moans and whines that shoot sparks of pleasure down Steve’s spine.

“God, Eddie, you’re so- you sound so good. So fucking hot.”

Eddie shudders against him, his breaths coming quick and short. “Don’t stop,” he pleads even if Steve has no plans to stop what he’s doing, not when he’s so close to giving Eddie what he wants. Instead of stopping, he squeezes the head and strokes him faster. “Fuck, Steve, I’m close.”

“Yeah, come on, Eddie,” Steve urges him on. Eddie sobs against Steve’s neck, hips jerking along with the movement of Steve’s hand. “Come for me, baby. Let me hear you.”

Eddie whines, high-pitched and needy. “Steve, I’m gonna-” He bites out just as Steve squeezes the head of his dick, his words trailing off into a moan as he tips over the edge. Steve watches Eddie come undone for him—head thrown back as his eyes roll into his head. It’s the hottest thing Steve has ever seen. It’s too much. He needs to come.

He grinds against Eddie’s hip, hard and desperate, chasing his own release as Eddie catches his breath. He’s so close already.

Eddie must realize it too. “Your turn, sweetheart,” he tells him, his hand finding its way back to his hair, brushing it away from his face. “Fuck baby, you look gorgeous like this. Flushed and needy. Humping my leg, so desperate,” he whispers, kissing Steve’s cheekbones, his jaw, his neck. Little whines escape Steve’s lips as Eddie starts to run his mouth.

“Can’t wait to do this somewhere else, Stevie, someplace where I can drop to my knees and blow you.”

Steve’s breath hitches, his dick twitching when he pictures Eddie on his knees for him—lips wrapped around his dick, eyes molten as he looks up at him. “Oh my God.”

“Yeah? You want that, sweetheart?”

Steve nods eagerly. “Y-yeah. Wanna blow you too.”

One of Eddie’s hands cups his cheek. He runs his thumb over Steve’s bottom lip. “‘Course, baby. You can do anything you want to me.”

Steve’s hips stutter, his brain foggy as he gets closer. “Y-you too. Anything. Fuck, Eddie, please.”

“I got you, baby, c’mon,” Eddie whispers. His hand travels down until he’s cupping Steve’s ass, urging him to grind harder against his hip. Steve feels like he’s on fire. He’s so close, he can feel it, he just needs something more-

That’s when Eddie tugs harshly on his hair at the same time Steve grinds down, and just like that, he’s done for—he moans Eddie’s name as he spills into his boxers. Eddie kisses him through it, whispering praises against Steve’s lips that make shivers run down his spine.

Steve can’t kiss him back at first, the aftershocks of his orgasm leaving him feeling a little stupid, yet Eddie doesn’t seem to mind—happily taking control of the kiss, licking into Steve’s pliant mouth.

Once his brain comes back online, Steve kisses him back lazily until his neck starts to hurt and the arm holding him up cramps and he has to lower himself on top of Eddie, his head resting on his chest.

They’re quiet for a moment, the only sound in the van is their labored breathing, as well as the rain falling outside, though not as hard as before.

Eddie runs his fingers through Steve’s hair, which is slowly starting to dry. “We might’ve missed the game—” Eddie starts, and for a moment Steve is confused, having completely forgotten about it, “—but that was definitely a home run.”

Steve snorts. He gives a weak slap to Eddie’s shoulder. “That’s baseball, you dork.”

“Eh, whatever. I won, ‘s what I’m saying.”

“You lost your money though,” Steve says, absently playing with Eddie’s curls.

“Worth it!” He says, and Steve can hear his grin in his voice. “Hey, it’s not raining as hard anymore. We can try and make it for the last few innings.”

“Again, Eds, that’s baseball,” Steve giggles. Eddie shrugs, jostling him slightly. “And I told you I’m fine watching it in our hotel. I prefer it, actually. Can’t do this—” He props himself up on his elbow and kisses Eddie, “—at the game.”

“Good point.”

Steve smirks. “Can’t fuck me at the game either.” Eddie splutters, his eyes nearly bulging out of his face. Steve laughs. “You okay?”

“Yup! I just- I think my brain broke just by thinking about fucking you.”

“But you want to?”

A hysterical laugh falls from Eddie’s lips. “Do I- Steve, sweetheart, baby, that’s the understatement of the year. Of the century even!”

Steve smiles, pleased. “Then it’s settled, we skip the game and head straight to the hotel.” He pauses, thinking something over. “Maybe dinner first. It can be our first date.”

“You don’t need to wine and dine me, baby,” Eddie says, “you already got into my pants.”

Steve glances down at their still wet clothes. “Technically, I didn’t.”

Eddie snorts. “Guess you’re right. Okay! You can take me out to dinner, big boy. Though we should probably change first.”

Steve shifts, grimacing when he feels the mess in his boxers. The fact that his clothes are soaked only makes him feel more gross. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

They dig through their duffel bags for dry clothes and use the back of the van to change. Steve lets himself look at Eddie in a way he never allowed himself when he stayed over or when they hung out at the pool and finds Eddie staring right back, both of them smiling—giddy and slightly disbelieving.

By the time they change, the rain has stopped completely so Steve steps out so he can move to the passenger seat. Eddie simply climbs to the front and flops gracelessly onto the driver’s seat. Steve watches him maneuver his long limbs with a fond smile, reaching over to smooth his hair down.

Eddie smiles back at him, dimples digging into his cheek. Steve can’t help but lean over the space between them and kiss each of them before finally kissing Eddie’s lips.

“Are you sure you’re not even a little sad we missed it?” Eddie asks when Steve pulls back.

He shakes his head, leaning back against his seat. “No, Eds.” He grabs Eddie’s hand, interlacing their fingers together in the space between the seats. “As far as I’m concerned, I already won tonight.”

“Steve Harrington, you sap,” Eddie teases yet he squeezes Steve’s hand, placing them on top of his leg, refusing to let go, going as far as using his other hand to switch gears as he starts the van. “Let’s make sure you score a few more times tonight.”

“Oh yeah, baby, talk sporty to me,” Steve says in a deadpan tone that makes Eddie cackle loudly.

But despite the two of them joking about it, they score again that night.

And a few more times after that.

#steddie #steddie fic #soft steddie september #steddie smutty september #stranger things fic #hello i am once again late but i was so busy during the week i couldn't finish this until tonight whoops #also it's been a while since i wrote any kind of smut so i hope this is okay #steve harrington #eddie munson #monse writes

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starry-fame · 2 months ago

Text

18+ Overboard [Caleb x Gender Neutral!reader/MC]

Summary:

“You planning on going back to bed soon? Or what?”

You chew on your lip, trying to gauge the meaning in his words. You pull up nothing, so you decide to just answer honestly. “…Not really.”

“Alright then, keep me company.” Caleb swings around to face the foyer, casting a long glance over his shoulder. “I’ve always been more of a night owl anyway.”

The liar. Caleb’s always been able to get up at the crack of dawn since he was a teen. It’s such an obvious fib, but he says it anyway, shamelessly directing you to his room.

Like a moth to a flame, you follow.

Tags: Smut, Pining, Confessions, Porn with feelings, Dom/Sub Undertones, Overstimulation, Body Worship, Penetration, Rough Sex, Begging Ambiguous Genitalia!reader/MC, Gender neutral!reader/MC

Word Count: 11,734

Author's Notes: I posted this a while ago on ao3 and wanted to try tumblr as well! I can also post silly MC stuff and character edits haha. Anyway, I hope Caleb lovers enjoy! Also, certain parts technically aren't canon as of A World Underneath release, but that's okay :')

Ao3 Check out Linkon Lounge, an 18+ Lads Themed Otome Discord Server! We stream otome/anime/movies, have lads boys rp/text bots (+Caleb ofc), and chill!

Masterlist

Sequel - Caleb Loves to Bully You in Bed

It burns.

The air’s filled with plumes of smoke, darkened to an ugly red clouded in ash. It waters your eyes and fills your lungs with soot, wracking you with dry coughs that destroy your throat. It’s hot — so hot — your body feels heavy. You’re crawling — you think? But the ground seems to slide beneath you, and your palms scrape against the concrete, bloodied.

Though your ears ring a terrible, destitute tune and your chest cries in agony — the only thing your mind screams is to get away. Run. Crawl. Slide. Drag your useless limbs and get away. You have to run; stand up and run but your body just lays there.

It’s coming. You can’t get away — you’ll die. You don’t want to die. Shelter’s right there. So close — so close. You drag past a mangled, severed arm, and instantly retch. But you keep moving. So near. Right there. But the sound of inhuman dragging grates your ears behind you and—

Your eyes shoot open, body doused in a sheen of sweat and heart ready to burst. The sheets feel far too sticky and clammy under your fingers and you’re quick to peel them off — rid yourself of anything that makes you feel hot. Confined.

One breath, two, three… it takes a moment to gather your bearings. You’re not freshly seven drowning in a sea of pain and desperate tears. You’re in your childhood home, resting on your sheets and surrounded by memories of the past.

Seems that no matter how much time passes, your dreams will always find a way to torment you as though you lived them yesterday.

What a mood-killer. You’re finally in your old home after an extended absence, and all your mind can do is taunt you by conjuring up your darkest memories.

The room’s bathed in darkness — a glance at your watch shows it’s late in the middle of the night. Not exactly time to rise, but you’re not so trusting of your dreams either. The sweat that dampens your brows and the front of your shirt feels disgusting, so you fan yourself mindlessly. You have to do something, be anywhere but here.

You’re quick to stand, stumbling a little from the sudden shift in gravity. Your eyes are still bleary, crusted, and you rub at them as you trudge out your room.

The house is dead silent, which only makes the sound of your footsteps more apparent, has you silently wincing at every step. Still, you do your best to move quiet as you can to the fridge. Grab yourself a water and chug about half of it in one gulp, cooling your clammy skin and ridding that feeling of scalding — of hot ash coating your throat. You enjoy the crinkle of the cool bottle in your grasp, how the mundane, predictable noise reminds you of reality and the now.

The incessant buzz of crickets in the distance is almost calming. The house is otherwise tranquil and calm. Peace and — you hear a quiet thump. Okay, not as quiet as you thought. Setting the bottle down, you slowly turn toward the noise, reminding your quickening pulse that unless your hunter’s watch is buzzing with a warning, there’s no imminent danger.

A few footsteps and… a tall figure emerges from the doorway, bending so he can properly fit through. Though he’s doused in shadow and you can only make out the slight glimmer of his two-toned irises, his name naturally falls from your lips.

“Caleb…”

“Thought I heard someone sneaking around in here. Why am I not surprised?” He languidly strides across the moonlit room, pausing to gently ruffle your hair like its tradition; he’s been doing it for so long, it might as well be. Even when you two were little and you had a bit of height on him (he’d prop up on his tip toes to pat your head — it was pretty adorable, in hindsight.) So you can’t bring yourself to swat his hand away as he goes for the fridge to grab a drink of his own.

Instead of drinking, though, Caleb pauses and scrutinizes the water, like it did a personal wrong to him. Before you get the chance to probe his mind, he presses the chilled bottle against your forehead. The cold makes you flinch on instinct and shoot a quick glare at him.

“What was that for?”

“Wake up call. Did you get thirsty in the middle of the night? Or you just can’t sleep?” He raises a brow, wearing a grin coated with worry as he takes a drink. Caleb’s always been terribly perceptive, he seemed to just know when you were having a terrible day or if something was amiss. Whether it was the years you’ve spent in each other’s company or Caleb’s innate sensitivity to human emotion, you have no clue. A mix of both, maybe.

Like always, he watches. You look away.

“Thirsty.”

“Uh huh. And I guess all that thirst’s what made your eyes red. You’re looking a little hot there too. Should I crank up the A/C?” Caleb raises a brow, and you wonder why he even bothers asking when he comes to his own conclusions. He should hardly be able to tell these things in the dark — does he just know? Or are the faint streaks of moonlight through the window just enough to tell him everything he needs?

“It’s not a bad thing to admit when you’re having nightmares, y’know. I mean, when you were a kid, you’d come knocking on my door in near tears and—“

“I get it, Caleb. I don’t need the whole rundown.” You snap, fighting the immediate embarrassment that wells up at your vulnerability and dependence as a child. For how strong you like to deem yourself now, it’s not like that was always the case. You were an easily frightened kid, especially jumpy after the attack. You clung to everyone and everything around you because you lost everything you held dear once before.

“And for the record,” you add, “it was a two way street. I can name a few times you came to my room saying you just wanted to talk. You look like you’d been crying for the past hour.” Right. Seeking solace in one another because you were confused kids who had their lives flipped upside down in a single afternoon.

You and Caleb were friends before the tragedy, neighbors who played together a few times at most. Not best friends, but he was the nice kid down the block you enjoyed spending time with.

When you found Caleb during the Catastrophe, you remember like it was only days ago. Crawling frantically, trying not to collapse from the pain that engulfed your being enough to make your vision swirl. In the makeshift shelter, you saw a few injured adults — some minimal, some fatal, and even fewer children crying tended to by lesser wounded adults. You could barely sit up. Someone tried to offer assistance, you think, but then a kid your size rushed beside you and knelt down, asking if you were okay.

Your ears were ringing and you could barely get a noise out, but you could tilt your head up and see those raven eyes with a hint of amber, full of absolute terror. You whispered his name so hoarse — “Caleb…” and like the turning of a faucet, an ugly mesh of tears and mucus immediately began streaming down your face. The smell of red — death, the sights, your bloodied hands, aching body, screaming heart, all honed in at once. All you could do was sob while Caleb knelt down beside you and cradled your head, tears prickling his eyes. It didn’t take long for you two to break down in one another’s arms.

From then on, you couldn’t help but stick to Caleb like glue. Caleb was the only person you had connected to your old life — the only remaining stability when everything else crumbled to dust. When you were bundled in your room and didn’t even want to talk to Grandma because she was some strange adult whom you now lived with — Caleb would sit in with you. He’d remain as long as he had to, validate every last awful thought you had in your frustrations and soothe you with sweet caresses and gentle words. As embarrassing as it is to recall, as a child, he was your lifeline. Caleb’s the reason you didn’t run away in a frenzy when everything was too much and you felt like you just needed to be away and gone. He’s the reason you were able to eventually adapt to your new lifestyle and warm up to Grandma over time. It’s ridiculous, really, how much Caleb meant and was able to do for you by just existing as himself. Caleb could sit in your room minding his business, and his presence alone was enough to soothe your tired limbs and mind from punching your pillows and recalling every terrible thing that happened that fated day.

He was always there for you, one way or another. It’s just the way it’s always been.

It’d be nice if you had something of an effect like that on him, too.

“Right. Because sometimes a little chat is all you need when you’re not doing so hot,” Caleb says, leaning on the counter and gesturing his bottle to you. Yeah, just like him alright, to flip it around on you even when you try to call him out. Makes it feel like every conversation with him is a losing battle, like he always has the upper hand because he knows just the right thing to say and how to say it.

“Alright, alright. Yeah, I had a nightmare. Happy?” You sigh, resigned at this point. You can’t even really be angry when Caleb’s been nothing but reasonable from the start, speaks out of pure care and concern. Rather, perhaps it’s the fact that he’s always reasonable you tend to get irate.

“‘Course not. It’s not like I like hearing you still get them. But it’s nice to have someone to talk to instead of keeping it all to yourself, right?” His eyes crinkle so sweetly, non-judgmental. It’s that look that always breaks you, forces you to spill anything and everything he can pull from you. He never takes advantage, just offers support, so you fall into his trap every time.

“It’s not like I’m a kid anymore. I can’t just run to you every time I have a bad dream,” you still utter. It’s weak at best, but you can’t toss all your issues onto Caleb like you did as a child. He lost everything that day too, and he still took the time to comfort and spoil you every single time you sought him out (or he came to you), no matter the day or hour. How many of those times did he cry himself, but choke back the tears just so he could attend to you?

“I didn’t say all that. But it’s not gonna kill you to quit bottling up your emotions, y’know.” The amber in Caleb’s eyes seem to flash, and yours flicker down in turn. Sometimes it feels like he still sees the same seven-year-old you once were, pitiful and dependent.

“I… know that. It’s just….”

A heavy breath leaves Caleb’s nose. He closes his eyes, sits on his words, and opens them with a twinkle of clarity.

“You gonna fall back asleep soon?”

You blink. “Huh?” Caleb doubles down.

“You planning on going back to bed soon? Or what?”

You chew on your lip, trying to gauge the meaning in his words. You pull up nothing, so you decide to just answer honestly. “…Not really.”

“Alright then, keep me company.” Caleb swings around to face the foyer, casting a long glance over his shoulder. “I’ve always been more of a night owl anyway.”

The liar. Caleb’s always been able to get up at the crack of dawn since he was a teen. It’s such an obvious fib, but he says it anyway, shamelessly directing you to his room.

You’ll let him have this one though; swallow your complaints and choose his method. You dip your head and follow him to his room, still decorated with posters of My Life as a Hunter and old-school shooter games he raved over as a kid. Though he grew a passion for piloting after a period, he still had an interest in Hunter shows as an early teen, posters and figures scattered about his room proof as such. You think they existed in attempt to ease the public into the idea of Hunters, hell, even to coerce a few impressionable people in the process. A small part of you always wanted a way to reign in control of your life, to be someone who can do the saving, not sit in tears and wait to be saved. The show just increased your resolve, if anything. Though, you remember a short period where Caleb tried to convince you otherwise.

Eventually, you think he understood well enough to quietly show his support, if only because you weren’t backing down. And it tickles the nose a little, knowing you’re now something he admired with sparkling eyes as a kid.

Like always, he sits on his bed, and you take a spot in the swivel chair at his desk, idly spinning back and fourth. There’s a dim, pale night light to give the room a low glow. It’s easy on the eyes and you can still comfortably make out the ridges of Caleb’s face, his indiscernible expression when he settles and just seems to think.

“…Feels like we haven’t done this in forever,” You murmur, eyes trailing around each and every corner. You well with nostalgia, so much it makes your heart ache, bittersweet.

“Yeah, guess we didn’t get much time once I left. Not soon after you were off getting your Hunter’s license, so we were both pretty busy,” Caleb responds, and you wonder if he feels the same way you do. A tinge of sadness, but serenity at the familiar scene. Getting to sit in one another’s company like you always would in the past.

“Getting used to you not always being around was…” It feels embarrassing to just admit how much you missed him, how empty the house felt without his lively presence. “Hard. Harder than I expected, anyway.”

“It was weird not waking up to Gran’s cooking or your demands, that’s for sure.”

“Demands?”

“Don’t take it the wrong way. You always act so proper around other people, but not with me and Gran. Everyone needs a place to loosen up, someone you can just be yourself around. And a little selfish.” Caleb’s laugh makes your cheeks warm, though your ears seem to love it. It fills you with various memories and you realize man, you really missed Caleb. When you talk, it’s like you two were never separated. But it’s times like these the feeling of truly getting to see him every day, just be with him, swells in your heart. You sigh, grasp your nightshirt, and peer at Caleb through your lashes because you fear how telling your expression is.

“Then… is it the same for you? Or was it easier to loosen up around your friends?” You ask nonchalantly, as though the question wasn’t gnawing at you from the inside out. Did Caleb feel at home, or like he had to put on a show and be the ‘strong one’, only able to let loose when he’s around peers and not biting off more than he can chew?

“Mmm…” You hear a low hum, and fingers ghost over your forehead, gone before you can even get a noise out. Caleb watches you intently, enough to make you break his gaze first. He looks pleased.

“It’s different with other friends, sure. Because you’re not them, and they’re not you. There’s ways I can relax with them, and reasons I can relax here,” he answers. His gaze feels loaded, and you vaguely wonder if there’s more to that answer with how his eyes bore into you. But you bite your tongue and decide to let the question go unsaid.

“I see.”

Caleb’s gaze persists. It’s gentle, not demanding of anything, or even expectant. But for some reason, it makes you want to turn away so you don’t have to be subject to it.

“I did miss home y’know, pipsqueak.” You wonder if that’s what Caleb was watching for, trying to see if you were silently doubtful. You bite your lip and decide to just let the words spill out before your pride makes you swallow them whole.

“I missed you.”

Caleb’s eyelids widen almost imperceptibly, but you still catch it. He blinks, and they relax with this look that feels fond, but also seems to carry another aspect you can’t decipher with so little light.

The sound of crickets buzz in the distance. The extended silence makes your grip tighten on the arm rest.

“This necklace is nice, y’know. Whenever anyone asks, I get to bring you up. They probably get sick of it after a while,” Caleb murmurs, and he lifts the silver chain you placed around his neck, ruby glimmering in the light. Knowing he kept it, the way he so proudly handles the chain, makes you feel fuzzy.

“You tell other people about me?”

“So much they could probably write an essay. How you’d cling to me as a kid, when we’d hang out together, how, for a short while, we were all the other had.” Caleb squeezes the chain and lets it dangle against his tee, expression gentle, and part of you wishes you had a chain too. Something to remind you of Caleb, an excuse to think or talk about him. To rub between your fingers and recall a time you were both in a fit of laughter, young, happy and free.

“I relied on you a lot. More than you deserved, especially as a kid. …Sorry.”

“Seriously?” Caleb gapes, and a snort leaves his mouth. “Never thought I’d hear that. But you don’t have to—no. I don’t want you to apologize. It was nice. Part of me kinda misses it. I mean I get it, you can handle your own. It’s not like you need me looking after you anymore, but… I liked it. And nowadays, I can’t help wanting to at least support you,” Caleb shrugs, like those words don’t penetrate your core and settle deep in your chest, breath hitching. A million responses swim through your mind, none of them breaking the surface.

“Oh, uh…” It’s… embarrassing, hearing that blatantly said aloud.

“And, to be perfectly clear, I missed you too,” he adds. Your throat bobs. You enjoy hearing those words from his mouth, the way he says them so easily with a hint of affection. While it’s enough to make your body feel flush with embarrassment, it’s nice he’s never too stubborn to show his care. If anything, you’re far more stubborn in admitting your feelings. Perhaps that’s why you told yourself to just say it, not let the pride win and be honest every once in a while.

“It… sucks. I only get to see you for a few days at most and poof, you’re gone,” you gesture along with your words, hastily getting them out while you still have the weak confidence to. “Your cooking, waking up to you everyday, when you get me little snacks just because…” Your legs swing back and fourth, antsy, but your heart feels lighter when you can freely speak your mind, say all the things you were too prideful to say as a kid.

Caleb listens silently with solicitous eyes. His mouth parts, closes again, and he seems to swallow. You time the kick of your legs, so you don’t start kicking them faster while you’re left on the waiting end, mute until Caleb responds.

“It’s pretty dull not having your own personal 5-star chef, huh?” He finally says, with a grin, and you softly deflate. Your legs slow to a stop, and your heart feels heavy again.

“Yeah… I… I guess—“

“No,” Caleb hisses under his breath. You think it’s to himself. But he leans forward on his duvet and reaches up, brushing his fingers over the jut of your eyebrows so light you can barely feel the touch. Your eyes shut reflectively, and his hand eases to your cheek, knuckles gently sliding down. You peek an eye at the sudden touch, trying to not make your mild startle too known. He’s the type to stroke your head or push you away in jest. This brand of touch is new. Foreign.

Your lips tremble and Caleb’s eyes flicker down to them.

“I’d do all those things every day, if I could. Listen to you get ridiculously excited about those rare kitty cards, see you when I get home from work; when you get home from work…” His knuckles trail down to your chin, dangerously close to your lips.

You inhale slowly, and try not to show your panic when your heart begins to beat an erratic rhythm. This is the first time Caleb’s ever made your heart race — like this anyway, and a flurry of thoughts and emotions you never dared consider all invade you at once. If you were standing, you’d stumble on the spot.

“I miss seeing your mug, what can I say?” Caleb laughs, gives your face two playful pats, and retracts his fingers. You withhold the urge to chase them, press his palm against your cheek. Instead, you bite the inside of your cheek to curb the desire.

They’re nothing but strange thoughts in the heat of the moment, a little too drawn in by the touch of his fingers after not seeing him for so long. Equating nostalgia with attraction is not a good look, and you know to smother it in its wisps before it engulfs into a bed of flames.

“When — when we were kids it was kind of like this,” you begin, trying to even out the tremor in your voice. “We weren’t telling each other we missed one another, of course. But I’d sit in this chair. And you’d wipe my tears when I was sad. No matter how long it took.” You say, and you know you’re just making conversation to push your mind away from uncouth thoughts. With luck, Caleb won’t pick up on a thing.

“Yeah, you were a bit of a crybaby. Always barging in, no matter the time, just to have someone to cry to. It was pretty cute, though.” Caleb stands slowly, already no more than a foot in front of you, and he bends down to rest one hand on the armrest while the other palm holds your cheek, thumb swiping under your eye. “Just like this.”

This… feels dangerous. The part of you that automatically reacts to his teasing wants to glare and push his hand away, scoffing and spouting some retort. That’s how you should respond, how he expects you to.

This new, faint part of you wants to close your eyes and lean your cheek into his palm, turn your head so your lips rest on his fingertips. You do neither, and just peer up at him through your lashes, too scared to tilt your head up and have your face reveal every dirty thought racing through your brain.

“It was cute when you’d come to me, too. You’d sit next to me, trying to act all strong. Then I’d pat your shoulder and you’d go ‘I’m not crying’ while you kept wiping your eyes. Couldn’t fool a baby. But it made me happy. That you came to me,” You speak, and reach up to Caleb’s shoulder, giving it a few soft pats. “Just like this.”

Caleb’s fingers dig into the armrest though his face remains moderately amused. He tilts his head, murmurs a “Guess we were both the type to tear up,” with a cryptic smile, and moves to pull his hand away.

Subconsciously, against any rational thought, you chase after him and hold tight to his shoulder, other hand keeping Caleb’s palm firmly in place.

He blinks once, twice. The moment is palpable. You know you can’t explain yourself out of this, but your gut instinct just doesn’t care. It craves to stay in Caleb’s proximity, to keep him by you. Like he’d melt away if you let go, and the moment would be lost to eternity.

“Pipsqueak?” He murmurs, rubbing a curious thumb across your cheek and it’s all you can really take. You feel the way Caleb tenses up when you bury your nose in his palm, when you shakily inhale and just settle into its warmth. You think you’re trembling a little, and fear eats at your racing heart. Fear of shattering the relationship you have — pushing beyond the bounds of your preconceived ‘normal’. This isn’t what you and Caleb are. Caleb calls you an infuriatingly affectionate nickname when he checks up on you. You and Caleb bicker about mindless things and easily make up in a few hours because Caleb always gives in. You and Caleb were friends since you were children, kids who played together, teens who begrudgingly got along, and adults who were still close and made efforts to visit home on your shared time off.

It wasn’t whatever the hell this was. And the guilt that rises in your throat is immense, taking Caleb’s actions to make them something they’re not — twisting his kind gestures into something awful. You force yourself to recede from his palm, mouth open to utter a soft apology.

Just as that soft ‘sorry’ passes your lips, Caleb coaxes your head up, peers long and hard into your eyes, like he’s searching the depths to find whatever it is he seeks, needs.

You think he finds it, because his breath hitches, the hand on your face seems to quiver, and his face leans so close to yours. Not touching, no, his hot breaths ghost over your lips, his nose tickling your cheek. You swallow thickly, and the warmth from his proximity spreads like wildfire.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he whispers, urgent. Almost desperate, like it takes every ounce of self-restraint to remain as he is. So near but never bridging the small gap.

“I…” You start, knowing this is the tipping point. He’s still kind enough to give you an out, to let you reject any notion of whatever this is and pretend none of it ever happened. Makes it seem like he doesn’t want it to happen. Caleb’s always been kind like that. And maybe, in the long run, it would be the better option. To not risk destroying the relationship you’ve built and nurtured for well over a decade.

But, meeting his pleading eyes with your own, you know the only words that can leave your mouth. It’s the sole thought that repeated over and over in tandem with each shaky sigh that parted from his pink lips.

Slowly opening your mouth, you take the plunge. “I do.”

You don’t know whether Caleb’s face flashes with relief or pain — maybe both — and his lips press so deep into yours, slow and heated. It elicits a quiet, gasping noise from your throat that Caleb swallows. You have to wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself because his kisses are starved, like he’s been craving this moment forever and you wonder if that’s really the case. His hand on the armrest moves down to grasp your thigh and a pleased noise rumbles in the back of your throat, his thumb stroking the inside of it so tenderly you could tremble. The sense of relief, of immediate euphoria of having this man on your lips almost makes you wanna cry as he kisses you senseless, licks his tongue into your mouth and coaxes every soft noise he can with each repeated press of his lips. When your fingers sneak up to his neck, quiet sounds hum in his throat and they envelop your mind, drugging you with the sound and feel of him. You could do this for hours, kiss Caleb until the only thing your mouth knows is the taste of him.

“I can’t believe —“ Caleb gasps between breathless kisses, speaking against your lips and sliding his hand down to rest on the junction of your head and neck. You tremble and he pecks the corner of your mouth in response, as though to soothe you. “You’re actually—“ He kisses at your cheek, then your nose affectionately. You feel the heat rise in your neck and avert your gaze out of pure embarrassment. “Letting me…” He laughs against your cheek, face alight and you hope the pain you perceived earlier is a little lessened now.

“I didn’t know you wanted to…” You murmur, and stretch your neck up again to capture his lips. Somehow, each kiss only seems to improve upon the last, and when his fingers slide against your neck, a quiet moan vibrates in your throat. Caleb pulls back with low lids and ragged breaths, lips pinker than you’ve ever seen and covered with a sheen of saliva. Kiss swollen’s never a look you imagined on him, but you quite like it.

“Guess I’m good at keeping secrets then,” Caleb says in a huff of soft laughter, and he’s gently tugging, guiding your body up and off the chair to sit beside him on the duvet. “Or,” he leans down and pets the front of your throat, lips steady against your fluttering pulse. “You’re just stupidly oblivious.”

“There’s no way I would’ve…” you begin to murmur as your fingers clench on his nightclothes. Your body reacts to the sensation of his lips kissing every bit of skin he can reach on your neck, licking but mindful enough to not leave marks and the consideration alone is hot enough to make you shudder.

Could you have? Your mind is hazy and each time Caleb mouths at your throat you lose it a little more, but you vaguely replay memories in your mind. Caleb’s mindfulness, his perception, his endless kindness — but he’s like that with everyone, so how could you have known you were special beyond your friendship and shared past? Granted you probably got a little extra pampering from him — but you shared a home. Of course you’d get more if you saw him more.

“Good. I was never gonna tell you, y’know,” he breathes. His large hands gently ease you backwards and you comply, letting him press you against the mattress. It smells like a mix of him — that same oak body wash he’s used since he was a teen (thankfully you bullied him out of that terrible smelling cologne phase), and fresh detergent from the laundry he took care of earlier. You resist the urge to turn your head and bury it into the covers, inhale deep, for you’re sure it’d come off as a little strange.

“Never?”

“Never.” He rests his forearms next to your head, face mere inches away. He seems to like watching you, those dimly lit eyes of his boring into you. “I mean, I thought about it sometimes. But we’ve known each other what, sixteen years now? We played together since we were preschoolers,” he sighs, thumb brushing over your cheek. His face is so raw and open, flushed and longing. Like he can finally spill every dirty little secret he’s kept hidden forever. His thumb moves to swipe across your lip and you kiss it — innocently enough. His breath stutters.

Then you open your mouth, gently suck on the digit, and he stops breathing altogether.

“Mm…” You hum in agreement, though with the way Caleb’s eyes darken, you figure it more resembles a moan.

“Damn,” he curses, and experimentally swipes across your tongue. You shamelessly take his thumb in deeper, revel in the way his lips tremble and he bites them, as though to curb some thought or action that sprung in his mind in response.

“You’re friends with someone that long, you figure there’s no chance. Figured you saw me as a brother or something. I mean, I kinda did it to myself,” he speaks, but looks absolutely enthralled by your mouth around his thumb. The way you swirl your tongue around him, encouraging him to just let go. You think his words are half spoken on instinct with how dazed and red-faced he looks.

“Fuck , if I just knew…” Caleb hisses, and he leans forward for balance, forehead pressed against yours (he’s so warm) while his hand slips under the hem of your shirt, resting just below your navel. The proximity to your waistband makes you subconsciously squirm a little, and his hand presses firmer, stilling your hips. “I could’ve done this so much sooner.”

You try to murmur a response past his thumb but the welcome intrusion makes your words incoherent. He gently retracts it from your lips to press against them, saliva coating his thumb, your lips, and wetting your chin.

“What’s that, pipsqueak?” He murmurs. You feel his hand creep up to trace your abdomen, catch at your side and massage there mindlessly.

“For someone who wants to do this so bad…” you sigh, and look up at him, unamused, trying not to let your mild fluster show. It seems even pinned under him, you can’t help but want to be a bit of a brat in his presence. “You’re sure taking your sweet time.”

Caleb’s brow twitches and he completely stills, staring at you with those gorgeous sunset eyes of his up close. You watch his throat bob as he swallows, and his fingers on your torso squeeze, not painful, just a firm hold.

“What the hell am I gonna do with you?” he finally exhales, exasperation plain on his face. He affectionately rubs his forehead against yours, the gesture so sweet it makes your heart swell. “Don’t forget, you’re the one that spurred me on.”

And like a man on a mission, the sweet moment is gone, replaced by greedy lips and needy hands. His mouth is back on yours and you gift him an appeased hum, instantly lost in the warmth of lips and the way he kisses you like he’ll never kiss again. So heated, so, so perfect, and you reach your fingers to tighten in his hair, lift your hips to wrap your legs around his torso. You both sink into the duvet with the strength of his kiss, his hands shamelessly trailing up and down your torso, mapping it out, squeezing when he hears quiet noises and whines emerge from your throat.

You think Caleb enjoys the sounds you make most, because he’ll do anything and everything to draw them out of you, hands frisky and shameless. They’re calloused and rough in the best way and you squeeze his hair in approval, press fleeting kisses to the corner of his lips when you part to breathe. He laughs, happy, and you laugh in turn.

“It’s a little hot, don’t you think?” He murmurs, and uses that as his excuse to push the hem of your shirt past your chest, encourages you to slip your shirt off and sit with your bare torso.

The way he stares at your body, your chest, like there’s nothing else in the word makes your body singe. You reach a hand up to cover his wandering eyes, scoffing. “Don’t just stare, it’s embarrassing.”

“All that talk and you’re embarrassed when I look at you?” He gives your hand a few taps before prying it away, taking in the view just as shamelessly as he did before, if not more so. You’d smack his face with a pillow if he didn’t have your hand held so tightly. “Telling me not to look’s like telling a dehydrated man not to drink. It’s plain cruel,” he laughs, and pulls your hand to his lips to give your fingers a fleeting kiss. Your eyelids flutter alongside your heart, and he grins.

Satisfied with the view, he slides down on the covers (you have to loosen your legs to accommodate), and stares up at you with a playful, shit-eating grin, his chin rested perfectly above your chest. “You don’t mind, right?”

“Don’t ask, do,” you huff, turning your head away in mock annoyance. Caleb’s more than happy to oblige and hums his approval while his hands move to trace the contours of your chest, moves down to press a light kiss to one side, and is quick to focus his mouth where it’s sensitive, have the bud harden under his tongue and send shocks of pleasure coursing through your body.

It even surprises you, how much you feel your face flame not just from pleasure, but pure embarrassment. This is Caleb , of all people. Not just some guy you started crushing on. Being this vulnerable and having his lips on your chest isn’t something you imagined even yesterday. If he saw you like this yesterday, you’d definitely die from shame. There’s not a glimmer of regret, but there’s heaps of embarrassment to spare and you bury your face into the pillow under you, tensing the more he plays. You knew nipples could feel good, but wow, they can feel good and his mouth on them sends shocks straight down your abdomen, makes heat settle low between your legs.

Finally, he pulls away, though his thumbs still graze over them, and he moves up to press a kiss to your jaw. “Don’t get all shy now. C’mon, show me that cute face of yours,” he hums, and you want to bury it even further being called cute (seriously, what the hell? You don’t know if it’s more embarrassing or insulting). But if only to show some semblance of control and confidence, you pull your head away and force yourself to meet Caleb’s adoring eyes, giving him a halfhearted glare with lips curled into a small pout.

“Looking at me like that only makes me wanna tease you more,” he murmurs, and moves to kiss your cheek (he’s so affectionate. It’s so much you almost don’t know how to handle it). And his hands slide down from your chest, settle at your waist and massage right above the band of your sweatpants. So close but not enough, the more his thumbs tease the more the heat becomes unbearable.

“Maybe you should use that mouth of yours for something other than talking,” you grumble, palms pushing Caleb’s head away. You huff with a side-turned head and peer at him from the corner of your eye, wiggling your hips. You couldn’t be more obvious.

“Demanding today, aren’t we?” He rubs his hands forward and back on your hips, trailing a slew of kisses down from the center of your chest to your abdomen, leaving flames in its wake. “Like what? I could make out with you until the sun rises, easy.”

The way Caleb looks at you, eyes flashing, you know what he wants. Those words to fall so reluctant from your tongue, to watch you drop your pride and ask. But Caleb’s had his way well enough, so instead of giving him the satisfaction of your words, you slide down your sweats and underwear, exhaling at the lack of restriction, the free air against your throbbing arousal. Caleb’s eyes go wide and you’re dragging his face between your thighs before he can retort, trying not to tremble from the absolute need that courses through your body. The thought of Caleb’s mouth on you, his tongue against you until your mind is numb.

“This.” You breathe, and Caleb can only let out a breathy chuckle.

“Whatever you say, your majesty,” he teases, smug but lets you guide his head, him dragging his hands down with it and across the planes of your thighs. They slide and down, palming close to your hips and earning him a small jolt, a bitten down noise.

Your fingers dig into his short hairs, dragging him down and rolling your hips to meet him halfway, urgent, needing. Caleb complies, gently mouthing at your inner thighs, biting at them (that gets a startled sound out of you that you instantly smother in fear of making too much noise.) And kisses and licks his way further up until he’s exactly where he needs to be, breaths hot and lips so close they could brush over you.

“To think you’re like this already…” he murmurs, cheeks flushed, and he dives his head down to slowly lick you into his mouth, your legs tensing and fingers shivering. His hands pet your thighs soothingly (it only makes you tremble more) and he sucks, holds your thighs so nice while they shake in his touch. He’s horribly slow, taking his sweet time to mouth against you, kiss against your aching heat and so gently take it into his mouth, painstakingly swirls his tongue. It’s not enough and you roll your hips into his mouth, mumbling curses.

“Dammit Caleb…” you groan, urging for more, grabbing and releasing at his hair, and his eyes flicker up to you, pupils blown and face a pretty red.

“Mm…” He hums, you shudder, and try not to burn at the sight of Caleb so pleased between your legs. Hands anchored to your thighs, mouth busy with a hardworking tongue as he eagerly lavishes you with attention. It’s good this time, not slow torture, and Caleb easily lets you rock your hips into his mouth, whine under the flat of his tongue and the sight of him between your legs. He pushes, holds you when you gasp and jerk into his touch and murmurs soothing hums while his mouth is busy on the taste of you. Your hips develop a rhythm of their own, chasing Caleb’s mouth over and over and when he briefly pulls back, he’s quick to stroke his fingers where his lips were, watch you sigh and and clutch at the parts of him you can reach.

“I wanna—“ he breathes, leans down to kiss the swell of your heat, laughs when you jump because of how swollen, how sensitive you are to his every move. You drag his face back down, his lips around you, not letting him finish the words he was trying to say. You just — his mouth — his warmth, you need, and you buck your hips into his touch, bursts of pleasure coming through you in waves the more his mouth moves in rhythm, the perfect pace he sets and the unfair way his tongue seems to do just the right thing to make you whine against bitten lips.

“Caleb,” you whisper, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper. Caleb’s tactic changes, he’s using one hand to keep a steady grip on your thigh while the other reaches up stroke at your sensitive hip, then sneaks up to your nipple to tease it under his thumb and forefinger. His mouth remains occupied, tongue and lips unrelenting, and the dual pleasure is so much it almost feels like too much. But he moves, hot, mouth in tandem with your restless hips, confident and warm and the almost unbearable heat between your legs grows and grows, until you’re biting back a strangled noise and digging your fingers into Caleb’s scalp. You hold his head in place while you ride out the throes of pleasure, Caleb’s mouth easing you through it, still pressing and stroking with the heat of his tongue when the orgasm ebbs away. You have to squirm and push Caleb’s head away, panting and soaked in a sheen of sweat.

Caleb’s lips, nose, chin, are coated in you and he shamelessly licks what he can away, watches as you breathe, catch your breath amidst the aftershocks of your pleasure. Your entire body feels flushed with heat, and the only sound you’re capable of making are quiet gasps for a moment or two.

“Fuck,” Caleb breathes, presses a hand over his mouth and he’s scrambling off the bed, rushing to rifle through his drawers. He pulls out a bottle of lube and jerks his head to where you’re still settled on the bed, steadying your pulse. You’ve eased yourself to sit up on your elbows, so you can watch in your curiosity, see what’s got him so worked up. Seeing him still fully clothed while your pants lay sweat-ridden and bunched at your ankles, shirt tossed in some corner makes your face fill with heat.

“Can I—would you—“ he returns to the bed, crawls between your open thighs and presses his forehead to yours. The heat of his breaths make you dizzy, and you can feel the flicker of a flame despite just bursting with heat. “Fuck, I just…” he murmurs, moving his head down to rest against your shoulder, lips pressing against the jut of the bone. And the way his nose presses against you, he nuzzles against you and so dearingly asks makes the answer come far too easy. You inhale, stroke his cheek, and nod.

“Mhm,” you agree, moving your head to press a sweet kiss to Caleb’s temple. He groans, wastes no time coating his fingers and slipping them against you, stroking in a tease, then pressing in one.

It’s cold, you tense and Caleb mouths at your collarbone, murmuring “I got you,” while his fingers sits, letting you adjust and you relax to the chill, shudder to the way the digit settles in you, doesn’t feel like enough, and he moves.

Maybe — you think — you didn’t properly think this through. Because while you’ve a short respite from coming, now you have a finger inside you, a hand exploring every inch of your body it can reach, and lips playing with the soft patch between your neck and shoulder that has you sighing and subconsciously quivering. Somehow it’s all too much and not enough all too soon after — and you actively dig your teeth into your lip to keep quiet, not risk sounds traveling through the walls.

“So…” Caleb inhales, his lips travel down to kiss at your chest, lick at your nipples once more and they stand to attention at his efforts. “So damn warm…” You wonder if he means the heat from your body or the way you feel around his finger. His lips tease while his finger thrusts at a steady rhythm and when it becomes comfortable (and lacking). You start to grind into his touch, craving more, shuddering when a soft noise leaves his throat.

You exhale, peer at the pink cheeks of your childhood friend — hell, your best friend. You feel your heart melt, then your body melt in tandem when his finger slips out so he can ease two of them in, slowly stretching you. They move deep, curling inside you and with the just perfect brush of his fingertips, you let out a pitched gasp and pull a hand up to cover your mouth. Caleb doesn’t say a thing, instead makes sure to move against that bundle of sensitive nerves over and over, watches you tense and squirm the more he focuses his attention.

“You’re pretty good at keeping quiet,” Caleb praises, and moves his face up to draw you into a long kiss, mouth in sync with the way he fucks you with his fingers, steady and perfectly bent to leave you panting. You whine against him, chasing his fingers with your hips. He sucks on your bottom lip, pulling away with a dirty pop, lips glistening. “Can’t wait for the day you don’t have to hold back.”

“Hah—shit…” You curse, wanting to come up with a coherent response but your words catch in your throat, interrupted by gasps, and your mind can’t even conjure what to say to something like that, but you feel your body throb, your hips jump at his praise. Caleb hums, presses a kiss to your cheek, and slides down.

He does that thing where he looks up at you from between your legs, cheek rested on your thighs damp with sweat. His lips curl into that gorgeous, sinful grin that’s stupidly hot and infuriating all at once and you squeeze his hair in half-assed annoyance. He kisses one thigh, turns and sucks a gentle bruise into the other - fuck, why does that feel so damn good. And he busies his mouth with the taste of you, fingers working a slowly building rhythm that has your palm firm over your mouth and the other hand steady in his hair while you try — and fail, to not fall into a haze of pleasure. You almost want to curse, being so weak under his fingers and mouth. Flip the scene and give him a taste of his own medicine. But his tongue knows just what to do and he knows just the way to move his head to have you unable to do anything but let out choked gasps and rut into his eager mouth.

Though you take his fingers easily now, feel prepared enough to handle all he has to offer, he doesn’t stop. The sound of his fingers sliding in and out of you and his pretty, obscene mouth on you fill the otherwise silent room, save for your gasps and sighs. You curl against him and huff, biting your lip and using both palms to still his head.

“If you keep going, I’ll—“ you warn, because his fingers aren’t enough but his mouth is too much, and if you’re left a quivering mess you won’t be able to handle Caleb fucking you on top of it. Caleb hums, his glimmering eyes flicker up to you, and you think they crinkle in amusement. You’ve learned not to trust that face of his.

And of course, the dick , he keeps going. Holds you down with one hand so he can push and spread his fingers deep, taste you on his tongue as he sucks. It’s enough to have you arching your back, whimpering quiet noises into the pillow you bury your face into. Your hips squirm of your own according, the heat pooling in your gut and threatening to burst and you try to push his head away, gasp weak complaints. Too much if he doesn’t stop you’ll — But he’s relentless and overwhelming. Fingers curling, mouth moving, his hand gripping your waist. And your body accepts it all until that feeling crescendos again, you turning into a shaking mess as you whisper quiet curses into the pillow, try to escape his mouth but he licks and pumps his fingers into you all throughout it to prologue how your back arches, the high washes over you over and over. When you slowly relax, he pulls away with a messy mouth, leaving you with breaths labored and somehow still sane enough to sport a glare.

“I told you—“

“Sorry,” he says, and kisses at your navel while he watches you with enthralled eyes, like you’re a piece of stunning art. But his eyes aren’t apologetic in the least, and you’d think it right to demand a proper one if your heart wasn’t thundering so quick you think it’ll leap out your chest. He sighs, scoots up to press a kiss against your chin, and whispers, so quiet. “Can I…?”

You huff, try to steady your breathing, and zone into the dull ache between your legs and the empty feeling from losing his fingers. Of course you want it, want him, it’s a matter of already having been pleasured to hell and back by this man twice. You’re spent, even if the idea of Caleb nude and flushed against you is hot as hell.

“There’s a reason I tried to tell you…” you sigh, brush some slick hairs from his eyes and observe the dazed, greedy look in his eyes. He really just wants it all, doesn’t he? You always thought you were spoiled by Caleb, but maybe, there are times when you spoil him.

“Mmm… it’s just nice, seeing you lose your composure,” he nuzzles into your neck, breath warm and your entire body reacts to something so small, so soft. “But we’ve got all the time in the world. Next time.”

And he exhales so warm, pulls his head away and you immediately grab both cheeks, drag Caleb’s lips to yours and kiss him so sweetly it feels something akin to love. Your hips tingle, and the idea makes you absolutely dizzy, but you mouth it against his lips anyway.

“Finish what you started.”

Caleb doesn’t immediately answer or react, he simply observes you, watches the way your arms cling to him. For good measure, you wrap your legs around him and roll, right into the hard erection confined in his pants. He gasps, gripping the duvet beside your head.

“If… If it’s too much. Just pinch me. Or tap me a few times. Do whatever, really, shit,” Caleb hisses, and he’s finally stripping off that stupid bed shirt of his and tossing it unceremoniously across his room, breaths slow and deep as though to calm himself.

It’s not your first time seeing Caleb shirtless, but it is the first time you’re able to admire the full view in dim glory. Amidst the streaks of moonlight through the window, the red of his necklace sparkles. He wears it, even in his sleep, and you try not to think too much on how he must’ve cherished it. Treated it like a prized possession, because it makes a surge of happiness flood through you with a mix of guilt for never treating Caleb’s gifts or gestures just as precious.

“Oh, so when I stare, it’s a problem. But when you stare, it’s fine, huh?” Caleb chuckles, and his pants are kicked off with no shame. He’s so eager he doesn’t even try to make it sexy, he just looks like he’s dying to feel every inch of you, finally be able to feel the whole of you tight around him. It’s so silly and so Caleb you just have to laugh, and it’s nice when he laughs in turn, makes you feel serene.

“Think of it like payback,” You decide to say. Payback for making you come from his mouth and fingers when he knew you wanted to feel him inside of you. Caleb makes an approving noise, leans back over you, and the sight of his flushed, toned body with his necklace dangling down is way sexier than it has any right to be. He slides a hand up your thigh, gives it an encouraging squeeze when you tremble, and his lips find yours in a fleeting kiss.

“Guess I gotta do all I can to make up for it,” he whispers in a ghost of a kiss, and settles between your legs, erection strained in his underwear and words way too calm for someone who looks like he can’t stand waiting a minute longer. He shoves them down well enough with one hand and he springs free, eager and leaking at the pink tip. You think it’s almost pretty, the way it stands, twitches when you thumb his cheeks.

He captures your lips the same moment he lifts your thighs, lines himself where he had his fingers buried deep only a minute or two ago, and slowly, slowly pushes. Sighs into your mouth as he sinks into you, and you grab at his back, wrap your arms so tight around him as he just fills you, moves as you cling to him. You think the wait alone is torture when he finally settles deep, hips flush to yours and mouth swallowing any weak noises you utter. You’re still so sensitive and even just the feeling of his cock inside, barely moving, is enough to make you clutch at him.

“You feel so perfect,” he utters, shaking hands settled on the sides of your face, lips plush on your jaw. He buries his face in your neck, slowly, slowly moves out, and you can feel his entire body shaking on top of you as he pushes again, deep into you and fills you perfect. So hot inside of you, you can’t help but squeeze around him. He chokes against your skin, kisses at it while his hips steadily draw out—then you think he loses his composure a little. His hips sputter, and his pushes into you quicker, steady, and holy fuck is your body just quivering and you already feel a mess, heat between your legs near unbearable and Caleb’s cock stretching you open for him.

“Caleb…” You gasp, bite back the moans that want to continually spill from your throat while Caleb steadily pumps, in and out. It’s so tender, and even though your body is an absolute mess, you just need more and drag in Caleb with the strength of your legs wrapped around him, helplessly grind into his cock, and Caleb understands the message loud and clear. He shakes, kisses your shoulder, and pulls out to snap his hips against yours, murmurs small affirmations against your skin as he fucks you, heavy and deep and your body is a squirming mess, like it isn’t even your own. You’re whining and biting back every loud, broken noise that threatens to leave your mouth with the rock of his hips.

“Shit—Caleb, it’s—“ you gasp, be hums into your shoulder and looks at you with wild eyes while he pushes into you over and over. Your legs are a mess and you’re gasping, trying to focus on swallowing down the noises in your throat but Caleb’s driving you absolutely insane and when he positions himself just right, you’re letting out a sharp cry and your body arches into his touch.

“Don’t wake the whole neighborhood now.” He coos against your collarbone, and gently covers your mouth, palm flat so all you can do is groan against his hand, weak noises and sharp gasps muffled. Every inch of you feels sensitive, alight, and the hand not silencing you gently massages your chest while he fucks you deep into the mattress, the sounds of skin against skin filling the room. It’s filthy and you absolutely love it, even if your body is screaming it’s on fire, and all your nerves are alight from being so thoroughly handled.

“Mmn—!” You gasp, unable to even articulate how it feels to have Caleb rolling his hips into yours so damn hot while you can barely control the way your body reacts. You think he swells even more when inside you, thick and hot and nearly every thrust hitting you so you see stars. You gape, claw at his neck and anything you can cling to on him, while his movements gradually speed up and he pounds into you relentlessly, cries muffled by his palm.

“You have no idea how much I wanted this…” Caleb gasps, breaths heavy, lifting his palm and resting it sweetly on your face instead. He looks at you so damn adoring while he’s fucking you senseless, watching you gasp and start to squirm under him when the sensation builds upon too much. “Wanted you. Like this.”

“Gh… Y-Yeah…?” You somehow manage to choke out while your body has a mind of its own, squirming and shaking and Caleb’s hands hold you right where he needs you as he slides in and out of you again, pulls out so only the tip is in and snaps his hips against yours in a fluid motion. You wonder if it’s because your most recent orgasm was so close, left you so sensitive you feel like you’re already on the brink. You hang onto Caleb for purchase and try not to cry out as he pushes into you over and over and over.

“You’re way too hot. You feel way too—haah —good.” Caleb curses as he moves, hold your hips and reaches a hand down between the two of you to tease you with sweet fingers while he pumps into you. “You. Undone. Under me,” he murmurs, and your hips helplessly buck into his touch, fingers clutch him tight as he fucks you.

“Y-You…ah—Caleb,” you try to respond, but the way Caleb rocks his hips, and his hand wastes no time driving you mad, you feel that feeling build, build and build so quick, so perfect. You want to retort, say anything to flip his words on him, but you know you’re a gasping mess and can’t focus your mind enough to put up a decent argument. So you clutch at his slick skin, bury your fingers so deep it pales, and whine “I’m… I’ll… ‘M about to…”

Caleb hears you loud and clear, keeps the pace of him pumping into you and is always sure to angle the way your hips slot together perfectly, so each thrust hits you with a deep wave of pleasure and his fingers leave you weak.

“You always act so strong, so tough. It’s nice I can get you like this,” he speaks, and if your mind wasn’t in such fog you’d probably be a little annoyed, but all you can do is whimper at how his voice whispers low in your ear, and the way he circles his hips perfectly to make you gasp, clench, and make him groan in return.

That feeling approaches, the familiar feeling of being undone by Caleb and at the mercy of his mouth, fingers and thrusts. He murmurs sweet words against your lips, and it’s all you can handle when you’re biting your lip and your body is pulled taught like a string, shuddering and powerful as you feel a burst of pleasure like no other, so strong and prolonged you wonder if it’ll ever end, so much you actually see white. Caleb doesn’t relent on his thrusts, fucks you through it, and he doesn’t stop when you’re quivering either and suddenly it’s too much all at once. Your body is still in tremors and shakes as he grasps your hips firm, presses a soothing kiss to your temple as you start to squirm and let out weak noises.

It’s too much and too fast and you’re so sensitive and you can’t— “Caleb,” you choke out, body naturally moving to escape the sensation, but Caleb’s hands hold you steady.

“Want—“ he rasps, “want me to stop? All you gotta do is tap me,” he murmurs so sweet in your ear, and tears prick in your eyes as the pleasure, the sensitivity is so blinding you can’t keep them from your face. And you quietly cry and squirm but hold on tight, not tapping, not pinching. It’s torture but it feels terribly amazing in the best way, even if Caleb has to keep a firm hold so you don’t scramble from his grasp.

“Too much, I can’t, Caleb,” you sob, Caleb kisses the tears that fall down your cheeks so sweetly and proceeds to fuck you silly. Your heart is pounding, your whole body is a shaking over sensitive mess and the feeling is so intense your mind can barely formulate words. “I—please, fuck…” you babble, can’t string together full sentences and just whimper under him. Fuck if you’re never at someone’s mercy like this, you wonder if it’s better or worse that it’s Caleb.

“So damn cute,” he breathes out in broken fragments, breaths quickening as he thrusts deep, hard, accepts every whimper and plea that leaves your wet lips. “You can relax around me, trust me. Let me take care of you.”

“Ah…!” You wish you could respond, you really do, but the only thoughts you can formulate are pleads and Caleb, the endless pleasure bordering pain he pushes you through. He’s so sweet in your hair as his pace quickens and his breaths are shallow, ragged. His face is a damp mess and strings of hair cling to his forehead as he utters your name — your name, not ‘pipsqueak’, over and over. Whispers your name in your ears, mouths it on your temple, presses his lips against your neck as he sighs it. You melt and squeeze your teary eyes shut, clawing at Caleb and letting him pound you into oblivion. You feel fucking ruined and Caleb kisses your tears and pets your head all throughout it.

“Dammit, seriously, what am I gonna do with you…” He rasps, and you think your hazy mind can classify it as positive. His thrusts are quick and it’s not soon after that he’s suddenly groaning, hips going still as he holds deep inside you, trembling as he spills. Deep, warm. You quiver and finally find relief in his slowed thrusts, the way he holds himself with shaky breaths and bright red cheeks, sweat sliding down his temple. Slowly, he stills, panting, and when he’s nearly done shaking, he slowly pulls himself out. The feeling of both being empty and filled is filthy, but you haven’t the energy to burn on feeling embarrassed when you can barely form a sentence. You gasp, wipe at the tears that rolled down your face, and can’t keep the tiny quivers from racking through your body even after the high has passed.

“You okay, pipsqueak?” He whispers after, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. You nod, mute, and have to give yourself a bit to be able to respond in full. He seems to understand that much, and rolls to the side so he can gently hold you in his affection.

“That was…wow,” you murmur, and bury your head into his damp chest, the sent of oak and sweat. “Can’t move…” The thought of so much as standing seems impossible, your brain is in this weird, pleasant fog and you can barely focus.

“Did I go overboard?” His laugh is light and raw, lips settled on your forehead.

“It was a lot,” you answer, and your fingers trace over his bicep. Who knew fighter pilots had to be so toned? “It’s hard to think but…” you hum, and adjust your buzzing limbs so you’re a little more comfortable. “It was… good.”

“Good. Guess I’ll put that on the list of things you like,” you feel his lips curl against your forehead, probably grinning. You don’t even have the energy to glare.

“You have a list?”

“In my mind,” he says, and you decide to pull back from his chest a little, if only to see his expression.

Sweat-ridden but sparkling with an air of pleasant satisfaction. Eyes alight, cheeks warm. Since when was Caleb so damn beautiful?

“Next time…” You look up at him with heavy eyes. Feel almost drunk as your body sags and your speech comes out in quiet rasps, throat spent from all the cries you swallowed down. “It’s your turn,” you run your fingers across his lean chest, feel the way his muscles jump with laugher and his heart is starting to slow into a steady rhythm. He’s so irritatingly attractive.

You’re not used to feeling so utterly spent, helpless after. Your legs would collapse under you like a fawn learning to walk if you tried anything right now. You’d like to see Caleb come undone under your fingers, unable to keep himself from writhing while you tease him endlessly. In that way, you’re both similar, you suppose, and you can hardly blame Caleb for the way he gets off on you clawing at him.

“Can’t wait,” he says easily, almost makes you more mad at how easily he accepts your words. He strokes your cheek, wipes the remnants of tears, and holds you comfortably in his palm. “You look so good when you’re a mess.”

“Hush now,” you sigh, and turn your head to kiss his palm. He pads your lip so gently, traces shapes across them (you think one is a heart). It’s so silly but so him and he continually manages to make your heart fill.

“I’m scared I’ll wake up and this’ll all be a dream.” He pulls you to him, buries his nose in your hair and strokes your back like he hasn’t seen you in years and needs to confirm your existence. “It feels like a dream. You in my arms. Kissing me. Wanting me.” He draws back so he can tilt your head up and peer into your eyes. You think the sun is starting to rise, his eyes are as clear as ever yet clouded with contentment and apprehension. “You like me, don’t you?” His hands hold you so sweetly, his eyes are so raw. “Pretty sure I’ve loved you as long as I can remember.”

You blink, try to process his words in the fog of your mind and feel yourself run warm when you’re able to take his words piece by piece and understand them, digest them in full. The word ‘love’ tickles your ears, and you try not to let the tears flow again (who knew being so wrecked made you stupidly emotional) and nod quickly, covering the hand that holds your cheek.

“Of course I like you. I’ve trusted and cared about you as long as I can remember.” Your hand on his chest stills, presses so you can hear the drum of his heartbeat that’s now relatively fast. You can’t judge, when your heartbeats are so heavy you feel them in the back of your throat. “I’ll love you back, someday. The way you love me. I’ve loved you like my best friend, as a person, for the longest, though.”

“I’ve waited so long to hear that…” Caleb sighs, your eyes flicker to the chain around his neck, and you silently vow to yourself to sometimes let go of your stubborn streak, take care of Caleb the way he loves to take care of you. You hum and nuzzle into his chest, basking in how warm he feels, skin against skin, heating you, like a pleasant wood fire on a cozy winter night.

You sigh, can’t bite back a small smile, and let your eyelids flutter, your weak body sink into the mattress as Caleb’s slow breaths and caresses lull you, goad you to rest.

Caleb’s skin, heat, the love and affection you feel encased in each featherlight touch draws you in, comforts you enough to let your consciousness fade. Like a soothing lullaby.

It’s perfect, knowing you’ll wake up in his arms the next morning.

—

Sequel — Caleb Loves to Bully You in Bed

#love and deepspace #caleb #caleb x reader #caleb x mc #gender neutral reader #caleb love and deepspace #lads #lnds #love and deepspace smut #xia yizhou #xia yizhou x reader

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hiitsm · 6 months ago

Text

Bound by Trust: Navigating Turbulance Together

Part 2.

You hesitate to open up to your girlfriend about what's happening at home because you've been explicitly instructed not to share it with anyone.

Angst, Hurt, Undetailed physical abuse by a parent (reader's), lot's of Comfort & Fluff

Part 1

Kindness

"Y/n, how are you doing, dear? How's football practice?" Alexia's mother, Eli, inquires during dinner. You've always felt welcomed and loved by Alexia's family, especially by her mother.

"It's been going great. Coach wants me to play a bit more defensive midfield instead of attacking, so it's a bit of a change, but I think it'll go well," you reply with a warm smile directed at Eli.

"She's so good, mami," Alexia adds, beaming with pride.

"I'm glad, y/n. I bet you'll do great. Remind me of your next match, I'll try to come watch with Alexia," Eli says, her smile radiating warmth and genuine affection. A surge of love and appreciation swells in your chest at her words.

"Maybe we can also bring Alba, she would love to come along and watch," Alexia suggests with a cheeky grin, her tone tinged with sarcasm directed at her fifteen-year-old sister. Alba responds by throwing a piece of potato towards Alexia's head, eliciting laughter from you.

"You don’t have to come, Albs, you know that," you assure Alexia's sister, smiling warmly at her. You've always had a good bond with Alba. "How's high school been treating you anyway?" you inquire, turning your attention to the brunette teenager.

"Same old, same old. Another day, another tampon flushed through the toilet and the whole school ground is under water," Alba responds with a hint of dry humor, drawing another round of laughter from the table.

A little while later, as you help Eli with washing the dishes, she notices a bruise on your arm, a mark you hadn't even noticed yourself yet. "Did you have a rough football practice lately, dear?" she asks, nodding towards your arm. Panic flickers within you for a moment.

"Oh, uhm, yes, it was a bit rough. Lots of pushing and pulling, you know?" you reply, flashing her a small, apologetic smile.

"Please be careful at the next training," Eli says with genuine concern evident in her voice. "I will," you assure her, grateful for her caring nature and silently vowing to pay more attention to your bruises and how to cover them up.

After finishing the dishes, you and Alexia retreat to her room. Though not overly spacious, it feels perfect to you—a sanctuary of calm where you feel utterly safe. Alexia pulls you onto her bed, your bodies snug against each other, her arms wrapped tightly around you. You bury your head in the crook of her neck, reveling in the sense of security she provides.

As Alexia's hands trace gentle circles on your back, her touch soothes you, easing away the tension of the day. But then, her hand slips beneath your t-shirt, and she pauses, seeking your consent.

"This is okay for you?" she asks softly, her kindness and consideration never failing to touch your heart. The two of you had agreed to take the new intimacy slow, and her gentle approach reassures you that she respects that.

"Yes, amor," you assure her, momentarily forgetting the troubles of the morning in the comfort of her embrace.

Alexia's hand encounters a rough patch of skin, prompting her to sit up slightly to inspect it. "You have a scratch here, amor. Did you fall this morning or something? The cut on your eyebrow is a bit similar," she inquires with concern, her gentle touch soothing. She traces her finger along the scratch, her expression filled with genuine worry.

"Uhm, yes," you reply quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. Technically, you did fall.

"How did that happen?" she asks gently, her eyes filled with worry.

"The stairs," you admit quietly, the weight of your confession hanging heavy in the air. It's not completely a lie if your mother pushed you violently, causing you to fall from the stairs.

"Amor, are you feeling okay? You know I'm here for you, always, right?" Alexia asks gently, her concern evident in her voice.

"I know, mi vida, it's just that—" Your phone interrupts, your dad calling to ask where you are and if you can come home. With a heavy heart, you hang up and sigh. "I'm sorry, amor, I have to go," you apologize, feeling the weight of your unspoken burdens.

Alexia's expression shifts to one of concern and sadness as you prepare to leave abruptly. Determined to ease her worry, you muster a smile. "Is it okay for you to come pick me up tomorrow before uni?" you ask, already knowing her answer.

"What do you think I have my drivers license for, bebe?" she responds with a wide grin, her playful demeanor returning.

"Okay, come on, go home, so I can come pick you up tomorrow," she says, teasingly pushing you off her. You share laughs as Alexia walks you to the door.

You say your goodbyes and thank-yous to her mother and sister, then Alexia walks with you to the door. Before parting, you give her a gentle kiss and whisper, "Te amo mucho."

As you arrive home, the atmosphere feels tense and subdued. You find your mother on the couch and greet her with a soft, "Hi, Mom," hoping to ease the tension.

"You haven't talked about this morning to anyone at school, have you?" she asks, her tone carrying a raw undertone. You feel a pang of hurt and disappointment at her question. After the morning's events, where her anger over a jacket led to a violent outburst, it stings that this is the first thing she brings up.

"I haven't, Mom. I promise," you reply quietly, struggling to hide the turmoil brewing within you.

"Good. Nobody needs to know about it. You shouldn't have to talk to anyone about it," she responds curtly, and you nod in acquiescence.

Feeling exhausted and emotionally drained, you excuse yourself, citing early university classes in the morning as a reason to head to bed. Climbing upstairs, you notice your father has already retired to his bedroom. You wonder if he noticed what happened earlier, a tear slipping down your cheek at the thought.

As you lay in bed, your mind swirls with thoughts of Alexia and the comfort she provides. Unable to resist, you send her one more text, expressing how much you miss her already and how excited you are to see her tomorrow morning.

Your girlfriend shows up at your place earlier than expected, but in truth, you should have anticipated it. When you open the door, there she stands, a wide grin stretching from ear to ear. "The girlfriend pick-up service is here," she announces proudly, holding out a beautiful bouquet of your favorite hibiscus flowers.

"This is beautiful, amor. Thank you. Do we have a little time? I'll put them in a vase," you reply, excitement bubbling within you.

"Of course, amor. Let's go," Alexia responds eagerly as you both step inside your house. She's been here before, and though it's not quite the same as her mother's house, she understands that no other place can compare.

"Are your parents still asleep?" she asks, noticing the absence of anyone else in the living room.

"Yes, they both have the day off, I think," you explain as you carefully arrange the flowers in the nicest vase you own. Quietly, you lead Alexia to your bedroom, seeking her opinion on where to place them.

"Next to your bed looks nice," she suggests, and you follow her advice, positioning the bouquet in a prominent spot.

Satisfied, you both head downstairs quietly and make your way to Alexia's car, ready for whatever the day may bring.

"Dinner was fun yesterday," you remark to your girlfriend, reaching over to gently squeeze her hand, the one not occupied with steering the car.

"I had fun too. You're great with my family," Alexia responds warmly, returning the squeeze. The feeling of contentment and love washes over you both.

"Your cut above your eyebrow looks a bit healed. I'm glad," she adds, and you notice the relief in her posture as she speaks. Another wave of the urge to confide in her washes over you.

She deserves to know, right? What could your mother possibly do if she found out you had told someone? Hurt you even more? You're already hurting, so why not tell your girlfriend? Maybe she can help you. Maybe you can let her help you. You're caught in a conflict within yourself.

"...and I thought maybe when they're away for the weekend, you could come to my mother's house to spend the weekend together?" Alexia suddenly says, interrupting your thoughts. How long has she been talking to you?

"I'm sorry, do you mean that your mother and Alba are away, and I can come spend the weekend with you?" you ask, hoping you've understood correctly.

"Yes, mi amor, but it's totally fine if—" Alexia begins, but you interrupt her.

"I would love to, amor," you say, a smile tugging at your lips. Alexia grins in response, and for a moment, everything feels perfect.

For a moment, there's a comfortable silence between you, until you break it. "So, yesterday I told you my mother got upset, but it might have been more—" Your words are interrupted by the ringing of her car kit. It's Mapi.

"Alexia, can you please come pick me up? My alarm didn't go off, and I'll be screwed if you don't pick me up. Ingrid is already there" Mapi's panic voice crackles through the speaker.

You sigh quietly, feeling a pang of disappointment. Perhaps the universe is signaling that it's still not the right time to confide in your girlfriend.

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas fanfic #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #mapi leon #mapi leon x reader #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen

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treason-and-plot · 1 month ago

Text

“What?” says Roy. He shakes his head in an effort to wake up his brain, which seems to be suffering from momentary paralysis. He is on the one hand delighted that Michael is in deep shit, but he is also dismayed that Anya is so upset. It hurts his heart to hear her cry. But his dismay is exacerbated by the fact that she had such a strong reaction to the revelation- she’s acting as if her father had been caught having an affair. Which obviously isn’t the case.

“How did your mother find out?” he asks Anya, deciding to reserve sharing any of his personal thoughts about Michael’s indiscretions, at least for the moment. Anya puts the phone down to blow her nose. She takes a few deep breaths. When she speaks again her voice is a little less wobbly.

“The bank rang her about an unusual transaction on their joint credit card and she asked them to email her a statement. Dad looks after all the bills including the payment of their credit card and normally she never gets to see any bills or statements. The unusual transaction just turned out to be my sister borrowing the card to buy §300 worth of Simmora makeup, but Mum went through the rest of the transactions and she noticed that every week there was a charge of §200 billed to a company called-“

“Active Advisory Pty Ltd,” Roy’s brain whispers to itself.

“Active Advisory Pty Ltd,” Anya says. “Which sounds like a financial services company or something, right? Which Mum thought was really bizarre. So she did some investigating and found out it’s actually the company name of the owners of a strip club called The Pink Pony. So Mum confronted Dad about it and he admitted he’s been going there every week for the past year! And spending §200 on private sessions!”

“Well, shit,” says Roy. “That’s…that’s a lot of visits.”

“Mum’s devastated!” says Anya. “I am too! I can’t believe Dad would cheat on Mum like that! It’s just made me question everything I thought was real.”

“Technically, is it really cheating, though?” says Roy.

“How can you say that!” gasps Anya. “Of course it’s cheating!”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I’m just trying to wrap my head around everything,” says Roy quickly. “And hey, what about your sister stealing the card to spend §300 on makeup? That’s terrible!”

“Roy, I don’t think you understand. My parents are probably on the verge of divorce over this! My mother hasn’t stopped crying since my Dad confessed and she’s talking about going to stay with her sister in Barnacle Bay! The last thing they’re concerned about is Eva blowing money on make up!”

“Well, maybe they should be at least a little bit concerned,” says Roy. “Just saying. But, ah, okay, obviously the other stuff is a bit more concerning. Particularly the amount of money he’s been spending-“

“The money isn’t the issue here, Roy!” says Anya. “You just don’t seem to be getting it! My Dad has been visiting prostitutes! Sex workers! I can barely think of a worse betrayal! P….poor Mum….”

She starts sobbing again.

#Roy #Anya #back to Bridgeport #5 years later #sims 3 #sims 3 story

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urdreamgirls-dreamgirl · 2 years ago

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i hate accidents except when we went from friends to this.

kiss me once ‘cause you know i had a long night, kiss me twice ‘cause it’s gonna be all right, three times ‘cause i’ve waited my whole life

Steve’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He’s technically not supposed to have it on the floor, but it’s 9:30 on a Wednesday night and the store’s dead anyway.

Eddie 🎸👎: date’s a dud engage emergency protocol immediately 🚨🚨🚨

Steve rolls his eyes and clicks the little phone icon near Eddie’s name.

“Hello?” Eddie manages to sound both confused and concerned.

“Help, help,” Steve deadpans, leaning his elbows on the counter. “I’m having an emergency that only you can help me with.” Steve’s done this enough times in the three years they’ve lived together to know that Eddie can think up his own lie to tell his date.

“Oh my god, I’ll be right there, Steve.”

Steve’s not sure how Eddie manages to make it sound so convincing every time, but it’s enough that even Steve might start to believe it if he wasn’t the one calling.

Eddie hangs up without saying goodbye, probably to tell his date some exaggerated story about how Steve’s fallen in the shower or fell off a ladder. Somehow, all Eddie’s emergency scenarios involve Steve hurting himself in increasingly embarrassing ways.

By the time Steve’s got the store tidied and closed and walked the four blocks to their apartment, Robin and Eddie are already on the couch in the living room. Steve can hear them bickering over what to watch from the front hallway as he slips off his shoes and shrugs out of his jacket. He follows the sound of their voices to find them practically wrestling over the remote.

“Jesus, can’t leave you two alone for more than five minutes. You’re worse than the kids,” Steve says as he makes his way across the room and into the kitchen for a bag of chips. It wasn’t the healthiest dinner, but he was too exhausted to cook.

“There’s leftovers from the diner in the fridge,” Eddie calls out to him, not even missing a beat as he pries the remote from Robin’s white-knuckled grip.

“You took leftovers on a first date?” Robin asks him, appalled, as if it’s the most unheard of thing Eddie’s ever said.

Steve’s popping the styrofoam container into their tiny microwave as Eddie tells her, “It was a second date for your information.” He puts on an episode of Ghost Adventures without asking anyone’s input.

“Wow, someone made it past your rigorous first date interview? Shocker.” Robin crosses her arms and huffs in annoyance, because she was also going to put on Ghost Adventures but it’s the principle of the thing. You just don’t take a woman’s remote from her, under any circumstance.

“Hey, it’s imperative for me to suss out a potential partner’s commitment to the music gods,” Eddie says.

“‘Potential partners’?” Robin scoffs. “I thought you said you were in your slut era?”

“Well,” Eddie seems to lose his footing here. “I am. But I can’t be fucking anyone who listens to Tame Impala.”

“Steve listens to Tame Impala.”

Steve has made it back into the living room in time to see the blush rise on Eddie’s cheeks.

“Good thing I’m not fucking Steve then, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, good thing.” Even Steve can hear the eye roll in Robin’s voice.

Because the thing was…

Okay, so the thing is…

The long and short of it is that they’re not fucking.

But they’re also, like. Not not fucking.

It’s just that sometimes, after a horrible date or a stressful day or even just when they’re feeling incredibly horny, the apartment can feel kind of lonely, even with two roommates. So. They… do stuff. Together. No penetration, but. Yeah. Enough for it to be called ‘fucking,’ probably. At least Steve thinks so.

But they haven’t told Robin. They’re both pretty sure she suspects. She’s not a fucking idiot and Steve thinks someone living under the same roof as Steve and Eddie would have to be in order to be that oblivious. Steve’s pretty sure she’s been trying to get one or the other of them to confess, but they’ve held strong so far. It’s not that they were hiding it, exactly. It was just that, whenever this thing inevitably came to an end or imploded on them both, they didn’t want to have to explain it to anyone. At least that was what Steve was thinking, because it’s not like they actually talk about it.

Neither of them say anything else, so Steve makes an attempt to change the subject.

“So what did you tell your date this time?” He asks Eddie before shoveling a forkful of reheated pasta into his own mouth.

Eddie smirks. “I told him you cut off the tip of your finger with your crafting scissors while you were scrapbooking and then passed out from the sight of the blood and hit your head on the corner of the coffee table.”

Steve pauses with his fork halfway between the takeout container and his mouth.

“I thought these emergencies were supposed to be believable.”

“I’ve literally walked in on you scrapbooking multiple times, Stevie,” Eddie says it like he’s stating the obvious.

“I could never cut through my fingers with my crafting scissors.”

“Oh, that’s what you take issue with about that lame-ass scenario?” Robin scoffs again.

“There’s nothing wrong with scrapbooking,” Steve says defensively.

“Didn’t say there was,” Robin mutters, turning her attention back to the TV. “Can you guys shut up now? I’m trying to watch my stories.”

Steve rolls his eyes and shares a look with Eddie before doing as Robin says and shutting the fuck up. He drops down into the lone armchair to finish his leftover diner food, attention fixed on the television. He thinks he can feel it every time Eddie’s eyes dart over to look at him.

~*~

Later, after Eddie’s snuck into his bed around one a.m. and they’re laying there next to each other in the afterglow, Steve asks, “So the date really sucked?”

Eddie sighs. “I mean, he was nice and all, but there just wasn’t any, like… chemistry or whatever. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” Steve responds, his voice low. Steve hadn’t been on a date in months, hadn’t felt the usual impulse to flirt with strangers incessantly. Robin kept saying he was in a lull or a slump or something, but Steve does start to feel lonely sometimes, especially when Robin is out with her girlfriend and Eddie has a date and he’s left to his own devices in their shared apartment. Even though, more often than not lately, Eddie’s dates almost always end in “emergency protocol” and the two of them wind up tangled in Steve’s sheets. Steve can’t help but think that it’s only a matter of time before all of this comes to an end, before Eddie finds someone who’s perfect for him.

Someone who isn’t Steve.

~*~

Three days later, Steve and Eddie wake up to the blaring honk of Steve’s alarm, wrapped around each other. Steve can’t help but notice the way Eddie looks when he’s just woken up, soft and rumpled, hair a tangled mess on top of his head.

“Ugh, make it stop,” Eddie groans, scrubbing a hand down his face, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Steve slams his hand down on his alarm clock and flops back onto his pillows, even though he really should be getting up for work. He wraps a hand around the back of Eddie’s neck before dropping a kiss to his forehead and pulling him back to lie against his chest.

“Don’t wanna get up yet,” Steve mutters, eyes falling shut again. The blankets are warm and soft and the weight of Eddie on his chest is enough to have him drifting back into sleep.

Eddie doesn’t let him though. Instead, he plants his palm on Steve’s chest and pushes himself upright, making Steve groan in dissatisfaction.

“Gotta get up, dude,” Eddie tells him, yawning and climbing out from under the covers to pull on his discarded sleep pants. “Got, like, seven engines to fix today. Something about spring, man, everyone’s car starts to break down.” Eddie pulls his t-shirt over his head before opening Steve’s door and sticking his head out, making sure the coast is clear.

Eddie leaves the door slightly open and crosses back to Steve’s bed, planting a kiss on Steve’s cheek, like he just can’t help himself.

“Won’t get off until late and then I have a date, so keep your phone at the ready,” Eddie smiles when he says it and Steve wants to trace his dimples with his tongue.

“Coming home first?”

“Nah, just gonna shower at the gym next door,” Eddie stretches. “See ya later, Stevie.” And then he’s out the door and slipping quickly into his own room down the hall.

Steve doesn’t like the way Eddie’s bedroom door sounds as it clicks shut.

~*~

Steve has the early shift at the store, so when he gets home in the late afternoon with two bags of groceries, he’s got the apartment to himself. Robin’s spending her weekend off with Vickie and Eddie’s still at work before heading off to his date.

Steve puts his groceries away, makes himself an early dinner, and then positions himself in front of the TV. He puts his phone face up on the coffee table, so he’ll see it when Eddie texts him to get out of his date.

He gets lost in the Real Housewives of Wherever for hours before he remembers he’s supposed to be keeping an eye on his phone. He taps the screen and sees there are no notifications. That’s weird. It’s already well past nine; Eddie usually texts by now for a rescue.

Steve sits back on the couch, eyes on his phone where it sits on the coffee table in front of him. He watches it for a few long moments, willing it to ring.

It doesn’t.

~*~

Hours later, Steve wakes up to the front door slamming shut. His face feels plastered to the leather of their second-hand couch. He knows it’s Eddie coming through the door because he’s the only one of them that lets it slam when it closes.

Steve reaches for his phone, still on the coffee table where he’s left it. He taps the screen and sees that it’s already after two in the morning. Eddie comes into the living room and seems surprised to see him on the couch.

“You’re still up?” He asks, eyebrows pulling together.

“You didn’t call,” Steve tries to make it sound casual, but even he hears the accusation in his own voice.

“Uh yeah. No. He was, uh. Kinda cool, actually,” Eddie smiles to himself and it looks so soft and sweet in the dim light of TV. Steve feels his chest go hollow seeing it. He swallows.

“Well,” Steve clears his throat. “That’s great.”

“Wanna hang out?” Eddie asks. Steve’s not sure if he means hang out or hang out, but either way, Steve can’t bring himself to say yes.

“Nah.” He yawns. “Early shift tomorrow.” It’s a lie, but who can blame him?

Steve gets up off the couch and crosses the room before Eddie can say anything.

“Oh, sure,” Eddie mutters as Steve brushes past him on his way into the hallway. “Goodnight, Stevie.”

Steve feels his throat constrict, like he might cry if Eddie says anything else. He clears his throat again. “‘Night,” he returns, before he shuts his bedroom door behind him.

~*~

Steve stews in it for a couple of days. He’s annoyed and grumpy and even Robin starts avoiding him after he snaps at her one too many times for no reason. He’s avoiding Eddie, but he suspects that Eddie is also avoiding him.

Which is absurd. It’s not like Steve changed the rules. He’s not the one who changed their routine. Who went on a date with someone else and enjoyed it.

That thought gives Steve pause because that’s not what this is, is it? He’s aware that he’s not very good at keeping his emotions out of his sex life. He knows he gets too attached too soon. But Eddie is his friend. You’re supposed to have emotions for your friends. You’re supposed to hate everyone they date. You’re supposed to want to spend all your time with them. Right?

Fuck. Fuck. Steve is maybe out of his depth here.

By Tuesday night, he has no choice but to go to Robin.

“I fucked up,” he says without preamble, walking into her room without knocking and flopping face first onto her unmade bed. She just watches him from where she sits at her desk in front of her laptop. Eddie has a late night band practice after work, so they’ve got the place to themselves.

“Yeah, how?” She asks.

“I… am not sure. But I feel bad.” Steve is practically whining at this point.

“Can I tell you what I think without you getting mad at me?” Robin’s tone is cautious in a way that it hardly ever is with Steve.

“When do I ever get mad?” Steve scowls at her, the side of his face smooshed into her pillow so he can see her.

“Gee, I wonder.” Robin rolls her eyes. “You’ve been testy since Saturday, babe.”

Steve huffs but it’s not like he can deny it, exactly.

“Whatever, I’m in a bad mood,” he grumbles, picking at a thread on her comforter.

“Yeah, and why do you think that is?” Robin’s question sounds decidedly pointed.

“I dunno. Full moon or something. Something’s in retrograde, probably.”

Robin sighs. “Look, I’m going to say something to you and I want you to just listen and synthesize the information, okay? Just shut up.” Steve grunts and Robin clearly takes that for assent. “I think that you’re in love with Eddie.”

She says it so matter-of-factly that Steve sits straight up on her bed so he can look at her fully. His eyes dart to her open door. “What?” He practically spits out.

Robin rolls her eyes again. “Yeah, whatever. I know I’m not supposed to know about the… whatever you want to call it. But you guys aren’t exactly subtle. Or quiet.” Steve’s jaw falls open. “I know you’ve been fooling around for months. And you haven’t had to figure out your feelings for each other because you haven’t been dating at all and every date Eddie’s been on he’s sabotaged himself. And now he’s had a great date and you’re feeling threatened, obviously. You’re jealous, Steve.”

Steve just looks at her for a moment, before saying, “I actually hate you so much.” He looks back over toward her open door. “Did he say it was a great date?”

“Ugh, you’re pathetic.” Robin balls up a piece of paper and throws it at him, before turning serious. “Just tell him, Stevie. I’m pretty sure he’s into you just as much as you’re into him. You should see the way he stares at your ass when he thinks no one’s looking. It’s truly disgusting.”

Steve throws the ball of paper back at Robin, hitting her squarely in her forehead.

~*~

Steve locks himself in his room for the rest of the night, obsessing over what Robin has told him. He tosses and turns all night thinking about it. He’s vaguely aware of the door slamming as Eddie comes in from band practice around midnight and he thinks that maybe Eddie might linger just a little longer outside Steve’s door, but he doesn’t knock. Just pauses before he moves on to his own room.

Steve wakes up late the next morning. He has to rush through his morning routine and by the time he makes it to the kitchen for breakfast, both Robin and Eddie have left for the day. Luckily, Steve has a midday shift, so he has a bit of time before he has to leave for the store. He leans against the counter, spooning cereal into his mouth. As he places his dirty bowl and spoon in the sink to clean after work, his eyes get caught on the whiteboard they have hanging on the fridge.

Second date tonight, keep phone handy -E

Steve feels his heart start beating fast, almost erratically. His fingertips go numb. He licks his lips and leaves the kitchen, slipping on his shoes and jacket and leaving for work.

~*~

Steve comes home to an empty apartment. Robin has some study group and Eddie has his date. Steve can’t help but feel a little depressed as he walks through the door to nothing but quiet.

He makes himself dinner. He puts something on the television. He places his phone face-up on the coffee table, just in case.

It doesn’t light up with a notification until well after nine. It’s a phone call. From Eddie.

Steve fumbles his phone as he lunges to pick it up.

“Hey,” he says into his phone’s speaker. “Thought you had a date.”

“Yeah,” Steve can tell Eddie’s smiling, even though he can’t see him. “Was wondering if you had some kind of emergency to tell me about?”

“Um.” Steve is confused. This isn’t the normal script. He’s supposed to call Eddie. Not the other way around. “I don’t. Know? I mean. Yeah. I… need you?”

“On my way, Stevie.” And then he hangs up.

~*~

Steve’s paused the TV and is sitting on the living room couch in silence by the time he hears the door slam shut. He looks up as Eddie walks into the room.

“Hey,” Eddie greets him, voice low. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah, been… busy.” Steve inwardly cringes at how he sounds, knows it’s a lame excuse, because Eddie knows him. He knows why he hasn’t seen Steve.

“Right,” Eddie smirks. “So… can we talk?”

“Sure, whatever.” Steve tries to sound casual, thinks he misses it by about a mile.

Eddie sits in the armchair instead of next to Steve on the couch. Steve tries not to take it as an insult.

“I was on a really good date tonight, Stevie,” Eddie tells him, voice soft and slow, like he’s breaking bad news to Steve. Steve’s heart clenches in chest, hard and painful. He nods, eyes on everything but Eddie. “He was cool and funny and actually had good taste in music.” Steve’s not exactly sure he really needs to hear this. “But…”

Steve feels a small flutter of hope in the pit of his stomach. “But?” He prompts, still not looking at Eddie.

“But.” Steve can tell from his tone that Eddie’s smiling again, that same smile he’d heard on the phone. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About sitting here watching dumb reality shows with your arm around me. Waiting for your call even though I hadn’t texted you.”

Steve’s eyes snap to Eddie’s. He licks his lips. “What.” He doesn’t say it like a question.

“I wanted to be with you, Stevie. Always wanna be with you.” Eddie looks nervous now. He pulls at a rip in his jeans. “Do you… what do you think about that?”

“I, uh.” Steve’s mouth is suddenly dry, voice just a little hoarse. “I think it’s… good.”

“Good?” Eddie snorts. “You think it’s good? Gonna need a little more here, Steve.” Eddie still looks a little nervous, but his smile is starting to form again.

“Yeah, like. Really good.” Steve licks his lips again. “I always wanna be with you, too,” he adds softly.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, and he sounds vulnerable in a way that Steve’s never really heard before. He’s fully smiling again, small and soft, like maybe he can’t believe his luck.

Steve smiles back at him. “Yeah.”

And then they don’t say anything at all. Eddie crosses the small space between them and tackles Steve back against the couch. Their lips meet, soft at first. Then Steve let’s out a moan, opens his mouth under Eddie’s and the kisses turn decidedly less soft and more horny.

~*~

The next morning, Steve’s phone dings on his bedside table. He reaches over to read the screen.

Queen Robbie✨💕: love that u guys have figured ur shit out, but can we work out a system or something? i heard u [redacted] and then [redacted] and also [redacted]

Steve smiles before dropping his phone back on his bedside table and turning over in his bed. He pulls a sleeping Eddie into his arms and drops a tiny kiss to the back of Eddie’s neck. Eddie lets out a sleepy little moan. Steve could get used to waking up like this every morning.

———

An anonymous benefactor gifted me with lyrics from “Paper Rings” and here is what I’ve done with them.

Just two things: 1. I have never seen Ghost Adventures, but I imagine it would be one of the only shows both Robin and Eddie could agree on and 2. I have never listened to Tame Impala, I know nothing abt the music (beyond the fact that it’s just one guy??? see, I am hip and cool, gen z), so this is not intentional slander, I promise!!! It’s just the first thing I thought of.

Oh ETA: I also know nothing abt cars or what mechanics do, I assume they sometimes fix engines.

#steddie #MUTUALLY PINING FWBS IS MY NEW FAVORITE TROPE IM SO SERIOUS #idiots in love #steddie fic #steve harrington #idiots to lovers #eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steddie ficlet #steddie fic recs #taylor inspired steddie

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circeyoru · 8 months ago

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Unwanted Soul _ Part 7 = Requested

[Yandere!Alastor x Owner of his Soul!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 2.5 (ask) — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 (here)

It’s been around a few good months since the attack on the hotel, everything has been quiet around the hotel and you’ve been adapting well to the residents of the hotel. Since you were technically a staff member. Plus, since you’ve confessed to Alastor, things didn’t change much

Was what you wanted to say

You find yourself pulled out of your comfort zone when you’re set to have some form of duty. Then there was your little self-imposed obligation to go on dates with Alastor that suited him. While you were happy Alastor was enjoying your time, you can’t help but find yourself drained by the end of it

Not to mention Charlie’s insistent of your inclusion in her various activities. You really really preferred to be in the comforts of your room watching aime and reading manga or manhwa or whatever they are called

Still though, Alastor always knew when you were burn out from socializing and would put a stop to your suffering. Followed by a relaxing cuddling and anything you prefer. His attitude and behaviour towards you didn’t change all that much if you don’t count the increased intensity and the easiness of making him flustered

Because you and Alastor were a ‘confirmed item’, there were a lot of teasing from the hotel members to which Alastor prides himself on blocking off and you let him. Though there was an odd dynamic between Alastor and Lucifer

What you could describe as a parent or father judging his child’s lover type of deal. An example was you leaning against Alastor while on the lobby couch then Lucifer comes sitting next to you as well and moved you so that you were leaning on him. Or another where they were both preparing your meal and had a contest over, but because they took too long, you made your cup noodles

It was all weird and all, though nothing to stress over. You like staying at the hotel all the same, even though your friendship with them isn’t all that strong compared to what you share between Alastor or Lucifer

“You know, Pager, it got me thinking.” Lucifer started. It was a random quiet and slow day, as rare as it is, Alastor was out in Cannibal Town to gossip with Rosie. Of course he told everyone else he had important business to attend to.

“Yeah? You’re not thinking of making another library themed duck collection, right?” You gave him a suspicious gaze, looking up from your novel. “I’m not accepting those. I have like… a whole shelf of them back home.”

Lucifer awkwardly chuckled, “Okay, I mean, no! Of course not.”

You gave him a look of pure doubt. “If you gave me some and Alastor knew about it, you bet he’ll burn it.”

“Just gotta make them fireproof or something.” Lucifer whispered, but he shook his head and cleared his throat, sounding more professional. “Okay, this is serious! Very!”

Without warning, he suddenly dragged you into a portal of his own and you two arrived in a realm of his making. A realm where everything was golden. You hugged onto him tightly when you realized it was a gold sea below you two. Naturally, you yelled at him for doing this out of the blue

You had him held onto your while you wrote ‘wings’ on your page to form a pair of them behind your back to keep you afloat. You went back to yelling at Lucifer before he gestured to you, saying this was the point

Unable to comprehend, you said of course because you were no angel. Nor did you expect him to just drag you into another realm out of the blue

“What if you didn’t need to write on your pages to get things done?” Lucifer suggested, his wings flapping from time to time to remain in the air over the flowing golden liquid below you two.

“Then I can’t do anything. I’m nothing without my quill and pages or at least a surface to write on.” You answered, pointing to the wings that magically appeared from your words alone. “You know that.”

“I mean as in you don’t use them. Maybe start small, like don’t use your pages and only your quill to write.” Lucifer cryptically explained, you gave him a raised brow and he groaned, “Oh, come on! You watch your little shows, you know what I mean! Writing it in the air and poof!”

You laughed. Yes, you’ve seen these things happen in TV shows and anime, but you never got the chance or want to try it out. You see, you don’t exactly see yourself to have something so overpowered in your skillset or ability list

From what Alastor told, his immense power came from the evil deeds he has done in his years alive. His ticket to Hell had his name when he first killed. Then his power slowly built up from the serial killings he did. Adding to that, there was fraud, manipulation, and corruption. His twisted moral of how a hunter make good use of their prey was way too concerning for you

Cannibalism. He ate his victims as a method of exposing the bodies, well, only the ones he saw were healthy. But still. Then he told you like a storybook before bed how he dug up graves in the bayou where he dump the bodies or put it somewhere noticeable on purpose to catch the attention of the public

Afterwards? He speaks through the microphone in his booth while the radio all over his hometown state listens, he sympathized with the victim and their family and friends, he warned listeners to be careful, he wished the authorities to make quick work in finding and arresting the killer. All while a sick smile was on his face as he made those broadcast

It’s times when he tells you his cruelty that you’re reminded with who you rescued, sure Hell was a piece of work, but Alastor was another story. He’s something straight out of a serial killer movie, but in real life. You can’t question enough how Alastor fell for you and turned to a yandere type as well, but not like you’re regretting it now. He grew on you far too much

In contrast to Alastor’s build-up or something like a pre-register in Hell for power, you’ve done doing to that degree. You didn’t kill others, you aren’t even manipulative, and you definitely wasn’t brave enough to commit some other crimes. If anything, you were a victim

You already can’t understand why you had the power you do now. Alastor theorized before it was due to the fact you love books, but then the question changes to how your powers were this unique. Why were you any to summon and conjure items you understand?

Alastor can do something similar but it’s just that. Similar. He snaps his fingers and things just appear. There were limits, but something he can’t do was summon angelic steel or weapons like you can

Once you joked how you were actually destined to be in Heaven. That got Alastor into a frenzy. Immediately pinning you down and patting your back to see if there were wings

“A joke! It was just a joke!” You shouted at him, there was that crazed look in his eyes that sent a chill down his spine. Even though you have his soul and limited his powers, he was still the more powerful one between you two.

Alastor blinked and got off of you, his eyes narrowed as his smile shrank, “A poor joke, Darling. Even if you’re destined for Heaven and taken away from me… I will find you and drag you back down to Hell.”

You got Lucifer to bring you back to your room and leave thing as that. You don’t think you can do it, it was a pleasant thought, to be able to do that you’d be more powerful. Then again, you’re not seeking to be powerful. There was nothing for you to fight for. You had Alastor, that was enough

Not in Lucifer’s case though. He kept pestering you on learning, randomly bringing you to his golden realm that you got used to it and just prepared pages with the word ‘wings’ written on it. His persistence caught Alastor’s attention

At first, Alastor was annoyed that Lucifer was trying to spend time with you and to your delight chased Lucifer away, but after you told him what it was about, he was interested to see your power grow as well. Claiming that it was a great opportunity

Of course, he added that it wasn’t due to him doubting he can’t protect you in times of needs, but he didn’t want what happened on that roof to happen again

What if you didn’t have a surface to write on? What if you didn’t have your book with you? What if your pages were wet? What if your quill was taken away from you? What if you were put into a situation where you can’t rely on your pages and quill?

In that sense, Alastor was all for Lucifer’s idea. Since Lucifer was the one to see how your power developed, he was the better supervisor than Alastor. As much as your love hates to admit it. Though he wanted what’s best for you and he thinks you needed this now that you were staying at the hotel where sinners and demons can roam freely

“Fine…” You sighed, “I’ll try your little idea…”

“Yes! Come on! We’re starting training!!” Lucifer opened up the portal with his apple cane.

“Have a productive time, My Beloved!” Alastor hugged your good luck, kissing the top of your head, “I’ll have your favourites ready when you return.”

And so started with your little power upgrade project

Lucifer spared no expenses when it came to dragging you out of bed from your comfort activities to do more trial and error

It felt like the days when you were back in your living years, having to study and work. The twist was that you enjoy it since it was your first friend from Hell that got you to work. If anyone was in doubt about Lucifer being the King of Hell. He was a hellish tormentor for you

Turns out, that golden realm he has was all under his control and that golden sea could have been dry land. Oh you were so pissed when you learned that. Sure it helped with exercising your wings ability but he could have told you in the first place!

You’re very very tempted to just smack him in the head. But you told yourself not to give into temptation and just be good and get this over with. Lucifer is still the King of Hell and a powerful fallen angel that was leagues above you. You can never compare or try to win over

Alastor, the sweet thing, was always there for you when you needed some comfort or when you didn’t have motivation to continue

He provided you with so much that you thought back to your time alive

When you were down in the dumps and burn out, you longed for someone to be by your side to support you through thick and thin. You thought you had it, but it was a lie you told yourself. You thought that was happiness, it was nothing but a joke you drown yourself in

You truly enjoy your time with Alastor and all that he has given you, devoted to you. You can’t thank him enough

In the end, there was truth to Lucifer’s little theory. You started with plainly writing in the air with your quill, nothing happened naturally. Later on, you started to envision writing on something and it worked just a smidge. You soon learned to see the air as your surface, treat it like there was a hologram of a page there and write on it. Like all those sci-fi movies and TV shows you watched

Letters started to appear in a neon glow, coloured in your signature colour of your aura. In no time, the letters appeared more constant to your writing, then words formed. That was a big step, your next goal was to actually summon something

That took more time to perfect, but you got it since you were past the big goal of writing on nothing or air. The items you summoned grew in size and weight, then you barely managed to summon your angelic weapon. You fainted right after it appeared

You lacked stamina and energy to maintain it after using so much to summon it into existence. A short break was taken before you pushed yourself to continue. Lucifer and Alastor both supported you while reminding you that there was no pressure

No pressure. They actually mean it. It wasn’t a tactic to guilt-trip you into working harder. Figures appeared in your mind but you shook it away. No, you’re doing this because Alastor and Lucifer believes you can do it. You’re doing it not because you were forced. You want to do it

It was when you finally managed to summon an angelic weapon and maintain it for a good while that Lucifer deemed your powers successfully upgraded. Him having to act like a system congratulating your work, it left Alastor confused, but he too praised you for your achievement without giving up

Next step was to not use your quill to write, you already had an idea to use your fingers like a particular anime’s protagonist from long long ago. Maybe you should rewatch it for some more ideas. But there was something else that you never got around to ask

“Oh yeah, why is it that you keep bringing me to this goldy realm of yours?” You poofed away some random objects you summoned with a wave, “Can’t we just do all this in the hotel? It’s big enough for it and we didn’t actually use much space anyways.”

Lucifer groaned, “Oh, no. No~ No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Thats, uh hah, no. Bad idea.”

Your head tilted, “Bad idea? That’s the hotel you rebuilt with the others, right?”

Lucifer would be banging his head from that movement, sadly and unfortunately for him, there was no wall in sight in this weird golden realm. “Yes, but now Charlie let Vox’s people install these screens all over the place and… Arghhh… I had to destroy the TV in my room cause of all the heebie-jeebies I got from it.”

“What?”

“Yeah, it was like the day before I asked you if you thought of that power upgrade thing.”

No wonder Alastor was more pushy about you staying in your shared room or his radio tower recently. Never letting you away from those areas. Now you understand what it was about. You did wonder why Alastor didn’t tell you, but then you recalled how it was you that have been stressing about the deal with Lucifer and your power, so there was never a chance for him to tell you that

And naturally the other hotel members would assume Alastor told you so they never approached you. Ohhh… You feel like a jerk now

You quickly made your way down to the lobby, easily finding everyone you needed

“Charlie!”

“Oh! You want to join our activity? We’re gonna do some online competition with this new—”

“No, Charlie, why did you accept VoxTech’s stuff?” You questioned immediately, stepping between the group and the large screen.

“Vox was sponsoring us! He gave us so much help! He even had his employees install everything around the hotel.” Charlie praised, though you noticed how her eyes stayed glued to what was behind her. The others all nodded in agreement, seemingly in a trance.

Your eyebrows furrowed, you looked behind you, just a peek was enough to see that Vox had been hypnotizing them to say good things about him. You glared at the screen, showing Vox and his hypnotic eye. This doesn’t work on you. “Alastor!”

“Darling!” Alastor appeared through the shadows, immediately turning you away from the screen as his hands held your face so that you stare at him, “Did he do anything to you?”

“It’s okay, hypnosis has no effect on me.” You spoke through squished cheeks, you squeeked when Alastor stole a peck before releasing you. You blush, never will you get used to this, you peeked around your lover, seeing the group recover. “Alastor, destroy all VoxTech products in this hotel. No matter how big or small.”

Alastor’s grin grew, “With pleasure.”

You wrote ‘recovery’ on your pages and restored the gang back to conscious minds. You would try your newest technique, but this was more concerning since it was on someone other than you

When the group snapped back to their senses, Charlie and Vaggie shouted at you for what you told Alastor to do. You argued back that they weren’t even aware that they were mind controlled by Vox, it was a matter of time before they were mere puppets. You pointed over to Angel who’s boss, Valentino was Vox’s partner, and Angel backed you up easily

Lucifer offered his thoughts on the matter as well, claiming that’s why he doesn’t watch TV that often. He didn’t want to say anything because the hotel was Charlie’s and it was her decision on what she does with it

You went on to warning them how controlling and unseemingly evil Vox could get, he truly is manipulative with that perfect CEO outlook he gave everyone around him. When things don’t go his way, he was sure to retaliate like a baby throwing a tantrum. You relate with Alastor on how you two view Vox. Truly, you wonder why he was accepted as an Overlord with that personality of his

From this the group honestly saw how you were once an informant for Lucifer. You speak your mind, acting swiftly and precisely. Your knowledge on other demons, Overlords even, was a deadly weapon at your disposal. Your secretive nature made things more complicated since you wouldn’t be one to share unless necessary

Alastor praised and sang you words of flattery at your action, even though he was the one that did all the work. You merely had to drag him to your level and kiss him to shut him up, then you two went back to your shared room to cuddle while having your movie night

Charlie and Vaggie cut all contacts with Vox and his company, warning him to stay away from the hotel if and when he has ill-intention to associate with it

“F**k!” Vox slammed his fist onto the table, his screen face glitched with error messages as his rage continued to raise. All his cameras and speakers in the Hazbin Hotel was gone, the connection wasn’t merely lost, it was completely gone.

He didn’t expect someone with authority to make Alastor destroy them all. He thought the bleeding princess will keep him at bay, and he was so close to finding out about that figure on the roof that day. Someone that protected Alastor and removed all the eyes he had to watch that battle.

“Pages…” Vox mumbled, he tugged on a chain that suddenly appeared. A contract chain. “You better stop meddling in my plans!”

“It wasn’t me! I swear!” The pulled in figure cried, her long hair covering her crying face, “I’ve been here all this time! How can I do anything!?”

Vox glared, pulling on the chain until it was choking her, “Well, it’s not everyday you see a sinner with the power to command pages to do their bidding, right? Who else if not for you? Huh?”

The female demon cried and sobbed more, “It wasn’t me, it really wasn’t… Don’t punish me…”

Vox eyed his giant tank with aquatic creatures, his grin grew, “Yeah, I think you need some reminding.” He told his little weak contracted soul to his eye level, “Who it is that owns you, you don’t get to decide. Copy-Kat.”

Note: Hi hi everyone!! This is back from a bit of a pause (as you can tell, I've been working on another series). Though this part might not be as good as you'd like. But necessary for the future parts. Haha~

The requests sent a long time ago on the Reader's/your past acquaintances and interaction with Vox will be added to the parts after this! Or treated as trivia when direct contact is made!

Give this series a warm welcome back~

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (those that don't specify to being in all the works' taglist will automatically be assumed to be in whichever series they comment on)

@aconfusedwonderland @crowleysthings @donustellaron @mistpurpl3 @lucifers-silhouette @fluffy-koalala @nevermore-ramblings @justboredforreal @youroneandonlysimp @falsemain @scenteddelusion5 @anni1600 @readergirlstuff @salutations-demonsanddappers @mistpurpl3 @haruskrd @biadoll21 @speedycoffeedelight @wendds @paninibit @emperatris-rinaka @lucifers-silhouette @an-idyllic-novelist

#Circe's Nighty Writings #Circe's requested writings #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel oneshots #yandere alastor #yandere alastor x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagines #Unwanted Soul

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lovelyjuju · 8 days ago

Text

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐤 [𝟐] - 𝐛𝐲𝐮𝐧 𝐞𝐮𝐢𝐣𝐨𝐨

bf!euijoo x fem!reader

genre: love at first sight – college au!, fluff

warnings: cheeeesy, nicknames (love)

word count: ~2k

finally, part 2 of starstruck that was requested here, i hope you enjoy!! 🤍

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

the hallway was buzzing as students darted in and out of rooms, but euijoo didn’t seem to notice any of it. standing outside your exam hall, he held your hand a little tighter, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

“so, i’ll see you later?” he asked, his voice barely audible over the chatter around you. "you're going to do great, okay? don't worry about it," he reassured you.

you replied with a nod and a soft smile, glancing down for a moment and feeling a warm blush creep up your face.

he leaned in and brushed a kiss against your cheek, lingering just long enough for it to feel like more than a friendly goodbye. when he pulled back, his smile was bashful, like he wasn’t quite sure he should have done it but also couldn’t stop himself.

as you slipped into class after wishing him good luck for his own exam, you didn’t notice the figure standing just down the hall, arms crossed, an amused grin spreading on his face.

nicholas waited until you disappeared, then strolled over, nudging euijoo's shoudler playfully.

“alright, alright, hold up,” he began, his voice light but full of accusation. “so, we’re just kissing in the middle of campus now? since when have we moved on from hopelessly staring in the library every tuesday at 3 p.m.?”

euijoo startled, running a hand through his hair, but his guilty smile betrayed him. “it's not like that, it’s… new. i was going to tell you.”

nicholas shot him a playful glare. “new? you’ve been obsessing about her for an entire semester, and i had to watch you agonize over every tiny interaction. i mean, seriously, torture. i was the one who pushed you to make a move and now you’re dating her, and i don’t even get an update?”

euijoo chuckled, trying to defend himself. “well, technically, we’re not… dating. i mean, we like each other, but we haven’t really talked about being official or anything.”

nicholas shot euijoo a look of exasperation and let out an exaggerated sigh. "seriously, juju, do you need step by step instructions? you've confessed – you've done the hardest part. don't you think it's time for an actual relationship talk?"

euijoo blinked at nicholas, his expression blank as if letting what he'd just said sink in. then, he nodded slowly, "i think you're right."

“i always am,” nicholas said, smirking. “how about a date with candlelight or stargazing or whatever else that daydream-y head of yours can come up with? come on, make it official.”

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

the day you finally finished your last exam, you went home, took a quick shower and stood in front of your wardrobe for what felt like an eternity to think about what to wear.

euijoo had told you to go for something you felt comfortable in, but he'd seemed so nervous about asking you out that you couldn't help but think he might have planned something special. it would be special either way; you felt like with euijoo, everything would be special.

after you'd decided to go for a pair of comfortable jeans and your favorite top, you got your hair and make up done just in time for euijoo's text.

"i'll leave now, i'll be there in five"

you replied with a quick 'okay', told him you were looking forward to it, and grabbed your bag and keys, deciding to wait for him in front of your door.

when he pulled up, you couldn't help but smile, feeling anticipation and excitement bubbling up in your stomach as he opened the car door and stepped out a second later with a bouquet of your favorite flowers in one hand.

you quickly rushed over to him, letting him pull you into a careful hug and immediately felt a warm feeling spreading across your chest.

"hey," you greeted him after pulling back.

"hey," he replied gently, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he handed you the bouquet almost a little hesitantly as if he was too shy to do it.

"these are for you," he explained the obvious, " i don't know if you like them, but i thought they were pretty and you have some clothes and accessories in that color, so i was hoping you'd like them, but if not then–"

you pulled him down by the collar of his shirt to press a soft kiss onto his lips, interrupting his rambling. euijoo's eyes widened in surprise, but he reciprocated the kiss almost immediately, his cheeks slightly blushed when you pulled back.

"actually, these are my favorite," you said with a bright smile. "thank you, euijoo, they're beautiful."

not as much as you, he thought, but the words got stuck in his throat.

you quickly rushed inside, placing them in a vase to make sure they wouldn't dry out during whatever plans he'd made, and sat in the passenger seat of his car once you were done.

the drive was filled with silence, only the quiet sounds of the radio playing and the traffic, but it didn't feel awkward. euijoo's hand was wrapped around yours, resting on your thigh, and he only let go when he had to shift.

when he parked in front of an apartment complex, you glanced over to him. he stopped the engine and turned to look at you.

"i know it's not special, but i wanted today to be more personal and less... public?" he asked rather than explained.

your lips curled up into a small smile and euijoo could practically feel a weight lift off his shoulders.

"everything is special with you," you replied, barely louder than a whisper, causing euijoo to smile a little more brightly and to look down for a second like he always did when he got flustered.

after he’d opened the passenger door and led the way to his apartment, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back, he opened the door and stepped inside after you.

the moment you entered, a delicious scent filled the air, tickling your senses. before you could ask, euijoo spoke up. "i’ll show you around first," he said, and you nodded in agreement.

after a quick tour of his small apartment, he took your hand and guided you to the last stop: the cozy kitchen. the aroma was even stronger here, and as you looked around, you spotted a few pots simmering on the stove.

"like i said, i wanted today to be a bit more personal," he said, bringing his hand up to scratch the back of his neck sheepishly, "i hope it's edible."

you chuckled softly. "if it tastes half as good as it smells, you’re doomed to cook for us for the rest of your life," you teased, standing on your toes to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

euijoo motioned for you to sit at the small kitchen table, lighting a candle in the center before filling two plates with food.

you shared the meal, you going on about his impressive cooking skills, and him quietly admiring how beautiful you looked in the warm candlelight.

after you’d finished, he reached for your hand resting on the table, brushing his thumb softly over your knuckles. for a moment, you simply looked at each other, the flickering light casting shifting shadows across your faces, and you felt your heartbeat quicken just from watching him.

"come with me for a second," euijoo said softly, letting go of your hand only to stand up and offer you his hand again. you stood up, took his hand, and followed him to the living room, where he opened the glass door that lead to his balcony.

the two of you slipped outside, the night air brushing against your face as you moved closer to the railing, gazing down at the illuminated city below.

euijoo stood behind you, carefully wrapping his arms around you and placing his hands over yours on the railing. he rested his chin on your head, his warmth enveloping you as you both stood in comfortable silence for a while.

"y/n," his soft voice broke the quiet after a bit.

"hmm?" you replied, slipping your hands out from under his and turning to face him. you were close enough to feel his warm breath mixing with the cooler night breeze.

euijoo closed his eyes briefly, exhaling before meeting your gaze again. "do you remember how we confessed on that balcony at the party?"

you giggled softly and nodded, "of course i remember." you could feel your heartbeat pick up, but you tried to keep cool, not letting it show.

"i thought… maybe it’d be nice to, you know," he hesitated, "make things official?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically careful, as if he was afraid to ask.

you furrowed your brows slightly. "you mean–"

"yes," euijoo interrupted. "will you be my girlfriend?"

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

a few days later, you found yourself at euijoo's place again, helping him to arrange some snacks while waiting for his best friend nicholas. you hadn't properly met him yet, and euijoo wanted to introduce you two to each other, so he invited you both over for a cozy get-together.

when the doorbell rang a few minutes later, euijoo answered, soon returning with nicholas. you offered a smile, which he returned as you introduced yourselves.

“i can’t believe my best friend finally gets to be with the girl he’s been obsessed with for a whole semester,” nicholas announced as soon as you’d all settled on the sofa.

you and euijoo both blinked in surprise, and while you asked a surprised “huh?” euijoo let out a mortified “nicholas!”

“wait– a whole semester?” you asked, looking back and forth between them.

“actually a bit longer–” nicholas began.

"nicholas." euijoo interrupted, eyes stern but cheeks too pink to look actually annoyed.

“euijoo, that’s sweet,” you said with a pout, your stomach bubbling with butterflies at the thought of him liking you that long. but you paused, furrowing your brows in confusion. “wait, we only met at the start of the semester?”

before euijoo could reply, nicholas blurted out: "trust me, he was gone from the first time he saw you in the hallway," a grin on his face.

euijoo just sighed, running his hand over his face in frustration. "you're embarassing me, nicholas, stop it."

nicholas turned to euijoo and stuck his tongue out childishly, "i'll tell her about all the times you stopped and stared when she walked by!"

"i did not stare," euijoo protested, his cheeks only deepening in color.

you hid a smile, looking at euijoo, feeling warmth blossom inside. he’d liked you for so long, never giving up, yet never making you uncomfortable with it. and now here you were, with him as your boyfriend – something you couldn’t have wished for more, as everything he did for you came so naturally to him.

"i had no idea..." you said softly, leaning your head against euijoo's shoulder and feeling his warmth welcoming you as always.

when nicholas left a few hours later, the two of you stayed cuddled up in comfortable silence. eventually, euijoo’s fingers stroked through your hair, drawing your gaze up to him.

"sorry for... that," he said, cheeks faintly pink. "i didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable, please don't think i'm some creep who–"

"euijoo. love," you interrupted gently, his eyes widening in surprise at the nickname, "it's sweet. i didn't know, but i'm glad you didn't give up on me, even when i was busy being clueless," you chuckled.

a soft smile curved euijoo’s lips as his fingers continued their gentle path through your hair. “well, i tried… didn’t work,” he chuckled.

you smiled back, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, and he looked at you, eyes bright, revealing all the love he was still finding the words to express.

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solarnomoon · 1 year ago

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get a guitar - lee heeseung

your boyfriend every third thursday/best friend not boyfriend/(not-so) secret crush, heeseung, gets a little too tipsy for you.

pairing >>> heeseung x male reader

tags >>> college au, alcohol consumption, confessing feelings???, misunderstanding, slight angst, fluff, comfort, (not super) drunk hee, suggestive content

author's note >>> i have a few things to say. first, this was inspired by drunk heeseung hello he's adorable ･ﾟ･(｡>ω<｡)･ﾟ･ and second, i rly liked riize's debut song! and ik, it's supposed to be fun and innocent, but it's fun to think there's more to it!

the rattling of your bedside table was not uncommon for you to be awakened by, but was what uncommon was the fact that as you open your eyes to silence your phone from the blasting alarm, there was no light that peered through the curtains, causing you to groan at being woken up so early.

you reach for your phone and see who dared to wake you from your slumber, and after your eyes adjusted to the bright light, you immediately pick up seeing sunghoon’s name. you figured it was important as sunghoon has never once called you, the reason being as he hates calling and only texts, dms, hell, even replies on twitter.

“hello?”

“h-hey y/n!” the voice that rang through was not sunghoon, now keeping in mind that technically, sunghoon had still never rung you. “what’s going oonnn!”

it’s not like you didn’t recognize the voice though, “sunoo? not much, but it’s fucking… 1:30 in the morning, what’s up?” you slowly sit up, rubbing your eyes after flipping the on switch for your ambient lamp next to you.

“heyy, so, basically we all went out as you know, and oh em gee, you have to look at the pictures we took, they are SO funny…” you hear someone else’s voice in the background to tell him to focus, whom you can only assume is jay. “sorrryyy, anyway we called because your little lover boy over here is like, a little like, too fucked up.”

“heeseung? and he’s not my lover boy.”

“notice how i didn’t say a name~” the guy over the phone just giggles, you letting out a sigh after hearing that heeseung might’ve gotten himself in trouble. “anyway, his roommate has his fuckbuddy over, probably getting her pregnant. he’s so fucking irresponsible with condoms, agh, i hate him!” the sudden outburst from sunoo makes you snort, the love-hate relationship they have is probably one of the most entertaining things you’ve seen in a while.

“it’s okay, sun, tell me how much you hate ‘lix later.”

an audible gasp is heard through the phone, with sunoo adding, “ugh, i hate that you’re friends with that stupid australian!”

“felix is not a bad guy, sunoo, and you know this too.” you take this opportunity to tease him back, “plus, you’re just jealous that he’s not fucking you instead, don’t lie.”

“not the point y/n. the real point is, can seung stay at yours? i know your roommate is out for the weekend, and none of us have space for him.” he pauses for a few seconds, then jay tells him to ‘tell y/n the other thing!’ sunoo lets out a noise of agreement, then continues. “he also has been asking about you all night. like, i mean literally talking about you every moment of his life. so i think it’s time to just give him what he wants…”

“he’s been asking about me?”

“uhh, when is he not? seriously, when are you guys gonna get together?”

“you know he doesn’t like me like th-“

this time, sunoo lets out a sigh, interrupting your sentence. “i don’t wanna get into this with you, we’re coming to your dorm.”

“but i didn’t say you c-“ and with that, your dorm room opens wide open, with heeseung holding on to jay’s shoulder to keep himself up. “-ould come."

after jay puts him down onto your chair, sunoo and jungwon walk in the room as well, with jungwon giving you a wave while sunoo gives you a hug. "he's your responsibility now, y/n. we couldn't get him to go anywhere else to be honest..." jay admits, his hand reaching to the back of his neck.

"it's... fine, just go have fun and enjoy the rest of your night. i can take care of heeseung." at the sound of his name, the guy looks over to you, mouth forming a wide smile when he recognizes your face.

"hey you, just the man i was looking for!" heeseung stands up from the chair and practically jumps into your bed with you, hugging you by the waist while his lower body stays on the floor. you nod to the other three, signalling them to leave, with jungwon and jay giving you a sheepish smile. sunoo on the other hand just wiggles his eyebrows and does the "salt shaking" motion, then leaves with them, shutting the door behind him.

you place your hands on heeseung's head and angle his face as to look at him, immediately feeling the warmth of his cheeks. as he looks up at you, you notice that he has a natural red glow, presumably from the alcohol he had consumed. "jeez, how much have you drank?"

he puts his fingers into a pinch, "a little bit." he removes his other hand from your waist to match the pinch, "just a little, a little." he puts his hand into a motion as if he's drinking a cup, signaling to you that he drank (as if you didn't already know that...) "actually, i drank a little."

"yeah, heard you the first... and second... and third time, heeseung. do you want some water?" you lean over to your bedside table to grab your water bottle, but when you try to hand it to him, he pushes it away. "you don't want?"

"i only want it if you drink it first!" he grins at you, confidence filling his voice all of a sudden.

"dude, how can you drink it if i drink it?"

"easy, you just pour it from your mouth into mine."

"what are you fucking talking about?"

heeseung gets up from the floor and sits next to you, leaning over to have his head on your lap. "it would be really easy like this, you just pour it into your mouth and then drip it into mine..." he wraps his arms around your waist again, putting his face into your shirt. "or, you could just kiss me with the water in your mouth."

you thought you heard him wrong, with the fact that he muttered his last sentence into your shirt, but after asking him to repeat it, you realize that what you heard was what he said. "...heeseung, i thi-" a muffled whine interrupts your sentence, and for a second, your heart squeezes, nervous that whine was one out of pain (definitely not because you liked the way it sounded coming from him). "heeseung?"

another whine erupts from his mouth, but before you could ask again, he answers, "stop calling me that, y/n."

"dude, you know that's your name, right?"

the movement was so quick that you didn't even know his drunk self could manage it, but in the blink of an eye, the positions had changed to where you were sitting in his lap, his arms wrapped around your waist still, but his face laying on your back. "but that's not what you call me."

"what are you talking about, seungie?" and with that, you could literally feel the muscles on his face form a slight smile, his face pressing harder into your back. after that, he removed it, putting his lips oddly close to your neck.

"that's my boy, much better..." his lips graze the bottom of your ear, before moving to the side of your neck, planting a small kiss. "so much better."

the minute you felt his lips on your skin, your instinct was to push away, your pulse quickening, and the area on the back of your neck tingling like sparks. "hey, don't fucking do that!" you looked back to scold him, but the tiny pout on his face made you soften up. "just... you can't do that kind of shit... not when..." i'm practically in love with you, you had wanted to say, and although heeseung was drunk, you couldn't take that chance of him remembering in the morning and prematurely ruining the friendship.

you knew it was bound to happen. it was only a matter of time before he found out himself or your feelings had grown immense amounts to the point where you couldn't take it anymore. either way was a lose-lose situation, but even knowing this, you couldn't lose heeseung as a friend, or a sort of fake lover the way he had treated you.

in fact, it was how he had treated you that made this impossible. he clung to you like a fucking leech. you and him were rarely seen without the other, and everyone around knew that if you invited one, you had to invite the other.

he'd play stupid horror games on roblox late at night with you, running halfway across campus the minute you said you were too scared to continue, and he'd hold you in his arms as you slept until dawn.

he'd invite you to his dorm and watch rom-coms with all of your favorite snacks, ramen that he had cooked for both of you guys, and heated blankets, massaging your back as you watched together while you laughed at the stupid jokes, periodically asking you if those pick-ups lines would work if someone used them on you.

he'd pick you up to go to a fancy dinner date, paying for your entire meal, then afterwards, bring you on a drive to the scenic areas and talk deep conversations with you as you guys admitted shit you never had before, discussing innate and learned fears, future plans, and why the earth revolved around the sun.

if you guys were dating, heeseung would be the absolute perfect boyfriend. he brought you to theme parks, county fairs, arcades, family meetups, holidays, pretty much everywhere. you couldn't imagine life without him, he was a staple to your life, and everyone knew you guys were practically inseparable.

but you and heeseung weren't dating. you had done all of these things in the past few months out of pure best-friendcy. and yet, you didn't want to lose this intimacy with him.

"not when you what, y/n?" heeseung leans to the side so you could see his face, curiosity floating in his eyes as he gazes at you.

"...not when you're drunk, heeseung."

"i'm not fucking drunk. and didn't i tell you to stop calling me that? it doesn't sound right coming out of your mouth." heeseung strengthens his grip around you, pulling you closer into him, as if he let go, you would fall out of his life for good.

"heeseung, you have to let go, you drank too much and you don't know what you're doing," before you could even realize it, your voice had started raising in volume and desperation little by little, "and it's like this isn't normal best friend behavior and i feel like i'm trapped in this fucking bubble of keeping to myself because i don't want to ruin us but i can't just leave you because you're so fucking important to me and i just!" you hold your breath, not knowing what to say next. "i just think it's unfair..."

you didn't even realize you were crying until heeseung was wiping the tears away with his hands, leaving small kisses on the top of your head. "hey, hey, baby..." heeseung whispered, making you even angrier. you turn around in his lap, hitting his chest.

"heeseung! don't even fucking call me that right now! that's part of the problem, you don't call your best friend that! stop fucking playing with my feelings!" you then grab his shirt and cry into it, muttering the last part, "if you wanna play with something, play with that stupid fucking guitar you have, not me..."

he chuckles softly at your sentence, but before you scold him for laughing at a time like this, he gently presses his lips against yours, encapsulating you into a slow, loving kiss. instead of fighting back, you lean into him, allowing yourself to be taken by his soft lips, kissing back with just as gentle of pressure, not wanting to be overwhelmed by a feeling you have dreamed of since you met the man.

as he pulls away, he wipes the tears stained on your cheek with his thumb lovingly, leaving his hands on your face. "you've been wanting to say all of that for a while huh? i feel like that outburst has been building up overtime." you just nod, not knowing what to say. "y/n, i swear to god, we've been dating. maybe not officially boyfriends, but dating." the confusion on your face must've been extremely evident, because he squishing his eyebrows together in retaliation. "you... you know i'm like... in love with you right...? right?"

"huh?" you sniffle, the tears stopping from the perplexed feeling overtaking your sadness. "you've never asked me out!"

"yes, i did! remember, at the park, when we had a picnic and i brought strawberry soju and the whole charcuterie board. i asked you that day, i remember what i said because i wrote it down. i said 'y/n, can we take this to the next step?' and you were like, 'yes!' so i thought you knew!"

oh.

you have never felt so fucking stupid in your life.

"that's what you meant?! i thought you meant to the next step of the stairs we were on!"

heeseung just looks at you blankly, mouth ajar. after a few moments, he just laughs, the sound so loud it reverberates through the room and even rumbles the bed. "n-no fucking way! is that why you randomly picked up the fucking blanket and moved it up to the actual next step?!"

"'cause that's what i thought you meant!" you exclaimed, the anchor in your heart that you didn't even know existed being relieved the more heeseung talked.

heeseung embraces you, placing another kiss onto your lips for a second, then just hovers in front of them, looking into your eyes. "then let me make it explicitly clear. y/n, i'm so fucking in love with you. please let me be your boyfriend."

you respond to him with a kiss of your own, allowing yourself to be overtaken with the absolute relief from the dredge that had been weighing you down on your guys' relationship for weeks upon weeks now. "yes, heeseung. i'd love for you to be my boyfriend."

he just smirks, hands moving from your face down to the hem of your shirt, wanting for you to take it off, which you gladly comply with. "fucking good. been wanting to kiss you, strip you, make you mine for weeks now, but you never reciprocated, so i just thought you weren't ready..." he takes your shorts off with efficiency, not wanting to waste any time with you.

"oh yeah? aren't you still drunk, heeseung?"

"was never that drunk to begin with, just wanted to get that water thing to work, but this..." placing his hands on your thighs, he spreads your legs and pulls you closer, "this is so much fucking better."

#enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen angst #enhypen x male reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen heeseung #heeseung #heeseung x reader #heeseung x male reader #male reader #solarnomoon

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woso-fan13 · 1 year ago

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Sicktember 2023: 30 (uswnt)

Patient 0

It wasn’t your fault. Technically, you are the only person that the blame falls to, but you didn’t mean for everything to happen. You had felt fine when you had left for camp and when you arrived. You didn’t start feeling sick until dinner on the first full day, but you blamed the headache on the lack of water that you had consumed that day.

Waking up the next morning, you knew that this wasn’t caused by a little dehydration. This was, without a doubt, a nasty bug.

You were determined to keep this to yourself in all ways possible. You didn’t want your teammates to know that you were sick, but you also didn’t want to get them sick. The best way to accomplish both of these things is to hide from everyone as much as you can.

You had some pretty good excuses over the next day, insisting that you needed to complete a lengthy assignment for school and spending a lot of time in your room. You also claimed that you wanted a little extra practice time, allowing you to get out of the locker room before everyone else arrived and stay on the field until you were sure everyone had changed. It was draining, but it was for the best.

—-

On the third day, an unstopping knock sounded on the door. When you heard the voices on the other side- Emily and Kelley- you knew that they wouldn’t stop knocking until you opened the door.

Unwrapping the blanket from your body and pausing briefly to try and make yourself look less ill, you make it to the door and open it. You stare at the women on the other side, an eyebrow cocked in question.

“Hey, nugget,” Emily says, pushing past you and walking into your room, “we figured you could use some company tonight.”

You protested, assuring the women that you were busy while trying to hide the rasp in your voice. The two women ignore you and settle on your bed anyway.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kelley rolls her eyes, “I’ve heard, you’re swamped. But you know what I think?”

You shake your head slightly, unsure as to where Kelley is going.

“I think it’s all a lie. What do you think, Sonny, is Y/N lying to us?”

You try to protest but Emily interrupts you, “she obviously is. I mean, look at her.”

“I think you’re lying,” Kelley continues, “because it’s summer right now. So I know your fall classes haven’t started, and I know that you weren’t taking any summer classes. So you obviously aren’t working on something for school. All of this brings up the question of why you’re lying.”

You stay silent, your eyes suddenly finding it necessary to study the carpet on the hotel floor.

Emily decides that she should also chime in, “at first, we thought you were just being a little shy. But, come on, when have your name and shy been used in the same sentence?”

Kelley continues the conversation, “Then we thought you might be working on a surprise or a prank or something, but you can’t keep a secret.”

“And then,” Emily pauses, “we figured it out.”

“You’re sick, kiddo,” Kelley says bluntly.

“No, I’m not,” you insist much too quickly for someone telling the truth, “I’m totally fine, I’ve just been busy. But I’m completely, 100%, totally healthy.”

Kelley snags an arm around your waist, pulling you to sit between the two women on the bed, “it’s okay if you’re not.”

And the dams had burst, as you began crying. The two women hold you tighter, whispering calming words as you allow all of the emotions from the past few days to escape.

“Shh, buddy, you’re okay,” Emily soothes, “we know you’re feeling a little sick, but you’ll feel better soon. I promise.”

“It’s not that,” you whimper through tears, “I- I just don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

Somewhat confused by your confession, the women share a look over your head. Kelley pulls you to completely rest against her, dropping a few kisses to your hair.

“You don’t have to be alone, that’s why Emmy and I are here. We’re going to snuggle up and watch a movie before bed, you’ll be right between us.”

“But I can’t, cause then you’ll be sick.”

Oh.

That’s what you had been afraid of.

“Oh, bug,” Emily says sadly, “we don’t care if we get sick, that’s okay.”

“But you’ll get sick and then everyone will get sick and it will all be my fault,” you force the words out through tears.

“You’re not going to be patient 0, Y/N/N, I promise. And even if you are, no one will be mad,” Kelley reassures you.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. Remember when you got really sick at camp last year and ended up in the hospital?”

You nod, thinking about the endless wait in the ER as your sick lungs struggled to breathe properly.

“Do you remember how you got sick?”

Again, you nod.

“Do you blame me? I was the first one in the team to get sick and I was your roommate. Was it my fault you got sick and were in the hospital?”

You frantically shake your head no, “of course not, don’t be ridiculous. You didn’t mean to get me sick.”

The women fix you with identical looks, clearly telling you to take your own advice. And you do, slumping fully into their embrace with a sigh.

#woso imagines #uswnt players #uswnt woso #uswnt x reader #reader insert #uswnt imagine #woso x reader #womens soccer #woso imagine #woso #uswntsoccer #uswnt fanfic #uswnt imagines #uswnt reader #uswnt

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elvensorceress · 8 months ago

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sunday sentences 💕

tagged by @rogerzsteven @loveyouanyway @bekkachaos @exhuastedpigeon @daffi-990 @wikiangela @giddyupbuck @evanbegins @wh0re-behavi0r @hoodie-buck tagging if you are so inclined 💕 @eddiebabygirldiaz @hippolotamus @ronordmann @loveyourownsmiilee @spotsandsocks @monsterrae1 @shortsighted-owl @babytrapperdiaz @messyhairdiaz @stagefoureddiediaz @fiona-fififi @thekristen999 @disasterbuckdiaz @tizniz @spaceprincessem @heartshapedvows @diazsdimples @loserdiaz Unless finale with firefam sillies 💕

Buck meets him in the middle section and beams so brightly at him that Eddie breathes easier. He could forget his own name when Buck looks at him with so much joy and adoration.

Even just the simple act of sitting next to each other, pressing arms and thighs together while on the way to a call puts the whole world back in alignment. Eddie’s finally back on the job and Buck is finally, finally next to him in all the ways he needs, all the ways that matter.

It’s suspiciously quiet in the truck as they pull out of the station. There’s radio chatter about the traffic collision they’re on the way to. Nothing that sounds serious. But no one says anything else.

Because Hen and Chimney are both staring. At him? At them? From their spots on either side of Buck and Eddie. They have wide-eyed, expectant expressions that are kind of tense and intense and a lot like being caught snitching cookies but instead of being scolded, someone is just waiting for a confession or admittance of guilt.

Buck looks back and forth between both of them and chooses to play dumb. “What is with the staring? I know Eddie is really pretty, but both of you have wives.”

Eddie bites his lip and is not going to turn red. His face is not going to get hot and he’s not going to say anything he doesn’t have to. Not.

“Technically,” Chim says in a drawn out, this-is-also-only-formality kind of way. “She’s not my wife yet. Soon. Very soon. But not yet.” He grins brightly then, almost as brightly as Buck was. “She asked me to marry her though. I’m going to marry her.”

Eddie smiles back at him, and only aches with maybe two-thirds of his whole being.

He’s never had that. He’s never been so ecstatically happy and excited about being able to get married. He loved Shannon. He did. She’ll always be his first love and the disastrous way it turned out doesn’t erase that. Frank’s voice always reminds him. But the idea of marriage wasn’t exactly happy then. For either of them.

And knowing how it turned out and how neither of them knew how to be a partner to the other and how he never got to enjoy the little things about sharing his life with someone, not even housework and chores and dinners together. It only makes the aching Eddie now has in his chest that much worse.

He wants that kind of partnership so much. He wants Buck to be his husband. He wants every minute, every day, whole lifetimes of being with him in that way. He wants to be excited about getting married and being married.

It’s too soon though.

It’s brand new. They’re working on it.

They have so much to work on.

“What about everyone else?” Hen asks with pointed staring face again. “Any more wedding plans? New dates that we’re going on? Changes in relationship status?”

“Anything to share with the rest of the class?” Chim adds then holds up a hand like a stop now forever. “Anything that is not filthy gory hooking up because I think I speak for everyone when I say, we’ve had enough of hearing about Buck’s sex life. More than enough. Too much. Bad time all around.”

“Okay,” Buck says with his own dismissive hand wave. “I have it way worse. When you talk about your sex life, I have to know that it’s with my sister, and that is just—” he makes a sour, disgusted face and shakes his head. “That’s worse.”

“I don’t talk about my sex life here in this sacred vehicle of life saving,” Chim protests.

Hen gives him a side eye. “You sometimes talk about your sex life here. In this sacred vehicle of life saving.”

“Fine, one time. It was important. We didn’t know how to do the— never mind. You know what else is important?” Chim looks back to Buck and Eddie still pressed together in the middle of their sacred vehicle of gossip and asking too much information. “Telling your friends, your family, your sacred battlefield brethren. Brethren and sisteren?” He glances at Hen and asks, “What would the word even be? Why is language so annoyingly sexist?”

She gives him a “you know why” look.

And he shrugs and continues. “We are your sacred colleagues, comrades-in-arms, ride-or-die, hashtag squad goals!”

“How do you even know ‘squad goals’?” Buck asks and Eddie would also like to know the answer to this question. Because he has never heard of it either and that is not something he will admit ever.

“My nephew taught me. He knows everything. You should know.”

“Your nephew?” Buck gives him a strange look. “Don’t tell me Albert has a secret kid no one knows about.”

Chim makes indignant gestures, likely at the lack of comprehension, because that is definitely his “everyone missed my reference” reaction and he looks to Hen for sympathy.

Oh. Oh, but Eddie gets it. Of course that’s where Chim learned it.

“He’s marrying your sister,” Hen deadpan explains. “Therefore he’s your brother-in-law and any child of yours would be his niece or nephew. Or chosen non-binary equivalent.”

It takes a second, but then a rosy pink flush colors Buck’s cheeks as he grins his “I love Christopher more than all the things” grin.

It’s way too cute. It’s too special and too sweet, and Eddie can’t stop the smile that touches his own face either. But he can press his leg against Buck’s and dream about holding both him and Chris in the biggest three-person family hug.

read on to snippet #2

#buddie #seven sentence sunday #buddie wip #jenwyn wip #fic: unless you ask me to #911

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daechwitatamic · 1 year ago

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4. Perilune || KSJ

(banner by @itaeewon)

Title: Amalthea (Masterpost) - Part 4: Perilune

Rating: NSFW - minors go away i mean it Genre: best friend's older brother!au, angst smut fluff trifecta Pairing: Seokjin x female reader Beta team: @yoongiphoria, @here2bbtstrash, @kookstempo

Summary: You can count on two things in life. One: that your lifelong best friend Minji will always be there for you, in your corner, your brightest star. Two: that you'll never be free from her older brother Seokjin's orbit - the gravitational pull is just too strong.

Warnings: language, confessions, drinking, angst, facetime sex lol bye, vibrator use (f), dirty talk, kissing, lightly dom!jin, fingering, reader takes it from behind, penetrative sex (protection not mentioned either way), multiple orgasms (f. receiving), sweet aftercare

WC: 9k

Part 4: Perilune

Perilune: (noun) the point of an elliptical lunar orbit where the satellite and the Moon are the closest

“What… is going on here?” Minji asks, eyes wide, voice trembling.

Seokjin, secret genius, reaches out an arm to welcome her into the hug. “Y/N is upset,” he says easily, like this is a perfectly natural thing. “Come help.”

Minji’s eyes narrow, but she shuffles into the hug, wrapping one arm around each of you. “But,” she ventures after a minute, “why are you upset?”

You shake yourself free of the hug, wipe at your face roughly with both hands. You consider your options. You consider that Seokjin is willing to forgo the easy option, to wrestle with a tough reality for you.

You owe him the same.

“Because I don’t know what’s going to happen when he flies home again,” you say, as honest as you can be. “And I’m scared I’ll lose him again. And I hate that it isn’t easier.”

Minji looks back and forth between you silently. “Are you….?” she manages, and the question is pointed more at Seokjin than you, so he answers.

“We’re together,” he says simply.

The shock flies to her face almost instantly, but all you feel is resignation. You’re already emotionally spent today; this might as well happen.

“For how long?” she demands. “When did this start?”

You look at him. “Technically, like four days ago,” you answer, deciding to omit the New Year’s Eve debacle. For now.

Her eyes narrow again. “You didn’t tell me.” The accusation falls at your feet, but you’re glad to accept it.

“We were…” You trail off, meeting Seokjin’s eyes over her head. “We were trying to feel it out before we told anybody.”

“Hmph,” Minji sniffs, arms crossed, frown pronounced. “I’m not anybody. I’m your best friend.”

“I know,” you whisper. “But it felt… complicated. Considering. You don’t… hate this? Would you… are you okay with this?”

Minji huffs out a laugh, the same way Seokjin does when he thinks you’ve said something ridiculous. “Please,” she says, reaching back to elbow her brother in the ribs. “You two have been stupid for each other since we were teenagers. It’s honestly about time.”

It feels too good to be true. Seokjin smiles, grabbing her arm and wiggling it around affectionately. “Look how mature you are,” he coos. “Look at my mature, smart, lovely, wonderful sister.”

“Get off me,” she snaps, but there’s no bite behind it. “God, you two loons.”

Later, when you’re back home, alone, trying to process everything that had happened, your phone lights up.

[11:57 PM] Minji 💗: OH MY GOD [11:57 PM] Minji 💗: THIS MEANS [11:57 PM] Minji 💗: YOU GOT THE GOOD DICK GLOW [11:57 PM] Minji 💗: FROM MY BROTHER???????///??????????? [11:57 PM] Minji 💗: I WILL THROW UP I WILL THROW UP RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[12:03 AM] Jin 😎: well now that the cat’s out of the bag… can i take you on a date before i go?

–

You tell Jin yes, but the next night isn’t spent with him. Instead, you show up after dinner to Minji’s apartment holding a fresh stalk of celery with a cheery bow slapped on the packaging. It’s stupid - ridiculous, really - but it’s a you and Minji thing dating all the way back to middle school and you think she’ll laugh.

You’re right; as soon as she processes the nonsense she’s looking at, she bursts into laughter.

“Damn,” she cackles, backing up to let you into the apartment. “You must be feeling guilty. You bypassed show up with beer and went straight to celery!”

“Please accept this token of my deepest regrets and most sincere apologies,” you deadpan, pushing the stalks into her hands. Still laughing, she heads into her tiny kitchen to find a spot for them in the fridge. You perch on the arm of her couch, waiting for her to come talk to you.

She’s shaking her head at you when she returns, flopping on her couch and staring up at you. “You really didn’t need to,” she says, still smiling.

You twist your mouth at her. “I’ve known you for a long time,” you say gently. “I know it hurt your feelings that I didn’t tell you.”

She looks away and shrugs. For a second you think she’s going to lie, but then she juts out her jaw the way she does when she’s feeling defensive and she says, “I guess. I understood, though. I mean, I get why you didn’t.”

You run your toes along a pattern on her rug. “It’s weird because… I don’t know what’s okay to tell you?”

She cocks her head, not fully understanding.

You try again. “I mean… I don’t want to not tell you stuff… but obviously there will be things that you don’t want to hear.”

“Ah,” she says, understanding, starting to nod. “Well… how about you give me some warning if anyone’s gonna get naked.”

“A safe word,” you suggest, only partly joking.

“Pineapple,” she says sagely. “If there are naked parts, warn me with pineapple.”

You laugh. “Okay,” you agree. “So should I? Tell you all of it?”

“Start at the beginning,” she directs.

“The beginning.” You laugh again. The beginning was so long ago, before you even understood it. “Well, I think I’ve been in love with him since –”

“Since forever.”

“How come you knew, but he didn’t?” you ask, exasperated. Had everyone known but you and him?

“Seokjin is an idiot,” she says simply, crossing her arms behind her head and getting comfortable. “Tell me the rest.”

You sink onto the couch opposite her, hugging your knees to your chest. “We had a lot of moments over the years,” you admit, “where I really… wondered. You know?”

“You were the only one wondering,” she says with a smile. “He’s always… made space for you, broke his own rules for you. Jungkook and I used to joke about it. He was always nicer to you than to us.”

You take this in, letting it soak into your heart like sunlight on your skin. You can feel the truth of it, can recognize that some part of you must have known this all along.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “I guess it was like that, from the outside. I just… never knew what it meant. It was hard to see it clearly, from too close.”

Minji reaches over and squeezes your hand briefly, encouraging. “So, when did things start-start? Like really start?”

“Well,” you say tentatively, “two years ago, when you had that New Year’s Eve party? We, uh… shared a pineapple that night.”

Minji blinks at you, and you watch the moment it processes. Her eyes go wide, lips curling a bit in revulsion. “You what? How long ago? At my dad’s house?”

You cover your face with your hands, peeking at her between fingers. “Yeah.”

She exhales, nearly a whisper. “Two years ago?” she repeats, disbelieving. Now, a bit of hurt does creep into her voice as she adds, “That’s a long time to keep a secret.”

“I would have told you, I swear,” you hurry to say. “But he… kind of vanished the next day. Got on the plane and left and literally never talked to me about it again.”

“God, he’s an incurable fucking idiot,” Minji mutters, mostly to herself, it seems.

“We worked it out,” you explain. “Recently. But yeah… I was embarrassed. And hurt, to be honest. I just didn’t want to have to admit any of it. I think saying it out loud to you - to anyone - would have killed me. I wanted to just… pretend it didn’t happen.”

She groans in mock agony, throwing her head back and flopping dramatically, like your own stupidity is causing her great pain.

“I know,” you say, apologetic despite her dramatics. “The whole thing is ridiculous.”

“So?” she says, pulling herself together and scooting to sit back up. “What’s happening now? You’ve… had pineapples again, since he came home for Dad’s surgery?”

You feel your face burn like it’s caught fire before you can even answer and she starts shrieking and laughing, reaching to whack your legs with a throw pillow.

“Never mind!” she cries. “I got my answer, don’t tell me anything else! My actual question is - what happens next?”

You shrug, your stomach sinking. “I’m not sure,” you say. “He… told me he loves me?”

Minji squeals, the noise echoing to her lofted ceilings and back, her feet kicking.

“But,” you add, “he’s flying home in a few days…”

“What?” Minji squawks indignantly, sitting all the way up to face you. “So you’ll just let it die again? I physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually cannot watch you idiots drag this out for another two years.”

“Yeah,” you agree with a little laugh, even though you suddenly feel a bit like crying. “I obviously don’t want that either. He said we’ll talk about it when it’s time.”

She sighs heavily. “Don’t leave it up to him,” she instructs. “He’s so dumb, like my god is he dumb. I have faith in you. Handle it.”

“Okay, bossy,” you say, poking her leg with your foot. “I promise to do my best.”

She nods, satisfied. “You better,” she threatens, and then heads to the kitchen to munch on the celery you’d brought her.

–

Seokjin’s last day comes too quickly. You’ve been dreading it for days. You remember all the other times he’s left before - for college, then when he moved, and on New Year’s Day after sleeping with you for the first time. You had spent all of those days at your parents’ house, watching across the street as cars were loaded, or assessing the empty place in the driveway.

It makes it suck less that this time, you’re in your own apartment, and Seokjin is with you, telling you goodbye instead of vanishing in silence.

“Don’t be so sad,” he tells you sweetly. “We’ll see each other soon.”

“No we won’t,” you grumble, pouting.

Days ago, you’d curled into his side, clutching the fabric of his white t-shirt between desperate fingers. The cotton had felt like an anchor.

“Jin?” you’d asked, and he’d looked down at you from his phone, where a game waited for his input.

“Hm?”

“It’s like… three days left.”

“Yeah,” he’d said slowly, like he wasn’t sure where you were going with this. But of course he did - what else could be weighing on your mind? Why else would you bring it up?

“We said we’d decide what to do when it was closer,” you reminded him. “It’s closer.”

“It is,” he agreed easily, turning his phone screen off and shifting to give you his full attention. “And?”

You couldn’t stand it, suddenly, his teasing.

“Seokjin,” you murmured, reproachfully.

“What?” he asked innocently, bumping your nose with his. He was smiling, like he thought your distress was a little funny.

“Jin,” you whined. “I’m being serious! We need to talk about it!”

“So let’s talk about it!” he had laughed. Then, watching your face, he’d grown serious. He’d brushed his fingers along your jaw, pressed a kiss to the scrunch between your eyebrows. “I’m listening,” he promised.

“When you go home…” you’d said quietly, “I don’t want this to end. I know we said long distance is awful, but…” You trailed off.

“But what’s the alternative?” he finished the thought for you. “I don’t want this to be over, either.”

“So,” you’d said slowly, hope daring to blossom behind your ribcage, “we’ll try?”

He had nodded seriously, eyes far away as he considered this option. “It won’t be fun, and it won’t be easy,” he’d warned. “But, yeah… I’d like to try. I don’t want to throw this away again.”

As he double-checks his luggage in the doorway of your apartment, he sends you a rueful smile and says your name disarmingly.

“What?” you grumble.

“We’ll see each other soon,” he repeats indulgently.

“Soon,” you scoff. “Like, what? Christmas?”

He comes to you then, wrapping his arms around your angry shoulders. “Listen,” he says, his dulcet voice soothing you, “My goal is to find a way to be with you. I’m going to go back and do whatever I can to make that happen. Okay?”

“A man with a plan,” you murmur, softening with his reassurances.

“A man who’s done losing time,” he says solemnly.

It’s the first time he’s leaving you where you have the chance to kiss him goodbye.

It’s the first time he’s leaving you with hope that he’ll return and help you build something better.

–

You and Jin talk on the phone every day that he’s gone. It sucks to be far apart, sure, but somehow this is still better than before - at least now you’re talking, a ton, giggling and flirting openly like you’ve never been able to before.

At least now you can tell him you love him before hanging up, instead of pretending you don’t, instead of denying it, lying about it, trying to imagine a life where it isn’t your biggest truth.

Almost a week passes before Jin tells you, ceremoniously, “I… have news.”

“Ooh,” you say. “I’m listening.”

He smiles at you lazily through the screen; you’re each in bed, chatting before saying goodnight. “Don’t get too excited,” he warns you. “It’s good news, but it’s not ideal news.”

“I will temper my expectations,” you promise.

“I requested to transfer,” he tells you. “I put in the request the day I came back.”

You smile, feeling warm and grateful, feeling full of love and appreciation. “And?”

“It’s not perfect,” he warns you again. “I did get approved, but -“

You squeal.

“But,” he continues over you, “they want me to work down a 90-day notice and help train someone to take my place here. And the transfer location isn’t in town, it’s in the city.”

You stay silent, thinking about this.

“So,” you clarify slowly, “we have to wait three months, but then you’ll be here?”

“Not there-there,” he points out. “An hour away.”

“It’s better than now,” you point out. “Even if I only see you on weekends, it’s better than now.”

“It’ll be more than that,” he says. “That’s the absolute worst case scenario. Okay?”

“Okay,” you say, minimizing the call to pull up your calendar. “Ninety days starting… today?”

“Tomorrow is day one,” he tells you warmly. You click the date on your calendar - a Thursday in early September - and mark it Jin transfers.

“Can’t wait,” you say, opening the call again. “When are we gonna apartment hunt?”

He laughs. “I’ve already got Minji on it.”

You lay awake long after you hang up, daydreaming of ninety days from now, when Seokjin will be just an hour away, close enough to drive to, close enough to touch.

—

“How was your day, beautiful?” Jin greets you before the connection loads his video, his voice finding you before his face does. It’s been about a month and a half of the long-distance thing, and your video call routine is solid.

You roll on your side, holding your phone so Jin can see your sad little face and a good helping of cleavage from your pajama top. “I don’t know,” you pout. “Okay, I guess.”

“Aigoo,” he croons. “What’s wrong with my favorite girl today?”

You sigh heavily; you’ve dropped the act for the most part, and now you’re letting your actual frustration show. It’s about a month into your relationship, a month into making long distance work.

“I dunno,” you admit. “I think I’m just having a day where I miss you.”

“I’m here,” he says seriously, bringing his phone closer to his face. Disgusting, that you can see him so clearly that you can make out the affection in his gaze, and yet he’s still hundreds of miles away.

“I know,” you say. “But I guess I miss… the physical stuff.”

He grins wolfishly before you’re even done with the word “physical”, eyebrows waggling suggestively.

You laugh - you can’t help it. “I meant like… I could use a hug. But… yeah, that too, now that you mention it. A little stress relief would be nice.”

Jin shifts on your screen. “Hm,” he says tightly, voice suddenly different enough that it brings your attention to him sharply. “Well, how would you have handled that - before me?”

You feel yourself flush. “Jin,” you scold. “Don’t tease me.”

“As much as I do love to see you get flustered,” he admits, “I am very serious right now.”

How did you miss his expression darkening? Suddenly, his brows are starting to furrow, his eyes narrowed just slightly with intent focus. His voice touches on dangerous.

“What are you doing?” you ask him, words all mumbled through your embarrassment.

“If you can’t tell me, maybe you should just show me,” he suggests, that edge to his voice singing like the freshly forged metal of a gleaming sword.

“Oh my god,” you mutter, still mostly mortified. Only a little turned on. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“My normal way, is, uh… with some battery-powered assistance.”

You can’t even look at him.

“Why are you being shy about it?” he asks. “That’s hot. I wanna see - wanna see what you do. Wanna see you come undone.”

You almost gasp, and he makes the mistake of letting his breath out just a touch too loudly, shifting just a bit too suspiciously.

“Are you-?”

“Of fucking course I am,” he huffs, and now it’s obvious that he’s got his hand around his dick - the scrunch of his brows, his teeth on his bottom lip. “Come on, don’t let me party alone.”

“You’re such a dork.” Despite the insult, your thighs are rubbing together as if of their own volition, and you sneak your hand down to press against your core just once for relief.

“You’d forget all about that if I had my hands on you instead,” he asserts, voice low. “I’d like to see you call me names when I’m up to my knuckles in your -”

“Jin!”

“Am I wrong?” he smirks. You can tell by the way the phone shakes just so that he’s still stroking himself, slowly.

You have no answer to that.

“Come on,” he urges. “Let me see. I’m so hard.”

Your breath whooshes from you as he admits this. You’d never done this before - with anyone, not on video. It feels scary, but definitely fun. And, of course, you trust Jin implicitly. You know this will stay between you two.

“Take your shirt off,” you murmur, and the speed at which he obeys would be comical if you weren’t wet to the point of discomfort.

“You too,” he begs, voice going whiney for just a second. You hesitate, still a little shy, but finally you pull the material over your head, dropping it on the empty side of the bed for later. You roll sideways, placing your arm strategically to prop your tits up a bit.

“Now bottoms,” he instructs, half breathless. You’re slow to comply, eyes taking in the skin he’s revealed on-screen - tanned shoulders, pecs, dusky nipples, his flat tummy. Eventually you tear your eyes away enough to shimmy out of your pajama bottoms and panties, looking back at him expectantly.

Seokjin angles the camera down for a minute, displaying the way he’s got his fist around the base of his cock, holding it upright and proud for you. “See what you did?” he grunts, hand sliding up and squeezing the head before taking its place at the bottom again.

“You’ve got crimes to answer for, too,” you tease.

“Show me,” he says, the words tumbling from him. He shifts the camera back to focus on his face. “Please, baby, let me see you.”

It takes some maneuvering, but you manage to bend your leg and prop your phone up, reaching to keep one finger on the top to steady it. You try not to look at your own body on the screen, focusing instead on how Seokjin’s eyes go heavy-lidded as he takes you in, how his breath hitches when you slide your middle finger between your folds and swirl it around in the gathered slickness you find there.

He swears fiercely, and you almost laugh. It makes you warmer, wetter, knowing you can affect him like this.

“Spread them,” he commands, and you feel yourself clench at the words.

“Really?” you ask, though you know he means it. You just want to buy time, the feeling of being exposed new and a little frightening.

“Wanna see,” he repeats, lips barely moving to form the words.

Finally, you muster the courage and do as he asked with your thumb and forefinger, listening to the slick sound of his hand on his cock, the way his exhales carry the barest touch of a groan.

“Happy?” you ask after a minute of his huffed breaths, bringing the phone back up towards your face and unbending your leg.

“Won’t be happy until you come,” he mutters. “Show me what you do. Please?”

“Is that what you want?” you ask, feeling a little breathless. “Just do what I normally do and let you listen?”

“And watch,” he breathes.

You roll to dig through your nightstand drawer, coming out with a low-key but trusty bullet. When you click it on, Seokjin’s eyes fly to yours through the screen.

You follow his direction, tilting the camera so he can watch you slide it, on its lowest setting, over your entrance and up to your clit. You retrace this path three more times, slowly, lightly, your body warming up by degrees. When you finally settle it firmly over your clit and leave it, you can’t help the low, rolling moan you let out.

“That’s right,” Jin whispers. “Tell me how good it feels.”

“Not as good as you would,” you admit with a little laugh.

“Soon,” he promises. And then, “What would you want me to do?”

“God,” you utter, pressing the bullet tighter against your clit. “Anything - your fingers, your mouth - want you inside me.”

He can’t even answer you, eyes sliding closed for a second as he loses himself in your words, in the picture they play in his head, in the memories of you that they unravel.

“I- I’m getting close,” you warn him, the pulsing starting in gentle, easy waves, a warning sign.

He answers with a groan, and you click the bullet to a higher setting, letting your head fall back and your eyes drift closed as you lose yourself in the vibrations. The call is filled with the sound of steady buzzing, the slick skin-on-skin sound of Seokjin’s hand, both of your gasped and haggard breathing, punctuated by low groans and the occasional whine.

You grit his name between your teeth when you teeter closer.

“Let go,” he commands, his voice rumbling deeper than you’ve ever heard it. It’s a stark contrast to the higher-pitched whine he lets out when you do, a wordless wail sailing between your lips as your legs shake and your whole body tightens. He comes with a cry before you’ve even caught your breath, quiet and stillness finally settling over you both as you click off your bullet and toss it sideways on your bed to clean off later.

He smiles beatifically, some of his hair stuck to his forehead. “That was fun,” he says, leaning to reach for something, you assume to clean himself off with. “You feel better?”

“Yeah,” you agree breathlessly, legs still twitching a little. “But not as good as I could. Not as good as if you were here.”

“Soon,” he promises again, eyes crinkling as he smiles at you. “I promise. I’ll be with you soon.”

–

[9:28 AM] You: good morningggg [12:03 PM] You: wow, busy today huh? hope it’s a good busy and not a shitty busy 😘 [5:02 PM] You: heading home! call me if you get a second? [10:41 PM] You: ok well i’m going to bed… talk tmrw maybe. Goodnight.

You sleep fitfully, filled with unease and disappointment. Your phone’s vibrations wake you close to midnight. You answer it without checking the screen.

“Mm’lo?” you manage, eyes still closed.

“Baby, I am so sorry,” Seokjin blurts through the line. “I literally just got home.”

Your mind, still mostly asleep, is muddy. “Hmm,” you breathe, trying to process, trying to make coherent words. “It’s so late.”

“I know,” he says sorrowfully. “I was running in circles all day, I legitimately don’t think I’ve peed since morning.”

You let another breath that’s kind of like a sigh. “That’s not healthy,” you murmur.

He laughs a little. “Tell me about it. Anyway, I’m sorry I was MIA all day. I hope you didn’t worry.”

“I didn’t worry,” you tell him, starting to wake up a little. “I knew you were working. Missed you, though.”

“I missed you, too.”

“You were too busy to miss me.”

He laughs again. “Well, I miss you now.” Then, almost to himself, “The moon’s pretty tonight. Looks almost full.”

You shimmy to the edge of your bed, where you can peek through your sheer curtains. The moon is very full, visible just above rooftops across the street.

“I see it,” you tell him sleepily. It gives you a sense of peace that, although you’re far away, although you really failed as a couple at communication today, at least you can share this - the pure white moonlight, the darkened mares barely visible.

You both go silent for a few minutes, and you keep your eyes on the moon.

“Hey,” Seokjin says softly. “I know today sucked. It won’t always be like this, okay? One more month - not even a whole month - and we won’t ever have days like this again.”

“Yeah,” you say, a little unconvinced.

“We won’t,” he assures you. “I’ll make sure of it. You’ll be sick of me in no time.”

“Can’t wait,” you tell him with a yawn, finally scooting back into the warm spot you’d vacated, ready for sleep to find you again.

–

Seokjin’s new apartment - a fifty-three minute drive from your own, you timed it - is admittedly really nice. Nicer than your “swanky” one.

“God, this kitchen,” you marvel after dropping a box of his cutting boards and mixing bowls onto the kitchen counter. “It’s almost enough to make me want to learn to cook more.”

He laughs. “I think I told the agent yes based on this room alone.”

Most of the big furniture pieces were brought up by the moving company Jin had hired, so you help him unload the rest of the boxes from his car and you both look around, trying to determine the best place to start.

“I’m going to find my sheet sets and set up my bed,” he decides, eyes scanning the many boxes. “That way when we tire ourselves out, it’s ready to go. Can you… maybe find the bag with all my toiletries and get that stuff in the bathroom?”

“Aye-aye, captain!” you chirp, starting to wade into the sea of cardboard, but Seokjin tugs you back gently by your shirt’s hem.

“What?” you ask him, a little giggly.

“What are you so happy about?” he teases, pulling you close and resting his mouth near your temple, not quite a kiss.

You shrug, wrapping your arms around his middle and welcoming the hug. You never want to go three months without him ever again.

“Just…” you say, trailing off to think. “Just happy that you’re here.”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “This is better, right?”

“Couldn’t hug you before,” you agree.

His smile goes sideways. “Lots of things we couldn’t do before.”

You laugh, pushing him away playfully. “Can’t do that until you set the bed up!”

“That is simply untrue,” he points out, even as he heads towards a box clearly labeled linens/blankets/pillows. “You just lost creativity points.”

You roll your eyes, unable to do anything about the grin on your face, and get to work searching for his shampoo.

Later, after you finished the bathroom and started putting laundry away and after Jin spent a solid two hours hooking up all his consoles and messing with the wiring, you lay sideways across his newly made bed, feeling like the bones have melted out of your body.

“Unpacking is exhausting,” you complain. “I was going to drive home tonight so I could sleep later in the morning, but I don’t think I can.”

“Good,” Jin murmurs, sounding half-asleep himself. He rolls and throws an arm heavily over your middle, tugs you closer. “Stay here with me. Stay all night.”

I think… I could stay forever, you think.

–

[10:06 AM] You: morning 😘 today’s gonna be a really rough day at work for me so don’t worry if you dont hear from me until late, ok? [10:06 AM] Jin 🥰: yeah i remembered. good luck, you’ve got this! [10:06 AM] Jin 🥰: I’ll see you tonight at my place right? [10:07 AM] You: yes - the only thing getting me through the dayyy

By the time you stagger to your car, it’s been dark for hours. Your feet are throbbing in pain, your back feels like you wrestled an elephant, and you’re so tired you almost consider a nap in the backseat.

And then you remember - you’re supposed to drive the hour to Jin’s place tonight. In the six months Jin has been in his new place, you’ve taken turns every few nights making the trek back and forth. Tonight is your turn.

Or, is supposed to be.

You two had only canceled once before, on a night when a terrible rainstorm swept through and made the roads unsafe. Apart from that, you’d always shown up - or he had.

Guilt, and the desire to see Jin, wage war against your exhaustion until you’re nearly in tears over it. You just don’t know what to do - try and make the drive, or wave the white flag and just go home to a hot shower and, finally, some dinner.

Eventually, you turn on the car and start towards home, calling Jin as you go.

“Well, look who it is,” he greets you warmly.

You sniff in reply. “Jin? I don’t think I’m coming there tonight. I’m really sorry. I’m just - I’m so tired, I feel like it wouldn’t be safe - and I haven’t eaten anything since before work and -”

“Hey,” he interrupts you gently. “It’s fine. Do you want me to come there?”

You glance at the clock on the dashboard. “Honestly,” you say, mournful, “I don’t think it’s worth it. I won’t be awake, and even if I am, I won’t be fun.”

“I don’t care if you’re fun,” he says. You know he means it. But still.

“I”m just gonna go home, eat, shower, and pass out,” you say, feeling utterly defeated. “I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says.

You still cry, quietly, mostly out of frustration, the rest of the way home, even after you’ve hung up. Going home to him would have been exactly what you needed tonight, and it feels deeply unfair that you can’t have that.

You eat first, scarfing down leftovers you pull from your fridge, not even bothering to put on a tv show for noise. You barely even sit down. A hot shower does wonders, and soon you’re collapsing into bed, hardly having the strength to roll over and reach for your charger’s cord. You text Jin another apology and a sweet goodnight, but you’re asleep before he can answer, lost to the dark.

You wake up confused, still engulfed in darkness. It feels like you’ve only been asleep for minutes. You become aware of a noise near the end of your bed and your adrenaline spikes. You sit up, reaching for your phone.

“Don’t mace me,” Jin laughs, coming around the side of the bed and moving the blankets so he can slide in next to you.

You’re frozen, uncomprehending. “Jin?”

“The one and only,” he quips, rolling to cling to your back. “Surprise.”

“I told you not to come!” you splutter.

“Should I leave?” he asks wryly, and you grab his wrist as if he might.

“Don’t you dare,” you say, heart rate starting to calm now that you’ve discovered there isn’t a murderer in your apartment. “God, your feet are like icicles.”

He hums a laugh into your hair, runs a hand down your arm. “Go back to sleep,” he tells you.

You try to listen, scrumping around until you’re comfy again, his body warm and solid behind yours. “Can’t believe you drove here in the middle of the night,” you say finally, a touch of disbelief in your voice. “You’re out of your mind.”

He pulls you tight and then releases you. “Just try and keep me away,” he dares the universe, voice low next to your ear.

You slowly drift back towards sleep, breathing going even and deep. The last thing you remember before you go under is whispering, “Thank you.” To him. Maybe to the universe.

–

“I can’t believe I’m doing this for the second time in less than a year,” Seokjin grumbles from his side of the couch that the two of you are trying - and currently, failing - to get up a stairwell.

“Are you complaining?” you ask, a bit of challenge in your voice. “Are you complaining after your amazing girlfriend found the best apartment, perfectly situated halfway between our jobs, and secured it - all while you were locked into Overwatch? Are you complaining that the living an hour away problem is finally over after an entire year? No more stupid-early commutes, or only seeing each other long enough to sleep - you have complaints?”

“I am complaining,” he asserts, shifting the couch in his hands, “about the physical labor.”

When you get to a good stopping point, hours later, you lean heavily against the kitchen counter. “Should we peruse our new home’s take-out options?” you ask, starting to reach for your phone.

Seokjin doesn’t answer, which causes you to look up and assess why not. When you meet his gaze, he’s got a look in his eyes that you’re starting to know well.

“Seriously?” you ask with a laugh. “You’re not too tired?”

“For you?” he scoffs, moving closer, predatory. “Never.”

“I’m all sweaty…”

“I deeply do not care.”

“I can do approximately zero percent of the work,” you warn him.

He towers over you, hands coming to grip the counter on either side of your body, caging you in. “Wasn’t planning on you doing any work at all,” he admits darkly, mouth close enough to your ear to tickle. “I’m suddenly remembering almost a year ago, when I promised to bend you over the kitchen table someday. And now, we have our own kitchen table, in our brand new place together.”

Your grin turns predatory in turn. “Alright, you convinced me.”

“Good,” he grunts, and grips your jaw gently enough that it doesn’t hurt, firmly enough that he can easily tilt you back to receive his biting, desperate kiss.

You moan immediately, melting back against the counter, thrilled by his urgency. You peel off his shirt, letting it drop onto the hardwood beneath your feet, and yours follows soon after. You lift your arms obediently when Jin tugs at the band of your sports bra, rolling it up and sliding it over your arms. He encases you with his arms, kissing you deeply, and you slide your hands down his stomach as you slide your tongue over his.

It isn’t long before he’s tugging your leggings and panties down in one hand, and you use your feet to free yourself the rest of the way. He’s rough today as he slides his digits between your legs, barely slicking them up before pushing two fingers as far into you as he can, twisting them before pulling them out again.

You breathe his name, clinging to him desperately, hips pushing back against him as he pumps his fingers in and out of you indelicately, causing the last syllable of his name to come out on a whine. You push absently at the waistband of his joggers, too weakly to actually get them anywhere. You make a noise of complaint, and he laughs lowly, punctuating the sound with a particularly vicious flick of the wrist, sending his fingers pistoning into your front wall.

“Jin,” you wail, assaulted by the sudden sensation. “Please, I -”

“Awfully needy for someone who had to be convinced,” he smirks, and if you weren’t halfway to your first orgasm of the night you might have whacked him for it.

But then his fingers are slipping out of you, and he’s pushing his joggers and boxers to the ground and pulling you towards the table, telling you quietly, “C’mere.”

When he said bend you over, he meant bend you over, apparently, because as soon as he has you close enough he’s spinning you to face the table, one palm firmly pushing between your shoulder blades until your front presses against the tabletop.

“This okay?” he murmurs behind you, the same hand that pushed you into place caressing a worshipful pattern back down your ribs, sliding over your ass and resting there, waiting.

“Very,” you groan, and shudder when he answers this by leaning his body over your back, his hands splayed on either side of your ribcage, holding him up.

“In that case,” he says, “arms up. Hold the other side.”

Your breath leaves you audibly and you obey, reaching to grip the opposite side of the table. He strokes the curve of your ass again, and then you feel him run the head of his cock up and down your slit - it sends a white-pleasure shock through you when it rubs firmly over your clit and you try to catch it on your entrance as he slides back up.

You whine again, and he chuckles before finally pushing into you.

You both groan as he bottoms out, yours turning to a gasp as he bumps something deep inside you that makes your entire abdomen flex in response.

“Shit,” you gasp, “you’re so deep this way -”

“Fuck,” he growls, the word torn from his throat as he starts to move. “Why are you so tight, I’m gonna last two minutes like this, damn -”

“Because I’m about three seconds from coming,” you say - or you try to. It comes out more like a moan, your voice shaky and tremulous, betraying you completely.

“Do it then,” he says, gripping your hips with one hand and reaching around to find your clit with another as he keeps a torturously steady pace. “Come all over me.”

His nimble fingers do the trick and it’s only seconds later that you’re following directions, pressing your forehead desperately into the wood of the table as your body trembles and shakes beneath Jin’s hands.

You feel your toes curling against the hardwood floor, feel your fingers go tight against the table’s edge, feel your pussy clench around him again and again and again, feel the sensation of light race down your legs and out to your fingertips, feel Jin’s cock slide against your pulsing walls, feel his hands come to your hips to pull you against each stroke.

You hear your first gasped breath, hear the slap of skin on skin, hear the huffs and groans of Jin’s broken breathing behind you as you slowly come back into your body, as the tremors in your legs die back down to tiny, interspersed shakes.

“Holy shit,” you manage, lifting your head off the table and trying to look at him over your shoulder.

“Can you take more?” he checks, his hand twitching on your hip like he’s keeping it in line.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he whispers, and pulls your hips flush against his, slamming into you, sliding out, slamming in again until you’re keening out syllables that don’t add up to words, eyes screwed shut, exhales warbling out like sobs.

“Take it so well,” he praises, his voice shattered, the words coming through a clenched jaw, as he breathes and focuses and tries to hang on, hips snapping.

He slows his pace and reaches for your shoulder, pulling you to straighten up, your back flush against his sticky chest. You moan at the change of angle, and then he slips out of you, turns you around again and lets you sit on the edge of the table. He reaches one arm around your shoulders to brace you and slides back in slowly.

Your head falls back, eyes closed.

“Can you look at me?” he breathes, chest jumping as he tries to keep it together.

With difficulty, you lift your head and open your eyes, finding his watching you intently. Gazes locked, he pumps once, twice, three more times and comes with a shudder, his head falling onto your shoulder as he spasms and groans deep and loud.

His hips slow and then eventually come to a stop. He stays buried deep inside you, lifting his head from your shoulder and bringing his other arm around your back.

“I don’t think I can walk,” you tell him thickly, your legs shaking.

He slips out of you gently, reaching down to wipe away a bit of mess that followed onto your thigh. “Don’t walk, then,” he tells you, and guides your arms around his neck before lifting you and carrying you through your new apartment towards the en suite.

He sets you gently on the edge of the tub and reaches to turn the shower on full blast. “Did we find towels?” he asks.

You lean against the tiled wall. “The box is on the bed.”

“Okay,” he says, then crouches down before you. “You good?”

“Mhm,” you tell him. He retreats, and you hear the telltale sign of tape being ripped off cardboard. He returns with two towels in hand and gently lifts you, guiding you over the edge of the tub and into the warm spray of water.

You lean against him heavily, sleepiness coming over you like a fog. He runs a hand over your hair affectionately, then leans down to whisper, “Four rooms to go.”

–

“Jin? Is the table set?”

“It’s set.”

“Can you open the wine?”

“Opening.”

“What about the -”

Seokjin takes your hands. You hadn’t even heard him enter the room. You’re too frazzled to even be startled.

“What are you so nervous for?” he asks, peering at you. “It’s Minji and Jungkook and our parents. We could literally serve pizza bagels in our pajamas and it would be fine.”

You sniff. “That actually sounds really good.”

Seokjin looks at you indulgently. “They won’t be here for another half hour. We have lots of time.”

“Okay,” you sigh. “You’re right. It’s just my first time hosting everyone at the same time here, in our place together - it just feels… significant.” Your parents and Seokjin’s family had been to the place you share several times in the last few months, but never together. Never for an event.

“I’m not saying I disagree,” he says gently. “But I promise, everything is more than fine.”

“You’re right,” you say, still unable to help, but glancing around the eating area for any detail you may have missed.

“Why don’t we try the wine?” Jin suggests.

“That’s for later,” you remind him.

“There’s plenty. We should make sure it’s good.” He sends you a wink.

You sigh, knowing exactly what he’s up to. “A small pour,” you instruct. “I’m gonna go grab my phone off the charger, I’ll be right there.”

You step through your bedroom without bothering to turn the lamp on, moving by memory over to your nightstand where your phone awaits. When you turn around to head back, you bump into Seokjin, lingering behind you in the shadowy room.

“What are you doing?” you laugh. “I thought you were opening the wine.”

He takes your hands again, how he had just minutes ago by the kitchen table. “You’re right,” he says, ignoring your question. “Tonight does feel significant.”

You feel your brows furrow. “Jin?”

He takes a breath, like he’s steadying himself. “There’s something I want to ask you before everyone gets here.”

Your heart drops into your ass.

He continues. “I thought for a long time about all the different ways I could do this, because you deserve something spectacular. But, I got tired of waiting for an idea that felt good enough and I just want you. So…” He trails off, digs in his pocket, pushes something square and velvet into your hands.

“Jin,” you whisper, heart pounding. It feels right, somehow, that it’s happening like this. Just you and him, the apartment - the world - silent around you, speaking quietly through the dark.

It’s always been you and Seokjin, in the dark.

“So,” he continues, like if he stops he’ll lose his nerve, “I want to ask you… if you want to get married. If you’ll marry me.”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Yes.”

He wraps you in a hug, and you say, muffled by his shirt, “Can we go back in the light so I can see the ring?”

Later, he sends you a sly sideways smile. “You know my sister’s going to spot that before she’s even through the door.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Maybe I’ll keep my hands in my pockets all night, just so I don’t have to hear her.”

He bumps you lightly with his hip so you’ll look up at him. “Are you happy?” he asks quietly.

You think about everything you’ve been through - a lifetime of wanting, years of misunderstanding, and over a year between figuring it out and now. Finally, finally, everything has aligned, every piece in place.

“Never been happier,” you tell him, resting a hand on his heart.

“Good,” he says, leaning down to kiss your temple. “Let’s stay that way for a long, long time.”

–

“No, you hang up first!” Minji squealed for the ninth time, before blowing many kisses into the phone and finally hanging up with her boyfriend. She was twenty, in love, and had somehow lost you from her bedroom during the course of the phone call.

Calling your name quietly, she’d left her bedroom, typing a text to you as she peered into each of the rooms of the house, even the basement where Jungkook and his friends were still drinking.

“Don’t get alcohol poisoning,” she warned them. “Has anyone seen Y/N?”

Finally, she decided you must have gone home and started padding back to her bedroom, sending you one more angry text to find in the morning.

As she passed Seokjin’s room, she noticed his door was open about a foot. She stepped closer, just meaning to pull it closed - they did that for each other if they fell asleep with it open, it was just muscle-memory at that point - and then froze.

You were in Seokjin’s bed, fast asleep, curled up facing the door. For a second, she thought you were alone, but then she spotted Jin’s arm over your belly, his shoulders peeking out from behind yours.

She bit her lip, staring, silent. In his sleep, Seokjin’s arm flexed against you, and Minji watched as you instinctively reached up to touch his arm, butterfly light, before letting your hand fall back to the mattress again.

She closed the door quietly, continued down the hall to her own room.

She knew better than to interfere, knew better than to meddle and mess it up. But still...

Maybe someday, she thought. Maybe someday you’d figure it out.

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wow i can't believe it's over!! thank you so much for being here along the way - i know this was very different from my normal and i hope you had a really fun time reading! <3

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