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[adragonprinceswhore]

Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)Wife

Chapter III: Dreams 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: You miss Aemond, yet you can’t stand to be near him. Will performing a new song about your separation make you feel better?

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, angst, toxic relationship dynamic, possessive Aemond, fighting, smut, oral (f receiving), spanking, thigh riding, P in V, thumb in bum, spit kink, degradation

Word count: 5750 A/N: Thank you always my love @theoneeyedprince ♡

“This is the third day in a row that guy comes in here, orders a coffee, and pretends to work on his laptop as he stares at you”, Alysanne whispers in your ear and points to the silver haired man sitting in the back corner of the campus coffee shop. 

He’s clad entirely in black, and his long hair is neatly tied in a low bun at the base of his neck. 

“You should go talk to him!”, she urges with a gentle push on your shoulder. 

“What? No. He’s not been staring at me”, you shut her nonsense down, slightly embarrassed by your friend's pushiness. Alysanne is such a hopeless romantic; always convinced that the love of your life’s lurking around the next corner, constantly looking for a ‘meet cute’ to thrust you into. 

“Oh, come on! He’s definitely been checking you out! Maybe he’s just shy?”, she argues, staring at the stranger unabashedly as he sips his coffee. Her lack of discretion fuels the nerves bubbling inside you, eager to end this embarrassing conversation as soon as possible. 

“Aly, please. A guy like that doesn’t get shy. Typical rich fuckboy”

He certainly is good-looking, and probably knows it as well, dark designer clothes a stark contrast to the surrounding patron’s jeans and sweatshirts. He looks to be around your age, a student as well, you’d guess. 

Alysanne hums in response, moves to stand by the display of sweets by the register, and places a cinnamon bun on one of the small dishes stacked on the counter. 

Before your protests stop her, she walks towards where the stranger is sitting, a wide smile plastered on her face, 

“Hi there! My lovely friend and coworker over there made these earlier today. Would you like one?” 

Her voice is unnaturally cheery as she places the dish on the table next to the stranger's laptop. 

He looks up, nods stiffly in confirmation, and quietly mumbles a “thank you” before quickly returning to type on the keyboard, eyes again on the screen. 

“Would you like to talk to her? I can ask her to come over here”, Alysanne offers, voice still upbeat, so energetic it nearly comes across as intrusive.   

The stranger seems slightly thrown off by her forwardness. He looks up at her in surprise, but stays silent. 

To anyone else, his stoicism and unfriendly demeanour would be enough reason to leave him be. But not Alysanne, who turns around to catch your eye and gesticulates for you to come over with an exaggerated wave of her hand. 

From behind the register, you’d watched the scene unfold in horror, certain that your friend would embarrass you to the point where ‘rich fuckboy’ would tell everyone on campus about what a freak you are. 

You slowly make your way over, eyes boring holes into Alysanne as you force yourself to smile, dreading the inevitable faked  niceties you’ll have to exchange with the strange, silver-haired man. 

His face is even prettier up-close. 

High cheekbones, strong jawline, sharp nose, beautiful eye- 

Your gaze stops at his left eye. The baby blue iris is covered by a thin mist of white, and a red, angry scar slashes through the socket, starting at his forehead and ending at cheekbone. 

“Hope you like it”, you blurt out, trying to grab Alysanne’s hand and tug her away from the unbelievably awkward interaction. She’s still smiling, dodging your hand while her attention stays on the stranger in front of you, 

“Would you like her number?”

Alysanne persistence causes dread to pool in your gut. God, she could be so forward it was disturbing; completely ignoring what you thought to be common social decency. 

Your heart is hammering in your chest as the stranger hums at your friend’s question, 

“Actually, I wanted to ask you about the open mic last week. Did you write that song?” 

“‘Planets of the Universe’? Um, yes, but it’s not really finished, um, I mean, I just sang it for fun, I was kinda drunk last Friday..”

Your babbling reflects how the stranger makes you feel; nervous and unsure. His face is impassive, and his tone so unemotional it borders on stern. 

You only performed that silly song because your friends were pushy and you were buzzing on way too many margaritas. Why does he care about who wrote it? 

“You’re not a guitarist, I assume?”, he asks and you notice the corners of his lips briefly turn upwards, as if to prevent a smile from breaking out. 

God, the audacity of this rich fuckboy. 

“No, but like I said, it was just for fun”, you bite back. 

You don’t care for his condescending tone, or his efforts to make you feel bad about your sub-par guitar skills. Does he not understand what ‘just for fun’ means? 

The stranger’s gaze is still locked on you as he hums in response. He stares with an intensity that leaves you feeling even more unsettled. 

“You’ve got a very unique voice” 

The unexpected compliment takes you by surprise, and a warmth spreads over your face; heating up your cheeks. 

“My siblings and I play a bit of music on the side, for fun” he says with an emphasis on the last part, mimicking you, “I think your voice would go well with the sound we’re trying to create”

He sounds very matter-of-fact, like he’s offering you a business proposal. You notice something shine in his intense gaze; something inviting that makes it hard for you to concentrate on what he says. 

“The song you performed has great potential, with a proper guitarist backing you up, that is. If you’re interested, we’re meeting up tomorrow night” 

You’re briefly lost for words, not expecting him to be so forward. Alysanne is practically vibrating with excitement next to you, glancing over at you with a wide smile and big, expectant eyes. 

“Sure, I’ll stop by after work” 

Your infatuation with Aemond started slow. 

Essentially, it was the small things he did that pushed you to the realisation that he isn’t just some ‘rick fuckboy’, but a quite caring and sensitive man. Albeit with a layer of stoicism obscuring his more tender side. 

Things like him insisting that he needs to walk you home after band practice, even if it’s still bright outside. Or him picking you up in his car when it rains, so you ‘don’t catch a cold’. Or him offering to help you with coursework, surprising you with detailed, hand-written notes tucked in between the pages of your textbook. 

Aemond is caring in such a genuine way, always asking you how your studies are going, how work at the campus cafe is like, if you’d eaten anything. Always straight-to-the-point. And when you answer, he listens to you with such intensity, you’d think whatever comes out of your mouth is of grave importance. For the most part, it’s not. 

You soon find yourself looking forward to seeing him, heart skipping a beat every time he picks you up after you've finished your shift at the cafe. He always waited outside of the cafe, observing you tidying up through the shop window with a cigarette glowing between his fingers. 

When he asks you one day if you’d like to grab dinner after practice, you eagerly accept his invitation, trying your hardest to hide the excitement you feel as he says a quick goodbye to his brother and sister before leading you out of the studio you used for practice. 

It’s not a date, not really, yet when you sit next to Aemond in that dimly lit booth at the rather posh Yi-Ti-inspired restaurant he’d picked, it sure feels like one. 

That night, after sharing a bottle of wine, your face is warm and you’re filled with alcohol-infused confidence. As you talk animatedly about your favourite musician, Aemond regards you with a small smile playing on his lips, eyes intensely meeting yours to take in all your telling him. You feel a sudden urge to kiss him, and though it is chaste and unplanned; a result of your slight intoxication, you feel mortified as you pull back, ready to apologise for placing your lips on his without consent. Before you have a chance, he places a hand on your cheek and pulls your face back towards his, kissing you passionately, though his lips are soft and gentle. 

As you pull away, eyes still closed and mind lost in the bliss of your first kiss, you hear Aemond murmur a quiet “finally”. 

As a partner, Aemond seems to study you just as diligently as he studies everything else. 

He quickly picks up on your favourite things.  

If you’d been admiring a particular flower when you passed by the flower shop on your way to campus, you’d later find a bouquet waiting for you at home. When you went to museums and exhibitions together, he’d lean in next to you, one hand gently on your waist and soft lips right by your ear, and tell you everything he knew about the artist or artwork in front of you. Later, he’d buy you postcards of the paintings you’d shown particular fascination with, so you could decorate your bedroom wall with them. 

Though he claimed that his knowledge of the arts simply stemmed from being a history major, explaining that “art is one of the greatest insights we have to previous decades”, you have a strong suspicion he actually knows so much because there’s a secret love for the arts tucked away inside him, where he keeps the more sensitive parts of his soul. 

Sometimes you’re privy to that too. 

Like the time he wanted to take you out to a fancy restaurant downtown to celebrate your six month anniversary. Being a student, you didn’t really have money to spend on anything besides rent and food, meaning that you hadn’t been able to reciprocate the lovely gifts Aemond had given you since you first got together. 

Determined to give him something meaningful, you purchase a small frame from the local charity shop, print out some pictures you’d taken together from the university library, and put together a little collage of your time as a couple. 

You include a message on the back of it, thanking him for everything he’s done for you; for being such a caring boyfriend. 

As you timidly hand him your homemade gift at the luxurious restaurant, you feel a storm of unease swirl within you, suddenly overcome with embarrassment that you couldn’t get him anything nicer. 

Aemond’s eyes light up in a way you’d hardly seen before. 

He turns the gift over in his hand, admiring the photo collage and reading the little message on the back. 

Grabbing your hand, he looks into your eyes and says a quiet “thank you”, and the gravity and sincerity of his voice lets you know that he appreciates the simple gift more than he can put into words. 

The coming week you stick to the same set list; kicking off each performance with ‘The Chain’ and finishing with ‘Go Your Own Way’. You’d like to pretend that the performances got easier as time went on, but that would be a lie. 

Each night, you’re forced to sing Aemond’s self-pitying words; ‘if I could, I’d give you my world’. You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes each time. What made him incapable of ‘giving you his world’ when you were married? He made it sound like he had no part in your divorce; like all he did was try and love you while you broke his heart. 

Fuck that. 

He broke your heart. And he kept breaking it. Every fucking night he made you sing his martyr complex bullshit. 

It wasn’t anything new, not really. This is how it so often went when you fought as a married couple, it had just taken a new form. The bones of it are the same; Aemond is upset and shuts you out, you try to reason with him and get burnt. 

There’s something about his attitude when you find yourselves in a fight. He could turn so condescending, berating you for your emotions. Like he’s better than you for not letting them get the best of him; for not shouting or crying. 

He thinks showing that something hurts him is a sign of weakness. That he’s too smart to let his insecurities and doubts overtake his senses. So he can pretend he doesn’t feel such unbecoming emotions. 

Even when they prove too strong to push down. 

Aemond has been quiet for the entire trip back home, jaw shut tight and eyes refusing to meet yours. 

You know something’s off in the way his usual stoicism doesn’t feel natural, but forced. He’s holding something back, keeping something from you, and you can’t figure it out for the life of you. 

As you enter your flat, he finally breaks the silence. 

“Did you like that?”

His voice is colder than you’re used to. You recognise the tone though, from when he’s had enough of Aegon’s endless shenanigans. 

You step out of your heels and turn around to face him, “Like what? The party?”

His face is set in a frown and he irritably clicks his tongue at your obliviousness, 

“You know what I mean, don’t play dumb” 

You really have no idea what could’ve prompted his sour mood, so you stay quiet, waiting for him to continue. You don’t feel like playing these games with him; they won’t lead anywhere. 

If he’d just tell you what made him upset, you could solve the issue and move on.  

He sighs at the lack of answer, “You liked all that attention, didn’t you?”  

Oh. 

He’s jealous. 

“Oh come on, Aemond, this is great for the band! We’re getting recognition! We’re recording our first album!”

You don’t want him to rob you off the excitement you’d felt today, talking to one of Westeros biggest record labels and finally getting the recognition you’d worked so hard for. 

He turns to face you, features still stern as he backs you into the wall, 

“But did you like it? The way that guy from the record label was eyeing you?”, he asks again. 

You know Aemond has a tendency to get protective of you; fussing over you and insisting that you listen to him. And when he’s caring, and when you feel anxious, it feels comforting to have someone protect you so fiercely. But you’re not a child, and he doesn’t have to treat you as one. 

“Why would I like it?”

Your challenge makes him move closer. You see the way his pupil is blown wide, the heat in his gaze radiating off him. 

“I think you did. I think you enjoy the attention”

It’s almost laughable; the fact that Aemond Targaryen, undoubtedly one of the most alluring people you’ve ever met, feels threatened by some sleazy guy from a record label. How could he think some guy flirting with you would affect your affection for him even in the slightest? 

Still, there’s something intriguing about the dark look in his eye. It’s so passionate; the way he observes you. Like he wants to devour you. Punish you. Claim you. 

It sparks something alight inside you. You want to match his fire.  

“Maybe I did”

You have to bite your lip to prevent a smirk from breaking out. Will he fall for the provocation? 

Aemond’s eyes narrow. They travel from your face down to your body, and his arms come up to cage you against the wall of your hallway, 

“You like tormenting me, is that it?”, he asks lowly and presses the tip of his nose to the side of your face, trailing it down your cheek. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, lowering your lips to press kisses onto his neck, 

“Yes”, you say against his skin, a light chuckle escaping your lips. 

It’s almost cute when he gets like this, and so flattering in the most twisted way. He’s just as enchanted by you as you are by him. 

He startles you by pulling away, grabbing you by your waist and flipping your body so you’re suddenly facing the wall. 

He rucks up the short skirt of your cocktail dress with much more force than necessary and a firm smack lands on your ass. The sudden sting of pain makes you inhale sharply and you feel your pulse elevate with excitement.  

Behind you, Aemond drops to his knees, kisses your stinging backside, and pulls at the flimsy material of your thong until it tears in two, falling to the floor. 

His insatiable display causes desire to pulse within you; an ache that nestles itself between your thighs and beats as fast as your heart. 

Pushing on your lower back, he urges you to lean forward as he continues to soothe the aching flesh of your ass with sweet kisses. 

The chill air of the room feels strange against your hot, wet cunt, and you wish he’d touch you in the place you needed him most. The place that painfully pounds with want for him. 

As if he could read your mind, Aemond grabs the front of your thighs with his large, warm hands and he presses his face against your exposed cunt, unwilling to waste any more time as he swipes his tongue over your swollen clit. 

You moan in gratitude and your forehead falls to make contact with the wall in front of you, the sweat of your forehead sticking to the cool surface. 

He knows exactly how to work you; how to make you squirm and tense up and reach your peak in no time. 

With each movement of his tongue against your clit, you feel your peak grow closer; an embarrassingly fast release only your beloved could elicit. 

As you lose yourself in the pleasure, and your hips begin to move in tandem with Aemond’s tongue, his debauched kisses lessen, and he pulls away from your cunt, wiping his sticky face against the back of your thigh. 

You let out a frustrated whine, turn around to face him, and look down at him, still on his knees. 

“That’s just cruel, Aemond”

He looks so beautiful kneeling in front of you, long hair dishevelled and cheeks flustered pink. 

“Maybe I like tormenting you as well”

He still has that darkness dancing in his eyes, but now accompanied by the playful grin that’s spreading across his face. He stands, leans in so closely your body gets pushed against the wall behind you, and places one of his legs between your naked thighs, 

“Beg me to fuck you”

He rocks his jeans-clad thigh against your exposed core as he makes his demand; blue colour quickly darkening from the stain of your arousal. 

You throw your head back and moan at the pleasurable friction, the harshness of the fabric providing wonderful relief to your aching clit. Your hips quickly meet the rhythm of his thigh, and when he lowers his face to bite at your nipple through the thin material of your dress, you feel your previously denied release approach once more. 

You move yourself more forcefully against his thigh, and as your movements turn sloppy from pleasure tightening inside you, he pulls away yet again.  

You know you look like a mess with your hair frizzy from the friction of the wall, spit covering the fabric over your nipple, and the lower part of your body fully exposed; inner thighs sticky from arousal. 

“Aemond, please”, you whine as he straightens up, face wholly entertained by your miserable state. 

“Beg me to fuck you”, he repeats, this time slower and with emphasis on each word. 

You bite your lip and look at him. You can see the hardness of his cock straining against his jeans, but you know he’ll never relent; never give you what you want until you give him what he wants. 

“Please”, you plead, hands moving forward his zipper to undo his trousers. 

He tuts and slaps your hands away, 

“Beg”, he repeats, face returning to its previous, stern expression. 

You’d like to think you’re as good as him at playing these games. But you’re not. You don’t have the patience. 

“Please fuck me Aemond. Please make me come, please make me feel good, please stretch me out on your cock, please-” 

Your pathetic surrender is cut off by his lips on yours, kissing you passionately, stealing your breath. 

Pulling down his zipper, he takes his length in hand; rock hard and glistening with arousal. He pushes your body up against the wall and you quickly catch on, wrapping your legs around him as he enters you in one swift motion. 

“Fuck! Thank you!”, you cry out when he finally gives you what you want, and an amused snort espaces his nose. 

Aemond wastes no time in ravishing you and sets a brutal pace, pelvis repeatedly hitting your clit as his cock hits your g-spot. You’re unable to do much more than to just take it; take the mind-numbing pleasure he’s forcing upon you. 

For the third time, your peak is within reach, so close your cunt starts to tighten around Aemond’s cock. To your dismay, his pace slows, and you’re back to begging,  

“Please, I’m so close. Please let me come Aemond”

He pulls out, smiles at the devastated frown on your face, and turns you around once more. 

This time, he presses your body against the small side table by the front door, pushing his hand on the back of your head so that the side of your face makes contact with the wooden surface, ass prettily propped up and glistening entrance waiting for him. 

He presses the slick tip of his cock against your leaking hole, and pauses without entering. His large form looms over you as his hand reaches for your face, thumb stroking your lower lip, pulling it down to reveal your teeth, 

“Who do you belong to?”

His voice is lower, and calmer, than before. You look up at him; at his lust-filled eyes and kiss-swollen lips. 

You. Always you.

“You” 

Aemond’s thumb is still on your lower lip. He leans down and pushes his length fully into you again, making you let out a cry in blissful relief. 

God it feels so good. 

You see him purse his lips together, spit collecting between them, and he slowly lets it drip down to where his thumb is. 

Onto your lower lip, your tongue, your teeth. 

He smears his spit around your lips and tongue with his thumb, pace of his hips picking up to thrust into you harder. The table beneath you rocks against the wall aggressively loud. 

“Would you let anyone else fuck you like this?”, he asks, trailing his spit-soaked thumb down your body, stopping between your asscheeks to push at your puckered hole. “Never”, you assure, moaning as he pushes his thumb in, never ceasing the pace he’s set as he fucks you on the table. “Didn’t think so. You’re my little slut. Mine. No one else will ever see you as fucking cockdrunk as I do”

Maybe it’s the heat of his tone. The dark, possessive passion that excites you, even in its volatility. 

Maybe it’s the way he knows your body. How he can turn you into a begging, pathetic mess by the briefest of touches. 

It’s hard to decipher what makes your orgasm feel so utterly consuming, but when it hits, and your body shakes from the force of it, you know that no one else will ever have this effect on you. 

You. Always you.

You’ve made it a habit to go back to your hotel room between the sound check and the show, not able to bear spending more time around Aemond than absolutely necessary. 

Both of you had tried to keep up with the cordial act, but even Erryk had started to catch on to how forced each of your interactions felt. Whenever you or Aemond addressed the other, everyone around you tense up and the air feels thick; like you’re all just waiting for what’s bubbling beneath the surface to finally erupt. 

Tonight, as you’re getting ready for the tour’s fifth stop in White Harbor, no amount of breathing exercises seem to lessen your nerves, making your hands clammy and heart flimmer in anxious anticipation. 

You’re finally going to perform one of your new songs for Rumours. 

What if the fans hate it? 

Writing has helped you deal with the aftermath of your separation; a tedious effort to make the painful end of your relationship into something meaningful. A song about lost love. 

What if it sounds awful live? 

Recording separately means that this will be the first time the band actually plays the song, as opposed to each member recording their own part in solitude. 

The song sounded good in post-production. It’ll sound great live too.

You try to repeat the comforting phrase to yourself as you spot Aemond and Alys in your peripheral vision; her arms around his neck, his lips coming down to brush against her cheek. 

You don’t know if you’d rather barf or cry at the display, but when Aemond’s seeing eye briefly searches for yours, your stomach turns in disgust.

The intro of your new song starts to play; upbeat drums accompanied by a melancholic guitar melody. Aemond plays it flawlessly, just like you knew he would.

This is it. Your time to shine; to actualise the pain that’s been wearing you down for the past months. To make it into something that means something. 

Your music.

‘Now there you go again, you say, you want your freedom’

‘Well who am I to keep you down?’ 

You don’t want to look at Aemond, don’t want to mimic the staring contest he challenges you to each time he sings ‘The Chain’ or ‘Go Your Own Way’. 

You’re not doing this for him, you’re doing this for yourself. To make sense of the suffering he’s caused you. You’re doing it for the fans; all those who can resonate with what you’re singing.

‘But listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness’

‘Like a heartbeat drives you mad in the stillness of remembering what you had’

‘And what you lost’

Oh but gods, do you want to throw him a quick glance though. 

See hurt in his eye. 

See his jaw tick in anger at your words. 

‘Thunder only happens when it’s raining’ 

‘Players only love you when they’re playing’ 

Now you understand why he wanted you to do backup vocals on his new songs. You feel so powerful as you make him sing your lyrics, a sudden rush of hubris getting the best of you as you steal a glance of him.

‘They say women, they will come and they will go’

‘When the rain washes you clean, you’ll know’ 

You’re disappointed to find him in his usual state, stoic face turned away from you.

The recent rage-filled, passionate tone his voice had adopted is gone. He sounds just as calm and precise as he usually does. 

‘Now here I go again, I see the crystal vision’

‘I keep my visions to myself’

‘It’s only me who wants to wrap around your dreams’

‘Have you any dreams you’d like to sell?’

‘Dreams of loneliness like a heartbeat drives you mad’

‘In the stillness of remembering what you had’

‘And what you lost’

Like the previous nights, you’re in a rush to get back to your hotel room as soon as the show ends. 

As are your bandmates; no one really enjoys the tension that seems to be a permanent feature whenever you are all in the same room. 

As you’re about to jump into a taxi with Helaena outside of the venue, you realise that you forgot the tote bag you keep your notebooks and music sheets in backstage. You tell her to go ahead and quickly make your way back to retrieve your forgotten bag. 

A security guard lets you back in and you spot your tote immediately, laying on one of the many cheap fold-out tables lining the walls of the room. As you make your way towards it, you hear someone clear their throat in the other corner of the room. 

You’ve no idea what he wants, but you turn around in an instance, leaving your bag on the table. 

Aemond is sitting by himself in a dark corner of the large room, stomping out a cigarette onto the silver ashtray he's holding in his left hand. He places it on the ground and leans back in his seat, 

“I never said that, you know”. 

His voice is low. He sounds tired. 

“Said what?”

You’re still sadistically disappointed by the fact that he’d acted so indifferent during your performance of ‘Dreams’, and it reflects in your voice. He has a talent of bringing it out of you.

“I never said ‘women come and go’, or whatever. The reporter said it” 

His voice grows more irksome with each word, matching yours. 

Sure, he hadn’t said it. But he might as well have. 

“Whatever, Aemond”, you sigh, too tired to engage in pointless discussion with him. You turn to leave, reaching for your bag, but he stops you once again,  

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t perform that song again”.

You let out a startled, joy-less laugh at his audacity, “Too bad”

“Then change the lyrics. It’s obviously about our… relationship” 

You can sense strain in his voice. He’s holding something back.

Maybe you finally got to him.

“So are your new songs”, you counter. 

He is such a hypocrite, it’s almost laughable. An unbecoming characteristic of his that reared its ugly head more frequently as your relationship got worse. 

“I never say they are though. You’re quoting me, hard to assume it could be about anyone else”

His voice is low and dark, you have to focus to properly hear him. 

“Thought you didn’t say that?”

You have to bite the inside of your lower lip to keep yourself from grinning as you add, 

“Maybe the song is about the reporter?” 

The provocation works. Aemond swiftly stands up, seeing eye dark and threatening as his voice grows louder, 

“My songs aren’t filled with blatant lies, you’re calling me names and shit” 

His nostrils are flaring as he breathes heavily, hand flexing in an attempt to stifle his rage. 

You’d got to him. 

“You can’t be for real, Aemond! Every fucking time you perform your new songs you're staring at me on stage, singing about how I can ‘go my own, lonely way’! You have no right dictating what I write or how I express myself”. 

He’d gotten to you too. You can’t hide your irritation any longer, a whole week being in his insufferable presence proving to be too much.  

It’s his turn to throw a condescending laugh your way. 

“Well, you’re the one who kept going on about how lonely you were”

Back when you were still together, when the fights had became a permanent, unavoidable recurrence, you had accused Aemond of never truly letting you in, leaving you feeling lonely in your relationship. 

But there’s a difference between feeling disconnected from your partner, and being unable to be on your own. 

“You couldn’t be alone for a second, Aemond, that’s how fucking lonely you are. How long did it take you to hook up with Alys? 3 days!?”

“Because you left me!”, he shouts back. 

And there it is; the anger that he pretends he doesn't have within himself. The ugly, raw emotion he thinks he’s too good to let overtake his senses. 

His voice isn’t cold anymore. 

His face isn’t indifferent. 

His eyes shine with heartbreak, but so do yours. 

“You chased me away with your fucking obsessive behaviour! You deserved to be left!” 

Sometimes when you fought when you were married, you’d hold yourself back, still trying to protect Aemond’s feelings to some degree by not purposefully hurting him just because you were angry. 

Not anymore. 

He grimaces slightly at your words and you feel a sick sense of satisfaction.

He deserves it. 

You can’t bear to look at him, and you can’t hear anything either, heartbeat thumping in your ears so loudly it’s giving you a headache. 

If you stay, and see that the fire in his eye has been extinguished by regret, you might cave in. 

You can’t. 

So you turn around, grab your bag in a haste and storm out of the door, rushing to get hold of a taxi on the busy street by the venue. 

You hold it together in the car ride to the hotel. You thank the driver and offer him a tip, you enter the building and go to the elevator, smile at an elderly couple who engage you in some polite smalltalk about the weather. 

It’s not until you enter your hotel room and lock the door behind you that you allow the tears to fall. 

They seem endless, and all you want to do is crawl into bed and sleep. 

Seeing the empty space, the empty bed, makes you feel so lonely a stinging pain goes through your chest. You're pulled back to the memories of living with Aemond, coming back home to him; sleeping in the same bed as him. 

You miss him so much it hurts. Not the person you’d just had a fight with backstage. You miss the Aemond he was before; your Aemond. 

You think about the Aemond in the museum, who’d tell you about the history of the Water Gardens and Prince Maron Martell.

You think about the Aemond that kissed your forehead before each show. 

You think about the Aemond that loved you. 

You go to your closet, stretch your arm all the way to the back, and search for what you know to be there. Your hand finds the soft sweatshirt and you pull it out from the dark corners of your hotel room closet, quickly pulling off all of your clothes until you’re standing in nothing but your underwear. 

Aemond’s uni hoodie still smells like him. You cry harder, uglier, as you put it on, burying your nose in the fabric and inhaling deeply. 

Maybe the Aemond you miss still exists in your dreams. 

You get under the duvet, nose still nuzzled in the soft fabric and body shaking from the violent sobs leaving your body, and fall asleep.

A/N: Before you ask, no. She doesn’t know if Aemond met Alys exactly three days after their separation. She’s exaggerating for emphasis, as one often does when fighting. The point is that he “moved on” suspiciously fast.

Planets of the Universe is a demo song that never made it onto Rumours, but it so good; very raw and real. TY for reading 🩵

[chrisevansonly]

Max wanting to spoil you with jewelry but you do not allow him too

Max’s Princess

max verstappen x female reader

summary: max loves to spoil you…the problem? he has to do it secretly

warnings: none very sweet maxie

a/n: these are so fun, idk why i’m so much better at blurbs rn but i’m working on some longer fics i promise 🥰

No.

The one word Max loathed coming from your lips as the two of you went anywhere near shopping malls, designer stores and jewellers around Monaco. It didn’t matter what he did, he couldn’t get you to cave, you’d always been more independent with money and financials, and Max well…

Let’s just say he wanted you to have the princess treatment…always.

So he had to find a creative way to spoil you like he’s always wanted, and that came in the form of being secretive and letting you come home to designer boxes and bags, leaving no room for argument or disagreement.

“Max?!”

Ah yes, there it was, the yell of shock that always came from you when Max did anything remotely close to shopping for you. He guessed you had found the bags from Dior, Van Cleef, Cartier, APM Monaco and Gucci, all placed neatly on the dining room table.

“Hello my love…”

“Don’t ‘my love’ me, what in the world is this!!”

Max smiled, coming over to take your purse from you, setting it down before his hands went to rest on your shoulders.

“This is just a little something for you”

“A little something?! This is thousands of dollars!”

Max couldn’t help but laugh as if that meant anything to him, as soon as you were about to open your mouth, he stopped you by pressing a kiss to your lips.

He wasn’t in the mood to hear anything else from you.

“I love you, so much and you work so at work everyday, for me…keeping this house looking as beautiful as it does and for supporting me during my racing seasons, and even when i leave for training.”

He paused to hold your face gently in his hands

“You deserve the world, and even if I have to give you it in secret, and can’t yet spoil you the way I want, i’ll keep doing it because you deserve every ounce of this”

You’ll admit it was a sweet gesture and the things he’d gotten you whether it be clothes, handbags, jewelry and that time he bought you you’re dream car were gifts you’d been so thankful for. At the end of the day, Max giving his heart to you was the greatest gift of all.

“Thank you Max…I love everything you give me…but I love you more”

Kissing him once more you were quick to pull him into a hug, relaxing into his hold. Even if Max had to keep spoiling you in secret, he knew deep down you loved every second of it. Just as he loved having the chance to love you like he did, and that was something that would never change.

You were his princess, and he wasn’t afraid to show it.

[swordsandholly]

Across The Way

Ch. 2: And So It Begins

Retired!Ghoap x fem!plus size!Reader

MDNI

Ao3 | Previous - Next

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: You go to Scotland with high hopes for your future. After all, you have the bakery you always dreamed of and a whole new life to live. Plus, the men who own the butcher’s shop across the street seem nice.

A/N: I got this out a lot faster than I thought I would. Hopefully my work doesn’t get too insane and I can get the next out in a timely manner - it’s going to be a bigger one!

“You were right.” Simon carefully cuts through the loaf with a serrated knife. He’s never lost his skill with them, despite their uses becoming increasingly more domestic over the years. It’s charming, in a way - the juxtaposition of where they started and where they are now.

“Right about whit?” Johnny asks.

“She is a pretty little thing.”

“Donnae tell me I need tae be worried about ye sneakin’ off at work.” He jokes. Simon would never, of course, but it’s fun to see the way his cheeks heat up at the implication. Without his mask he wears every expression with reckless abandon.

Simon settles his large frame into the seat across from Johnny at the dining table. It’s small, they don’t need much. The chairs always creak under Simon’s weight in an almost threatening fashion. He pushes a plate with two pieces of the bread and some eggs over to Johnny. There’s an odd tug in his chest when he picks up the slice - an urge to be gentle as he spreads butter over it. Gentility is not a compulsion he feels often.

“S’good.” Simon mutters around his bite.

Johnny nods along after taking one himself. There’s love in it - he can tell. A piece carefully crafted with only absolute perfection in mind. How strange that food can carry such a feeling.

“Was a wee bit worried we’d be stuck across from the nicest, worst baker in the world.” He mutters.

Simon huffs out a half laugh.

~~~

Your first week goes by in a blur. For a small town they sure do manage to keep you busy. It’s good, you remind yourself. Better than none. If you keep it up at this rate you’ll be able to hire help by the end of the summer quarter.

By Monday, the first day of your “weekend”, you’re overdone. Head dizzy and body exhausted, you spend the day in bed. It’s a gratifying exhaustion, one you hope to build more of a tolerance for. As of now, though, you elect to remain deeply buried under the covers.

When you wake for a second time the sun is already near setting again. The entirety of Monday slunk by with you in bed. You grumble to yourself angrily like an old man. You wanted to unpack today - to at least get your clothes and kitchen items put away.

“Stupid.” You grouse. At least you still have time to shower, you suppose.

As you stand the world blacks out for a moment, your body swaying in place. You allow yourself to fall back on the bed, sitting while your vision slowly comes back into focus. Blinking away black dots and off squiggles that dance across your eyes. On attempt number two you manage it, making your way to the bathroom.

The work is worth it. The pain is worth it.

This is what you always wanted, after all.

You are happy. You can feel it in your bones. They’re lighter than they used to be - your whole body thrums with excited energy even as you have to lower yourself with the upmost care into the shower seat. Even as you have to scrape one of the cheap fold out chairs you managed to get over to the stove while you cook a late night dinner. Thank god for low counters.

When you were arranging your schedule it took a while to get it perfected. To compensate for your body you have to have time to rest and be able to do a lot of baking preparation before the work week starts. Monday and Tuesday are for rest. Wednesdays are for prep. The shop is closed but you’re in the back working your ass off mixing and kneading and shaping doughs. As well as practicing new recipes you want to add to the store’s line up eventually. Your goal is to sell American biscuits, preferably in batches of six, but those take a lot of work and don’t keep as long. They’ll have to wait until you have hired help.

It’s all chance and whatever you can manage to make happen. You learned to be okay with that, though.

You’ve got plenty of spoons, you tell yourself. Just need to use them wisely.

When you finally close the fridge, now fully stocked with dough ready to proof and bake, you check the clock. It’s still the early afternoon. You finished sooner than you assumed you might. The thought makes you giddy - makes you feel accomplished.

It makes you feel normal.

As you exit into the warm spring sun you take a moment. Ever since you arrived you haven’t been able to just stop. To just take everything in - let the foreign air fill your lungs and the aura of the town sink into your bones.

It’s a lovely little main street that you’re located on. The building to your left is a large family owned pharmacy (very convenient for you) and to your right is an empty brick building. It looks like a former post office, but from what you know the current post office is a few blocks down beside the grocers. It’s quaint, the lot of it.

Your eyes settle on the shop across from yours housed in a simple brick building painted white. The upstairs is an apartment much like yours, you think, but from what you know it currently remains empty. The sign above the door reads A Cut Above the Rest. You wonder if that was Simon or Johnny’s doing.

Would it be weird to go in? You suppose not, after all they came to yours. It’s only fair you give them some patronage as well. Plus you need to ask how the bread was. Hopefully they liked it - you realized halfway through the night that you didn’t even ask if they like sourdough before shoving it into their hands.

That thought kept you up later than you’d like to admit.

You look both ways down the street. This particular spot doesn’t have a crosswalk but the road is so dead even when the downtown is busy you figure it’s worth risking. The lack of danger doesn’t stop you from fast-walking across, though.

The shop’s old-fashioned door bell chimes prettily as you push it open. For a butcher it smells extremely clean - almost clinical. It’s small, with an L shaped display counter and a register at the end nearest the door. Packages of sausage links and the like hang on displays across the back wall. Beside the wooden saloon doors that lead behind the counter is a little dog bed with a very well crafted name plate reading Riley hanging right above it.

So cute.

“Afternoon.” Simon appears from the back, wiping his hands on a rag. You jump a little, so lost in taking in your surroundings you forgot what you came here for.

“H-hi!” You smile. You forgot how intimidating Simon is. His gaze levels you - pins you underneath him like a fly under a swatter. Maybe that’s a bit dramatic. “I thought I’d come check your shop out and ask how the bread was?”

“It was good.” He replies bluntly. Totally monotone. The corners of his eyes crinkle ever so slightly. You decide that’s it’s a smile - whether that’s the reality of his expression or not.

“It’s really nice in here.” You look around. There isn’t much for decoration. The walls are too covered in menus and diagrams of cuts to leave room for anything extra. There’s a shelf of odds and ends opposite the main counter full of high end mustards and condiments. Little things to go with whatever you could think to make out of the varieties of meat they offer.

“Thanks.” Simon nods. “One moment.”

You watch with curiosity and a slight frown as he makes his way into the back. He almost has to duck under the doorway. Old buildings with low ceilings and all that. The place definitely wasn’t made with a six foot plus behemoth in mind. You continue to look around, rocking back and forth on your heels. They have a perfect score on their inspectors plaque. You might not know Simon well, but he seems the type to be absolutely precise about everything. The score doesn’t surprise you.

Yours is almost perfect - some rules are different here than in the US. Next time, you swear you’ll get it top notch! You look across the street at your shop. You wonder if you made the wrong choice with The Honey Bun. It’s bit much now that you see it from afar but it still makes you smile. That’s what matters, you guess.

Simon comes back out with a small, nicely wrapped package. “You don’t ‘ave any dietary restrictions d’you?”

You shake your head and he pushes the package toward you. Your eyes widen - it’s a great cut of high end beef. Like, really good beef as far as you know. Something you’d never be able to afford even if your business wasn’t brand new. You stare between Simon and the little pack in your hands. “Th-this is so nice but I-“

“It’s only fair.” He cuts you off. “Neighbors, yeah?”

You can’t help the grin that splits your face, eyes misting up despite yourself. Kindness has not been a constant in your life - more of a rarity. Something you had to claw and fight to earn. Being given it so freely but such a taciturn man has you reeling just a bit.

“Thank you… I’ve got to head back but, uh, thank you. Really.” You press the small package to your chest. “Tell Johnny I said hi?”

“Course.” He nods.

“Thanks again!” You grin, giving a little two finger salute before practically skipping all the way back into your dingy little apartment. Happily, you pack away the meat to use later. It’s too nice to just make any dish out of - best to save it for a special occasion. Your first gift in your new life. Best to savor it.

~~~

“Afternoon, bonnie.” Johnny appears in your doorway while you sweep up from the Saturday rush, bell chiming upon his entrance. “Hope I’m not a bother.”

“Not at all.” You smile, resting the broom on the counter. “Hello to you as well, Miss Riley.”

She huffs out a quiet bark in reply, sitting dutifully at Johnny’s feet. You don’t have much experience with service dogs - other than the well known rule not to pet them while they’re working. They were always too expensive for you to get and your condition wasn’t labeled serious enough to warrant financial aid. (Despite the fact that you can, and have, passed out and hit your head on something hard.)

“Can I get you something?” You ask.

“Och, I’m a’right. Just wanted tae stop by an’ say hello before headin’ home.” He gives you that dashing, bright grin. “Simon always kicks me out of the shop at close.”

“He doesn’t need help?” You ask. Surely cleaning up a butchers shop is a huge task. You have your work cut out for you with all the flower - you can’t imagine cleaning that amount of blood and mess.

Johnny shrugs. “The cleaning chemicals trigger my migraines.”

You hum. “Well, you’re always welcome to stop by. Actually,” you turn on your heel, “I’ve got somethin’ I’d like you to try, if you want.”

“Never one to say no to food. Especially from a pretty girl.” Johnny says as he follows. He tells Riley to stay in front and she listens - the perfect little lady that she is. You nearly trip at his comment, keeping your back turned so that he hopefully doesn’t see the heat spreading from your face and down your neck.

“I-it’s, uh, you ever had American biscuits?” You ask, praying he doesn’t notice the shake in your voice. You have to get on your tip toes to reach the small basket you made the day prior - carefully lowering it and pulling back the gingham cloth you wrapped them in.

An image of home.

“Aye, had them once on a layover at some chain diner.” He nods. “Donnae think they were fresh, though.”

“Well these are proper biscuits.” You carefully cut one in half with ease. “Sometime I’ll have to make you some gravy to go with.”

“Yer gonnae make us fat, hen.” Johnny chuckles.

“There are worse things to be.” The words come out more defensive than you would have liked. An automatic mechanism - a harshness you've honed over the years.

You hate how easily you wield it, sometimes.

Johnny leans forward over the table, a furrow in his brow. “I dinnae mean-“

“Here.” You cut him off and hold out the biscuit on a napkin, smothered with butter in the middle.

Johnny lets your interruption go. Probably happy for an out. He takes the fluffy baked good slowly, cupping it in his large hand with care. You wonder if he always does that, touches things with such gentle love. Is it learned? Is it just natural to him? Does he touch Simon like that? Gentle caresses?

What’s that like?

Johnny takes a massive, enthusiastic bite. Somehow his blue eyes manage to sparkle even more, grinning as he chews. “Sh’gew!”

You laugh at his attempt to talk around the food. “Glad you like it.”

He swallows roughly. A full body gulp. “Why’d ye start bakin’ anyway?”

“My grandparents raised me.” You fold the biscuits back up in their little basket. “My grandma taught me how. She was the best in town - won the pie contest almost every year.”

“Tha’s lovely.” The smile he gives you is so genuine it makes your chest constrict.

“Mean old bat but she could beat anyone in the kitchen.” You laugh. “We swore she had some kinda magic. Like a green thumb but for cooking.”

“My mum’s like tha’. Can make anythin’ out of nothin’.” He nods along.

You fall into an easy back and forth - never breaching anything deeper than the most surface level of content as he eats. It’s manageable. Johnny doesn’t push and neither do you.

Riley barks from the front of the shop.

“Och, tha’s my queue.” Johnny brushes off his hands and checks the front of his shirt for crumbs. “Take care, aye?”

You smile. “You too.”

~~~

Johnny’s words keep ringing in your ears. You don’t know why. It’s nothing special. There’s no reason to attach to them. You raise a hand to wipe off the fog and stare in the small mirror hung above your bathroom sink.

Pretty girl.

You scoff. You’re not a pretty girl. You’ve never been a pretty girl. Fat girl. Stupid girl. Sick girl. Tired girl. Sad girl.

That last one you’ve heard more than anything else. Out of all the descriptors of you it stands out as the most used. By everyone from teachers to your own family. Always just a sad, sad girl.

You got it from your mom, they’d say. It’s not like you would ever know.

You rip your eyes away from the mirror and try to let the thoughts melt away as you sink into the comfort of your blankets. Those thoughts live back on the other side of the Atlantic. They don’t get to follow you here.

[brokenmenswhore]

blades | aemond targaryen

pairing: aemond targaryen x fem!reader

summary: aemond’s dagger has always been a point of adoration for you

warnings: knife play (MDNI 18+), smut this is filthy!!, slight blood play

a/n: prepared this prompt for kinktober and liked it too much, oops. also!! i’m saying the dagger hilt is leather because i’m pretty sure that’s what they were made of then, but i do wanna say DO NOT BUY LEATHER!! SHOP CRUELTY FREE!! this blog is vegan :)

────── ☾ ──────

He was known throughout the realm to be skilled with a blade. While his brother just used sheer force, Aemond was known for strategic, calculated maneuvers.

You loved to sit and watch him duel with members of the King’s Guard, ensuring his skills remained sharp, though they weren’t much competition after a while.

You watched how he bobbed and weaved, counteracting each and every oncoming strike, blocking sword with sword. What you admired most, however, was his dagger. It was a small thing, at least compared to his sword, but it seemed so personal, so intimate. It was quick enough in his hand that his opponents wouldn’t see it coming until it was pressed against their neck, prompting them to admit defeat.

You always wondered how he got so good at it. Perhaps he wanted to be better prepared to defend himself, a move of pure safety, or maybe he truly loved a fight. Perhaps, you thought, a blade had been the very thing that wounded him to begin with, and he needed to feel a certain sense of control over it. No matter the reason, you couldn’t complain. You loved watching him and his dagger.

You had mentioned this admiration to Aemond before, but you never had the guts to express how much. Aemond would never think to bring the blade anywhere near your body; he would not allow anything near you that may harm you in any way.

So you caught him off guard. Shortly after a sparring session, Aemond retreated back to his chambers to change, and you followed suit, catching him just before he began to undress.

“Y/N, to what do I owe this surprise?” Aemond questioned, glasses in hand, offering you one as he took a sip of his own.

You stepped forward and accepted the cup, taking a sip of its contents before reaching past him to place the cup down on the table next to him. “Just wanted to say hi.”

Aemond chuckled at this. “You just wanted to say hi?”

Your fingers began tracing patterns on his clothes, beginning on his chest, and moving lower and lower. “Mhm.”

“That is all?”

Your eyes trailed up his body, meeting his eye as you attempted to distract him from your next move.

“I mean, maybe not all-“ you trailed off, risking it all by reaching for his dagger and pulling it out of the sheath, holding it close to his throat, but not touching.

Aemond slowly placed his cup down, both hands slowly moving upward to wrap around the wrist you had toward his throat.

You saw the movement coming and stepped backward, out of his reach.

“Y/N, give me the dagger.”

You jutted your bottom lip out in a pout. “Why should I do that?”

“Well, why do you want the dagger?” Aemond questioned.

You ignored him, placing both knees on the bed so you were kneeling on the mattress. You began to trail the dagger up your torso, through the seams of your clothes. “What if I just cut this off right now?”

Aemond sighed and approached you. “Y/N, that’s a serious blade, it could hurt you. Please put it down.”

“It’s a serious blade,” you mocked.

“I’m not playing games, Y/N, please.”

You locked eyes with him, stopping your demonstrations. “What if I am? What if I want to play games?”

Aemond glared at you, a long look exchanged between you both before he lept onto the bed, grabbing the dagger and pushing you down until you were laying flat on the mattress, the dagger to your throat.

“This is what happens when you play games with dangerous toys,” he spoke.

You pushed your head upward so your throat pressed into the side of the blade. “I’m not scared of you.”

“You should be, especially when I have this.”

You scoffed. “You won’t do anything. You won’t even pretend like you will.”

Aemond cocked his head to the side. He noticed your endgame, and while he was worried about accidentally hurting you, who was he to deny you what you want?

He began to press the blade down. “Lie back down or this is gonna hurt.”

You enthusiastically dropped your head back onto the pillow, his blade still dangerously close to your throat.

“Undress.”

You looked up at him confused.

“I can’t sit up,” you reminded him.

“You wanted the danger, you got it,” he retorted, “now do it.”

You tried with all your might to slip your dress over your head without pushing your neck further into the blade. After several minutes of struggle, you successfully undressed yourself with no neck wounds sustained.

“Good girl,” Aemond spoke, undoing his breeches and lining up his cock at your entrance.

You pouted at him. He usually prepares you for him, and while you were already aroused, his cock was large enough that you still needed it.

“What, can’t handle me yet?” he tsked.

You nodded your head no. Aemond removed the blade from your throat, twisting it in his hand so that he was carefully holding the metal, gesturing the hilt toward you.

“What do you want me to do with this?” you asked, grasping the hilt in your hand.

“You said you needed a warm-up.”

Your eyes widened in both astonishment and arousal. You never, in a million years, thought he would allow you to do something like this.

His eye remained locked on you as you moved the dagger lower until it reached your aching hole.

“Ah ah ah,” Aemond warned, “not yet, bug.” He took the dagger back for a brief moment, holding the hilt up to your lips. “Spit.”

You attempted to lube up the dagger as much as possible, spitting on it. You then moved the dagger lower, rubbing it between your folds to catch the wetness, eliciting a whine from the back of your throat. Aemond’s eye still never left yours.

You slowly began to push the hilt of the dagger in, whines and whimpers involuntarily spilling from your lips.

Aemond couldn’t help it, his eye broke contact with yours and watched as you pushed the entire hilt of the dagger inside of yourself, stopping it for a brief second before slowly pushing it in and out.

Aemond’s cock began to twitch at the sight.

“Feel better?” he asked, patronizingly.

“Mhm,” you moaned.

“Good girl,” he cooed, “then it’s my turn.”

He swatted your hand away from where it was holding the dagger in you, pulling it out viciously and bringing it back up to your throat.

“Taste it.”

You wrapped your lips around the soaked leather, tasting your juices on every braid and wrap. Aemond watched intently before pulling the hilt out of your mouth and moving the blade back to your throat.

He lined himself up and pushed his entire length into you in almost one shot, causing you to moan out loud. He set a steady pace, thrusting in and out of you, causing your body to rock back and forth, throat dangerously close to the sharp metal.

The presence of the dagger only added to your arousal more, the danger of getting hurt present, but you trusted Aemond enough to know you wouldn’t sustain a serious injury, as long as he was paying attention.

Aemond dipped his head onto your shoulder, fucking you hard and fast. The hand that wasn’t holding a blade to your throat moved to hold himself up further, staring into your eyes as he watched you squirm and whine for him.

He hit a particularly good spot, and you arched your back, your neck pushing up when you moved back down, a slight stinging sensation hitting your throat. Aemond watched as the ever-so-tiny amount of blood dripped from the small slice. He leaned in and licked the blood up with his tongue, causing tears to spill out onto your cheeks from the mix of pain and pleasure.

“Aem- Aemond- I-“

You couldn’t even form a coherent sentence as your high crashed over you, breathing erratic and a final moan of his name escaping your lips. Aemond’s high followed, his seed spilling into you as he snapped his hips a final few times.

He threw the dagger onto the floor as he rolled next to you, eager to get it out of the danger zones of your body.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, inspecting the small cut on your neck.

“A little,” you admitted, “but that was the point.”

[cameronspecial]

I Want To Be Your Boyfriend

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Sex

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.9K

Summary: Rafe never thought that he could fall for a Pogue, but the Goddess in front of him might change his mind.

A/N: This is a prequel to I Want To Be With You and requested by @sublimepenguinpeach-blog

When he first saw her, he thought she was the most beautiful Kook he had ever seen. The lavender silk Prada shirt she is wearing crops just above her belly button. It reveals a delicious sliver of her stomach that he just wants to rest his hands on. The recognizable double G of her creamed colour belt displays the girl’s financial status. But as Rafe’s eyes trail down to her pants, confusion crosses his features. The black jeans she wears are distraught with holes in a fashionable manner, yet, he doesn’t recognize the brand and the material looks too cheap to be a brand name. Her shoes also don’t match the top half of her outfit as the white Sketchers look so worn out that it had to be done because she can’t afford new ones and not because of aesthetics. 

Sarah and the rest of the Pogues joining his Goddess help put the puzzle pieces together in his mind. His sister is known for her love of sharing her clothes with her Pogue friends, so the Goddess in front of him must be a Pogue. Unlike Sarah, Rafe would never associate himself with Pogues unless they were working for him. Yet, the concern she shows for JJ over a bleeding cut on his forehead from falling down makes Rafe realize he doesn’t care that she lives on the wrong side of the island. She lets out the most amazing laugh he has ever heard and he has to be the one that makes her smile. He makes his way over to talk to her, but Kiara stops him in his tracks. 

“Don’t even think about it. She is too good for you,” she warns him away. He tries to sidestep her, “Come on, Kiara. Let me talk to her.” The girl shakes his head and turns him away. He doesn’t want to make a scene in front of the goddess, so he walks away in defeat. Throughout the night, he tries to talk to her and is intercepted by the other Pogues. 

——

For weeks he has been trying to talk to her, but every time a Pogue is there to stop him. At least he learnt her name. Y/N Y/L/N, the name of a goddess. He is sent by his dad to pick up something to eat at The Wreck and this is when he sees her next. She is whipping down a table on the far side of the room, which makes him switch course toward her. JJ spots Rafe’s new direction and runs into his path with a smirk. “I’m sorry, man. I can’t let you near her.” “You can’t tell me what to do, Pogue,” Rafe spits out, standing up straight so the small height distance looks a little bigger. JJ wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand to try to hide his chuckle, “When it comes to her, I can. Now, as the French say, arrivederci.” Rafe is going to argue more, but the call of his name for his order pulls him away from the blonde.

——

It felt like fate when he got to the coffee shop to see her hunched over a notebook by herself. He looks around the store to check that she really is alone and no other pogue is in sight. He grins at this new revelation, sliding himself across from her in the booth. “I’ve been trying to introduce myself for weeks. I’m Rafe,” he sticks his hand out for her to shake. She brings her hand to his and he notices that although they are calloused, they are still supple, “I know your name silly. And I know you know that you have been trying. My friends don’t keep things from me.” 

“Right, so you’ve just been making me chase after you on purpose.” 

“You know, Rafe, you are the one with the name that means counsel of the wolf in Old Norse. I’m starting to see that it is a pretty accurate name.”

“You are just as smart as I thought you were because I have no idea what you mean.”

She finds his honesty cute, “I’m saying that wolves are predators and you have been chasing after me like a pray for weeks.” He likes that she isn’t condescending when she explains the joke to him. “Ahh, I totally understood that. Please, keep blessing me with your wisdom.” 

——

Rafe has been talking and texting Y/N for a month now and he is finally convinced they are not going to be caught hanging out together by the other Pogues. This means he is finally going to ask her to go steady with him because he is assured they can go on a date without being caught. She stares at her TV show while his head is resting on her thigh near her stomach. He is between her legs and his focus is on his phone. “Y/N,” he catches her attention. “I want to be your boyfriend.” His tone is practically begging her to say yes. She looks down at him with a soft smile and her fingers lace through his hair. “Rafey, I would love for you to be my boyfriend. But I don’t think there is going to be much of a difference in our relationship,” she confides, twirling his hair between her fingers.

“Why not?” 

“I don’t think you can get any more clingy than this, Rafey.”

“True, but there is something I can start craving more than your touch, Baby”

He lifts his head off her thigh and brings himself to hover over Y/N. He gives her a peck before moving in to deepen the kiss. His hands find the buttons of her shirt as he begins kissing his way down her neck. Forget about her laughter, her moans are the most amazing thing he has ever heard.

[mochinek0]

In Sickness and in Health

"Damian, I need you to work with the new student on this project." his history teacher stated.

"What new student?" the young Wayne questioned.

'There's no one new here. Has he finally lost it?'

"Stay after class, please." they replied.

Damian simply nodded.

'At least if the new person is all in his head, I can work by myself.'

"The new student isn't here today as she's sick. They're also a transfer student." The teacher spoke, "Here is her address."

"You want me to go there and become ill?" Damian speculated.

"Not at all, Mr. Wayne. All I am asking is that you, at least, speak to her about the project." the teacher sighed, "She'll know better than anyone how long she'll be absent. Get her to write a note saying, I don't know, she gives you full control on the project or something. I'll deal with it from there."

"I can do that." Damian accepted.

'At least I can still work by myself.'

Damian looked down at the address in his hand an then back at the seamstress shop. Confused, the young Wayne entered the store and looked around for someone his own age.

"Can I help you?" asked an elderly lady.

"I was given this address for a classmate of mine." Damian explained, "I believe they mixed it up. Excuse me."

"Are you looking for Marinette?" they questioned.

'Marinette? Is that her name? Not American; he did mention they were a transfer student.'

"Yes." he answered, still unsure.

"Go through the blue curtain in the far back." the lady smiled, "There's a set of stairs that will take you to the apartment above the store."

Damian nodded and went to the back of the store. There was blue cloth hung up on a shower rod that parted slightly.

'A door would be better suited.'

Damian walked up the stairs to the second story and found single door. He raised his hand and knocked on the door. The door opened and he was shocked. There in the doorway was a girl with blue hair, up to his chest. She was wearing what seemed to be pajamas, had a blanket draped over her shoulders, a face mask, and a cooling cloth attached to her forehead.

'She is obviously seriously ill. How did she open the door? Why didn’t anyone else open it for her?'

"Who are you?" she questioned, hoarsely.

"Damian Wayne." he declared, "I was told to talk to you about a history project for school."

She moved away from the door and went stright to the kitchen.

"Sit anywhere you want. I haven't sat in the living room in three days. I'd offer you a beverage, but I don't want to get you sick and asking you to get it yourself, seems rude." the girl spoke.

'Polite; unexpected.'

"What are you doing?" Damian questioned, as he watched her stir a pot.

"Making soup for the week." Marinette answered.

"So, I should not expect you to return this week." he suggested.

"I usually eat soup when I'm sick and for the following days, to keep my immune system cleansed." she explained, "So, history? Leave me the details and I'll work on it."

"Mr. Hayes suggested you could write a note putting me in charge." Damian spoke.

"I can work, Damian." Mari remarked, "I don't need you coddling me because I'm sick."

'Coddle! I-The last thing I would do is….coddle her!'

Damian snapped, "I am giving you a way out! Get your rest and I will do it completely!"

"I'm on bedrest and as you can see, I'm functional." she growled back.

Marinette began to cough heavidly, enough to make her grip the kitchen counter. Damian watched as her breaths became labored, as if she had trouble inhaling.

'She calls this functional?'

Marinette grabbed a mug and poured hot water from a near by kettle. Damian watched as she spooned a small amount of tea leaves into a container and place it in the mug.

'Peppermint? She should try lemon, ginger, something citrus.'

"When are your parents getting back?" Damian asked, not moving from the doorway.

"I'm emancipated." she smiled.

'She's by herself?'

Damian looked around and noticed a small table with one chair. The living room had enough to seat up to three guests. There was also one door to the left, behind the living room.

"Leave the form and an email or something so I can send you my portion." Marinette called out, "If you don't like it, I can work in my room and you can work from out here."

Damian took out a pen and quickly wrote down his email at the top of the paper.

"I'll be back, tomorrow." he stated, leaving the apartment.

'Why is she so stubborn? She needs to rest. The simplest solution would be for her to rest this week while I work alone. What is she trying to accomplish?'

The moment she opened the door, Damian stared at Marinette annoyed. She had showed recently, but her hair was still wet. At the very least, she was wearing different clothes.

He scowled, "Where is the bathroom?"

"Oh, in my room, on your left." Marinette pointed out.

'Guess he really needed to go.'

Damian came back with a towel and threw it over her head, without notice. He quickly began to rub her head to get the moisture out.

"You're going to get worse with you hair looking like a wet mop." Damian stated, "Dry it completely."

Marinette remained silent and still. Damian stopped his movements.

"Marinette?" he asked, moving to face her.

'Shit!'

Marinette's eyes were wide and she was practially hyperventilating. She was clenching and unclenching her hands.

'She does not handle physical contact well. Is she going to be okay at school?'

Damian kneeled in front of her and showed his hands were raised in front of him.

"My apologies." Damian whispered, "I didn't mean to startle you."

Damian reached out and dragged his bag, next to the couch. He pulled out a small cylinder.

"I brought you some tea leaves. Citrus help you recover from illness." he began, "I don't believe peppermint will work." as he handed her the container.

Marinette took it and looked at it. She opened it and sniffed the tea leaves. There was lemon, cinnamon, ginger, and cloves. There was some other stuff she couldn't make out.

"You......made this?" Marinette questioned.

'Why would he give this to me?'

Damian remained silent, but nodded. He didn't think she would noticed he took his time to make her something.

"I make my own teas." he replied.

Mari smiled, "Thank you."

Damian watched as her expression softened. She got up from her seat, letting the towel fall from her head, and quickly began to get things ready to brew the tea. Once it was finished brewing, she took a sip.

"It’s delicious, Damian!" Mari smiled, happily, "Maybe I should go to you for all of my teas."

Before he could respond, Marinette took her tea and went into her room. Damian picked up his things and saw she had gotten comfortable in her bed with her laptop on a tray.

"Were we not working over there?" he questioned.

"I don't want to get you sick." Marinette replied, "Besides, there's only one chair. I'll just email you-"

Damian left the room and returned with the chair from her kitchen table.

"I don't get sick, easily." Damian declared, setting the chair down a few feet from her bed, "h quicker we finish this, the more you can rest."

Marinette worked silently, sipping on the tea Damian had brought her. After an hour, Damian packed up his thing, declaring he'd return the next day.

This time, when Marinette opened the door, he could tell she was moving much more sluggish.

'She got worse! She's pushing herself for me. Damn her stubbornness!'

Damian quickly picked her up in his arms.

"You're-" she began.

"If I get sick, I will blame you later." Damian claimed.

"Sorry." Mari whispered.

Damian placed her back in her bed. He quickly rushed to the bathroom in search of a first aid kit or at least, a thermometer. Once he found it, he brought it back and held it out. Mairnette looked at it, in dissapointment.

"Use it." he demanded.

Marinette shoved it in her mouth and waited. The quick beeping notified them both something was wrong. Mari took it out of her mouth n tried to hide it. Damian was able to grab it with ease.

'102.5'

"I'm fine." Marinette declared.

"You are far from fine." Damian stated.

Damian took the thermometer to the bathroom and washed it, as well as his hands. When he returned, he found Marinette fast asleep. He found a cooling pad near by and placed it on her head. Damian remember a small cloth by the sink and wet it. He quickly cooled off her arms, her neck, and her legs, before covering her up. Damian took out a sticky note and wrote down his number.

Marinette woke up to the room being dark.

"Damian?" she called out.

She grabbed her phone and saw it was close to two in the morning. She set her phone down and felt a paper.

'Sticky note?'

She turned on the flashlight on her phone and looked at the note: Call me if you worsen-Damian.

'Aw. He's really sweet. I feel so bad for falling asleep on him.'

Marinette stood up and made her way to the bathroom. She grabbed the thermometer from the medicine cabinet and took her temperature. It read 99.2; it was the best it had been all week. She washed the thermometer and took some medicine. After, she made more of Damian's tea.

'Gonna need it.'

Damian arrived back from patrol to find an email from Mari.

'I thought I told her to call me if she got worse, not email me!'

He opened it in a panic and found it was her completed work for the assignment. Damian looked at the time. It was now three in the morning and she had sent it thirty minutes ago. He grabbed his phone and opened his contacts. Then, he froze.

'I don’t have her number! Fuck!'

Damian went over the next day and was surprised to see her more active. Marinette had answered the door happily and was dressed in white tank top, pink shorts, and slippers. She wasn't even using a blanket to keep herself warm.

"Damian!" She smiled, "Hey, did you get my email?"

"I did." he answered.

"Is everything okay?" Mari asked, "I didn't think I'd see you today."

"Why did you send it so late or early, I should say." Damain questioned.

"It was when I woke up." Marinette answered, "I'm sorry for falling asleep on you. I decided it was best to work on it, while I had a clear head. I'm feeling a lot better, so I should be able to see you at school tomorrow. I'm sure it was all thanks to your tea."

Damian nodded and held out his phone for her to grab. Marinette looked at it confused, but took it.

"I planned on yelling at you, for being up so late, but I didn't have you number." the young Wayne stated.

Marinette giggled, "And I should give it to you, why?"

Damian remained silent. He didn't think she would refuse to give her number to him.

"In case we are paired up again." he quickly spoke.

Mari added her contact information and handed it back.

"Sick Girl?" he questioned.

"So you know it's me." Mari answered.

He hated how right she was. It was likely that if she had entered her name, he would have forgotten it in a week and deleted it.

"Do you want to come in or was that all?" she asked.

"That was all." he said and quickly left.

Marinette closed the door an giggled.

'He's like a stray cat that came to say hi.'

Damian sat in class and kept his eyes on the door. Marinette hadn't walked in, yet, and it was almost time for the bell to ring.

'Is she still sick? Did her fever come back? I should have called her this morning to make sure she was feeling fine.'

The bell rang breaking him from his thoughts and then, she rushed in.

'Marinette.'

"Late." their teacher declared, "I will forgive you, this time, since you have been sick, Miss Duapin-Cheng."

Marinette nodded her head. It was finally time for history class and it was so different to see her in uniform. Damian could admit he more use to seeing her in pajamas or shorts, with her blanket curled around her. He was even use to her falling asleep, but some how the uniform felt less personal. He hated it. Damian watched carefully over Marinette. He had to make sure she was completely better. Her damn stubbornness left him worried about her pretending to feel better for his sake. Then, he saw it; the tense smile on her face. She was surrounded by their peers. It reminded him of the smiles his brothers' gave at parties. Damian walked over and grabbed her wrist.

"We need to talk about the project since you have been absent." he declared.

"Oh, okay." Marinette answered, as he pulled her away from everyone else.

"He could have been nicer."

"It's Wayne. When is he ever nice?"

"Lucky bitch."

"I can’t believe she was his partner."

"He probably did it himself, already."

"Yeah. He's just gonna give her a copy and put her name on it."

"I can’t believe he touched her."

"True."

"Better than him yelling at us to move or scram, again."

Marinette frowned as she heard what they said about Damian. That wasn't the Damian she knew.

"Thank you." Marinette whispered, once they were far enough.

Damian looked at her questioningly.

"For rescuing me." she answered.

"You appeared uncomfortable." the young Wayne spoke, " I was uncertain how you would react if one of them touched you. I understand if I made you uncomfortable, as well. My apologies for forcing you. Next time, tell them to leave."

"I'm not good at dealing with people; not anymore." Mari declared, "Besides, they should forget about me soon. I'm still 'new' in their eyes. I'm not trying to gain anything by talking to them. I don’t want to get to know them."

"I thought you weren't coming." Damian spoke, changing the subject.

"Huh?" she asked, confused, "I told you I was coming today."

"You were late." he growled.

"Oh." Marinette winced, "Uh….I have a feeling I will be in detention a lot."

Damian stopped and turned to her, waiting for an explanation.

"I have always been late to school, even when it was across from my house." she stated.

Damian sighed, "I'll pick you up in the mornings."

"No!" she cried out.

"Why?" he demanded, "Is that an issue? I have been to your place before, have I not?"

"I'm not a morning person." Mari replied, looking down.

He sighed again, "My brother isn't either, unless he has had coffee. I can bring you some." making a mental note to steal Tim's coffee in the morning from now on.

"Really?" Mari questioned, perking up.

"You better, at least, be dressed." Damian retorted.

"Pajamas count as being dressed, right?" she squeaked.

Damian glared at her, "Why would you still be in pajamas?"

"I'm not a morning person!" Marinette glared back, "I work late and-"

"The shop keeps you that busy?" he questioned.

"Oh." Marinette spoke, "No. I help in the shop sometimes, but that's not my job. I do commissions. She asks me to help some times, but she's going to let me use the sewing machine for free until I can buy one."

"How….long do your commissions take?" he sighed.

"Depends who it's for. If it's for my uncle, I tend to work three weeks straight. It also depends on the pay and timeline. If he called me right now and asked for something in six months, I wouldn't worry unless things began to pile up. It could also be one of my aunties."

'What the fuck is with her family? No wonder why she is emancipated! I can't believe they would work her that hard.'

"You're moving into the manor." Damian declared, "I'll even get you a new sewing machine."

"I am not!" she cried out, "I barely know you! All I know is you name and you make tea!"

"At this rate, I'll have to get you dressed and drag you to school!" Damian cried back.

"Who the fuck made you my babysitter?" Marinette shouted.

"Someone should be." he huffed, "You obviously need someone to take care of you. I don’t see why it shouldn't be me!"

Marinette squeaked and turned red. Realizing what he said, so did Damian.

The teacher watched as Damian took Marinette aside to talk. He was well aware that their assignment had been turned in three days ago. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but it was the closest he had ever seen Damian be comfortable around anyone. He also was aware of Marinette's past school and being bullied.

'I knew getting them to talk would be a good thing.'

DAMINETTE TAGLIST: @meme991001 @umbreon-worshipper @stainedglassm @jasmine-the-fox @psychicdelusionwerewolf @vixen-uchiha @mysteriouschar @missmadwoman @kanamexzeroyaoifangirl @dissarraymania @tundra1029 @abrx2002 @mrsjacuinde @ledalasombra @animegirlweeb

TAGLIST: @animeweebgirl @a-star-with-a-human-name @alysrose-starchild @fandom-trapped-03 @dood-space @moonlightstar64 @saltymiraculer @marveldcedits20 @09shell-sea09 @icerosecrystal @insane-fangirl-of-everything @blueblossombliss @nickristus-dreamer @megawhitleycalderonpaganus @tigresslily @legodetectivemalsblog

[baddiewiththebook]

STUFFING AND SAUCE [18+]

-> It's Thanksgiving, and the gang is all together under one roof: the Henderson house. While Mrs. Henderson and Wayne battle the turkey in the kitchen, Eddie fights his own urges with the older Henderson sibling. You're home for the holidays, and Eddie's hungry. . . but, not for turkey.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> hookup to lovers, angst, smut

-> warning - explicit content [18+]

a/n -> This is reuploaded and heavily edited from last year.

-> <-

"You keep looking in that mirror and I'll break it," Dustin warns.

Robin's hair stands on end. "You can't be serious? That bad luck is transferable, you know?"

Dustin rolls his eyes at her superstition because honestly they've all come to an agreement to help set the table for Thanksgiving dinner party that his mother has offered to host this year. And, with Eddie's lack of partaking because he's too busy blotting down his hair in the mirror, Dustin doesn't understand why Eddie's come to his house in the first place.

The older boy fidgets with the end of his shirt, and not long after Robin comes to his ear to tell him that you'll love how he looks tonight. That's right, you're coming. He's totally forgotten that Dustin's sister is in town for Thanksgiving. Eddie's hair dangles over his cheeks, so that hopefully no one sees him blush.

"When does your sister get here?" Max throws herself onto the couch next to Steve, whom scoots a seat over from her. Lately, he realizes, she's been a bit too clingy to him.

"She's late," Dustin checks the clock that hangs high above on the wall ticking the time away. "She should have been here an hour ago- Eddie!"

Eddie abandons his task once again to dash over to the front window facing the street. Frost makes the drying grass and the limp trees appear shiny like glass. Foggy car headlights grow larger as they near. Seeing your Honda pull up the short drive brings back memories from the summertime.

Last summer was a record high in heat, which left you with barely any clothes to wear that didn’t leave your skin sticky and hot. Especially when Eddie was bent over the hood of your car and knuckles deep in your engine. Greased up hands and all, he wiped the sweat from his brow to tell you that your car was fixed. When you offered him cash as payment, he declined to the manor of being friendly not as the professional Eddie Munson - mechanic. You chewed on your bottom lip while batting your lashes in his direction.

Eddie’s unsure how you can make him melt, while simply being you. But, eventually, you worked out a payment that both of you were happy with. And, you continued that payment damn near every week. In his office. In his garage. In his van. In his kitchen. In his shower. In his bed.

No space in his shop or in his apartment are left sacred to either of you. And, when the summer was done, you were off to college. No calls or texts from either of you.

“She’s here!” Max spins in the front hallway. You are her idol. She swears you are the coolest person she’s ever met (aside from El).

Dustin shoves Eddie out of the way to observe for himself that in fact his sister has come home for the holidays. Not long after, their shared mom runs out of the house with her apron around her neck like a cape in her sprint.

“Hi, baby!” Your mom peppers your face with her kisses.

You whine. “Mom!”

“Okay, okay!” She pinches your cheeks until they’re glowing, but she does let you go.

Following her is your little brother, Dustin, who grabs you around the waist and he pulls you in tight. He’s gotten much taller since the last time you’ve seen him, but that can’t be right. You’ve only been gone for a few months!

“Hi, Dusty!” You ruffle his hair.

He grins. “What did you bring me?”

“I barely have enough money for books!” You snort.

Dustin drops his grip and then he fans you away. The little sucker grumbles, and avoids helping you with your suitcase despite your mom’s request. But, Steve and Robin dogpile you with warm greetings and Steve offers to help with your bag.

“I need all the dirt on college,” Robin whispers. “Are there really stains on all the sheets?”

What she means to ask is much raunchier. But, your mother is still picking at your clothes because you haven’t ironed this shirt. She’s got this look upon her face like you’ve been away at sea for years and years, and not like you’ve spent two months away at college.

Steve lugs your suitcase inside with you in tow. The rest of your brother’s little friends have also crowded around to get a piece of you. You’re like a celebrity in your own home. Even Wayne’s got his arm around you, whom you didn’t expect to see (but, you’re not complaining - you love Wayne).

Wayne’s got himself stuck in the kitchen with your mom to help her with the turkey. You’re the top subject right now, but soon he dashes off to make sure the bird isn’t drying out in the oven. Conversation begins to swirl like normal, and you’re on the lookout for the one person you might have missed a little more than you should.

You sit on the living room couch between Nancy and Steve with Robin at your feet, and the kids are running about the home hiding a can of whipped cream from your mom and Wayne (who are the only adults capable of reprimanding them of course).

“Do you have any plans while you’re in town?” Nancy asks.

You hope she doesn’t see your neck crane over her curly head. “None, but I’m here for the weekend and Monday since I don’t have classes.”

“What’s your schedule like?”

Nancy overloads everything she can while you’re around. No offense to the other people in your friend group, but they didn’t invite intellectual conversations like you and she did. She’s got too many questions for you, while you’re overthinking that the mid-length skirt you wore is too much.

“Have either of you seen Eddie?” Wayne poses the eye opening question that has the whole gang bobbing their head back and forth like meerkats.

“I saw his van outside, right? I’ll check there,” you stand away from your spot on the sofa.

Robin wants to make a sly comment about your willingness to brave the cold for this shaggy man, who seems to have taken a full shower, shave and added cologne to his washed outfit for the evening. She bites her tongue.

“Bathroom?” Nancy suggests that she go upstairs, and Robin will check this floor.

Steve hauls himself from the couch. “I’ll check outside.”

Steve secretly wishes that Eddie be there smoking a joint that he could bum off of. Holidays aren’t Steve’s favorite because his family isn’t around either. He’s here because he can’t say ‘no’ to Mrs. Henderson.

To no knowledge of Eddie, however, is anyone looking out for him. He’s snuck out to his van while everyone else stays distracted by your arrival. Watching your chest bounce while you laugh, or your skirt flutter while you twirl - you’re a God damn tease and you know what you’re doing.

Knock, knock.

You wrap your knuckles against the glass of his van’s driver’s side window. This must be Eddie’s lucky day, and you’re thinking the same by the way you twist in front of him.

“What’s up?” Eddie nods.

You pout. “Well, you didn’t even say ‘hi’ to me and you’re already bailing?”

“I’m not bailing,” he assures. “Besides, do you think that the way we greet each other is appropriate to do in public?”

A part of you is quite offended that he hasn’t addressed the elephant in the room. Not only did he neglect to call you in the past few months, nor did he greet you at the door like the rest of your friends had done earlier. But, the other part of you is winning over this tug of war. You haven’t had sex in months, and shining your own shield only goes so far.

During the summer, you got what you wanted. You and Eddie screwed like rabbits. When you left, a nagging itch was left that couldn’t be scratched. Admittedly, you got cozy in his apartment. Your sleepovers became ‘Good Morning’ with a side of eggs and toast. Soon began you washing the dishes after, and Eddie asking about what you’re studying for school.

After a while, his apartment became a second home and you no longer had to ask where the bathroom was. You pretended that this little game was to keep Dustin’s watchful eye out of sight, but sipping your morning brew without asking Eddie to add anymore cream or sugar became a bit more than you bargained for.

You’re leaning forward now to press a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. But, before you have a chance to pull away, Eddie slots his lips to yours like he’s made his way home.

“You want to take advantage that there’s no one parked behind me? Like old times?” Eddie pinches your chin with his index finger and his thumb.

It just so happens that the Beyers family is running a tad behind schedule. Will couldn’t find his Christmas sweater, and Johnathan had to second his shower because according to his mom, he still stunk like a skunk had run through their house. But, as they finally do pull up to the lively home with Christmas lights twinkling on the roof, Joyce Byers spots the eldest Henderson twisted in close conversation with the Munson boy.

Joyce parks their car halfway onto the sidewalk because Johnathan is jolting out of the car murmuring something about the food smelling so good. This leaves Will to juggle the grocery bags full of potatoes and Mac and Cheese into the house. But, Joyce stops to interrupt the conversation you’re having.

“Hi, Miss. Byers,” you pull away from the conversation to greet her warmly.

“Joyce, honey! Joyce!” She corrects. “I didn’t mean to- oh, I’m sorry. Hello, Eddie!”

Eddie waves his hand in her direction. That’s not to be rude, but he would rather not have Joyce see him in a pair of tight denim with his dick as hard as it is right now.

“We’re just going out for a last minute grocery run,” your lie leaves a sour note on your tongue.

Joyce knows very well that the last grocery store to stay open on Thanksgiving has closed about thirty minutes ago. But, she doesn’t tell them that she knows this. She quite fondly looks back to her own memories of when she snuck out of her family ‘s Christmas party with her boyfriend at the time.

“Be safe,” Joyce winks, then turns on her heel to go inside.

You’re quick to hop into the passenger seat of Eddie’s van. An old bitter cigarettes scent stains the interior of the vehicle like a thick layer of butter on toast. You buckle up, then kick your feet out in what little room he has under the dash. Eddie’s abused the passenger side of his van for fast food wrappers and travel mugs he hasn’t taken inside for however long.

Aside from a tire whining, Eddie cuts the headlights to sneak out of the drive without anyone noticing from inside.

Eddie places one of his hands across your thigh, “Grocery shopping?”

"What was I supposed to say?" You shake your head

You’re biting at the edge of something wonderful here. Looking on to your left, Eddie’s got his lip tugged between his teeth. His eye on the road. His mind in the gutter. The hand he’s got squeezing against the fat of your inner thigh dances dangerously across your skin. Your spine arches straight back. Eyes shut blissfully as you let a whine escape you.

Then, he dares flick your awaiting clit while driving solo with one hand on the wheel and an eye on the road. Not to be crude, but he’s been here before with you. Tight on time. Sneaking about like high schoolers still. You’re on his mind most of the time these days because he wants to know if what you did with him all summer is what you would do in college with other people. He’s subjected himself to exhausting torturous hours at work just so he doesn’t have to think about you in your back getting railed by a random dude.

Somehow he’s got you here now, and your putty under his fingers. Your eyelashes flutter. Brows furrow. Your chest rises and falls at the lightest touches from him.

Clenching your legs against his large grip he's got on you, Eddie pulls off to the side of the road. He’s waited far too long to revisit this little charade. Pulling in behind a few trees, he doesn’t have to ask because you’re already climbing into the back.

You land on a set of blankets he hasn’t taken out since you left.

Eddie crawls into the back after you. Kisses like he never left. Nostalgia makes your heart skip inside of your chest. He keeps you there under his touch, and squeezing at your sides as you sink deeper into his embrace.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” Eddie breathes onto your neck, before attaching himself there and nibbling into your flesh.

Your whines acknowledge that he’s got just the right spot - like he could have forgotten. The embrace is so familiar that your chest burns for him.

“More,” you beg into his hair, while gripping your hands into fists of the fabric on his back.

If there was more time, Eddie would have stayed there all night just to hear your heart beat against his eardrum. Yet, he’s undoing his belt, the button on his jeans and pulling the zipper down to match you flipping up that sinful little skirt you wore just to tease him. Wetting his fingers, he then hooks his pinky in your underwear to move them to the side. Rubbing your clit, Eddie hears your moans bounce from each side of the van. You’re on full display. Deliciously beautiful and all for him.

You’re both aware of this, so there’s no need to say anything.

“Eddie,” except you do. “Please. I need you!”

“I’ll never stop needing you,” he finds your lips again, as he pushes himself deep inside of you.

Groaning together, your core aches a familiar feeling. Tightening your grip against him like you’re scared he’ll run away. He’s got his eye not on your eye, but on your soul. Reaching far beneath the depths that anyone could ever fall into, and at its core is you. Your being is the only part he’ll ever need - the only thing he longs for. And so, as he’s fucking you at a punishing rate, he holds on tight for he’s afraid to let go.

You break the eye contact when you toss your head back. Stars form in your vision, as you topple over the edge of bliss. Following soon, you hear Eddie groan one last time and he’s spilling inside of you.

“Shit,” he rolls onto the blankets trying to catch his breath.

You’re doing the same, and with one long exhale, you swing yourself over so that you’re laying across his body. Eddie drowsily opens his eye to see the most beautiful creature he’s laid his eye on. Lipstick smeared. Mascara smudged. Your heart sounds as though it’s going to burst from your chest.

“Hi,” you say breathlessly.

Eddie chuckles. “Hey, beautiful.”

Beautiful. That’s an unspoken word between you two. Usually, after sex, the two of you either dress in silence or roll over and go to sleep. You miss the feeling of being wanted, and you’ve got your fingers crossed that he’s not just playing his cards.

Eddie’s hand finds the small of your back to bring you closer.

“What are you thinking about?” He touches your forehead with his index finger.

You nibble at the inside of your cheek, before bravely making the leap to ask. “Did you mean it?”

“What?”

“That you’ll never stop needing me,” you swallow thickly.

Eddie’s fingers make patterns along your bare back. Eyes locked onto yours, he studies your face through the shadows of the arriving evening. All this time you’ve been away, you’ve been on his mind. If he knew what dorm you live in, he’d be there in a heart beat to keep you warm during these cooler months.

“I’ll never,” he folds your fingers in with his just so he can bring your hand to his mouth, and so he can kiss every knuckle on your hand, “stop needing you.”

“Oh, Eddie,” you lean in for a kiss.

Someone bashes a fist against the back door to the van, and you know your screwed. Red and blue lights flicker and flash outside the window.

"Shit!" You scramble to pat down your hair, and your skirt.

Eddie tucks himself into his pants, while muttering curses to himself.

“Police!” Jim Hopper’s voice is easily recognizable. “Come on, Munson. Don’t make me come in there.”

With a few run-ins with the law, and making a reputation as the “freak” of Hawkins High School, Eddie’s van became a staple around town. Even the police knew just about where ever he is at any time.

Tumbling over each other, you’re sure the guilt is written all over your faces. Nearly blinded by a flashlight to the face, you shield your eye away from Jim Hopper, who squints at you two. Clearly caught in the act of a wild youthful fantasy, Jim clicks off his flashlight and speaks to you both;

“I was on my way to your mom’s house,” he makes a point to stare you down, before continuing, “when I was radioed that there’s a suspicious van lingering off the side of the road. Care to explain?”

Not like there is much explaining to do. The story is pretty black and white, but that doesn’t discourage Eddie to come up with an aching bumble of lies.

“We were just on our way to the grocery store when we ran out of gas,” he began with your earlier plot. “We ran out of cranberry sauce.”

“Right,” Jim grunts. “I better give you a ride back.”

Walking back into the house to explain why you and Eddie disappeared has been mute to your ears. All of the funny faces from the younger kids, or the suspected glances from the older friends. God, you’d never hear the end of this from Robin. She’s been on your behind about fixing you up with Eddie for a while.

“You okay?” Eddie nudges you.

Jim says with his back turned, “Come on, kids. No use standing around a dead car. I’ll see what I can do about getting you back here with a gas can in the morning.”

“I’m fine,” you're embarrassed, but you're warm knowing where you stand with Eddie.

You’re crammed in the back of Jim’s Chevrolet with Eddie. Also stuffed between you two, is a sizable Tupperware full of mashed potatoes. El twists around in the front seat to let you know that she made them this year.

Bumps in the road weigh heavy against the beating inside your chest. You’re not speaking a language that Eddie totally understands, but he knows where your head is at. He touches your pinky with his sending a few jolts straight to your heart and your stomach flips. You continue to manage the Tupperware from tipping all over the seats.

The Sheriff spins the wheel to turn down your street. That empty spot Eddie left has Jim’s name written all over it.

Somehow the home has become busier than when you left earlier. Sounds of laughter bubble through the chill of the evening. The blinds are drawn, so you can see the Christmas tree in the living room lined with a calamity of decorations that have been collected over the years. Tinsel shines against the living room lamps draped across doorways, and the window frame. Your mom insists on putting the decorations up the day after Halloween.

You can almost hear Wayne’s boyish laughter that he’s never quite grown out of, while he tortures the young kids. He’s cornered Lucas and Max with a fake bushel of mistletoe in his hand. Max squirms when Lucas kisses her on the cheek, but later blushes while no one is looking.

The car tilts as the group climbs out and down onto the driveway. You’ll never understand the love for a lifted truck like this.

Despite wanting to be useful, El takes the mashed potatoes from you.

“I’ll be taking that!” She announces proudly.

With El and Jim both taking the lead, Eddie sneaks in to tug at your hand.

The front door swings open.

“Jim Hopper,” Wayne announces. “And- erm, Eddie?”

You poke your head around Jim’s back, and Wayne’s mouth draws agape.

“Their grocery store run ended on a flat tire, so I brought them back here,” Jim says.

“Thank you for rescuing them,” he replies. “Well, come in. Dinner is just about ready.”

Jim, El and yourself enter the home without too much inquiry from Wayne. But, you hear a thunk and Eddie’s protest, so you can imagine Wayne just knocked some sense into the back of Eddie’s head.

“You must be cold, darling,” Wayne snaps his finger. “I’ll bring you some hot chocolate. Go on and sit by the fire in the living room. Your friends have been waiting for you.”

Pinching Eddie on the ear, Wayne drags him away to the kitchen where you just know he’s getting scolded.

You bite the bullet, and find your friends in the living room surrounding the fireplace. Steve’s fought for and gotten the prime spot, so that his back is to the flame and he’s heating up in the knitted sweater that Nancy made for him.

Johnathan is still unhappy about the exchange by the way, even if she knitted him a pair of socks later. You can’t imagine a world where Johnathan and Steve might get along anyway. Nancy has false hopes.

“There you are!” Nancy worries like a mom who’s lost sight of her kids for more than five minutes. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

“Really?” You plop down next to Robin on the couch, who’s got this grin that you beg won’t start talking.

“Won’t you enlighten us?” Robin bats her lashes.

Steve clears his throat. “Don’t think she’ll have too.”

“Warm up with this,” Eddie’s come from the kitchen with hot chocolate in hand. He hands it to you, and kisses the top of your head.

“Shut up!” Robin yells. “Really?”

“Really what?” Dustin pokes his head from around the corner before Eddie can snake his hands away from you. “Oh, damn.”

-> <-

tags: @ali-r3n

[msafterhours]

Two Hands

Male Reader x woo!ah! & EL7Z UP Nana (Nayeon)

~25k words

“We should do this more often,” Nayeon murmurs into your chest.

“I mean, sure, I’d be happy to come support your group any time I’m not—”

“No, not that!” she exclaims, giggling slightly as she pulls away just enough to look up at you.  “I mean this.”

And she pulls you in even tighter, leaving you short of breath in more ways than one.

Nights like this make you wish the world was a bit kinder to you.  You’re bundled under multitudes of layers of thick clothes, thin mask and scarf completing your near head to toe coverage, yet you still can’t seem to keep your teeth from chattering incessantly.  Your efforts manage to preserve some of your warmth, but another shiver reminds you of the urgent need to get inside and get some food inside of you.  It’s really, really cold outside.

Thus, you swear the gleaming gates of heaven themselves stand before you when you catch a glimpse of the bright lights of your favorite little ramen shop.  Fighting against the harsh winter air, you trudge through the icy slush, cursing the severity of the snowstorm and the stupidity of your decision to splurge on a new pair of casual shoes instead of investing in more functional footwear.  It’s really, really cold outside.

A sigh of relief escapes your lips as you open the door and feel the warm embrace of the heated air, but your solace is swiftly supplanted by dread as you look around and notice that the shop’s well over full capacity, with little if any seating room available.

"Whatever, let's just get in line and hope for the best," you think to yourself as you take your place in line behind a pair of old ladies.

“I swear, it was a rabbit that ran past us!” one exclaims.

“Absolutely not, I know a squirrel when I see one!” the other insists, stomping her foot in frustration.

tick...

tock...

After a few surprisingly entertaining minutes, you finally make it to the front of the line and the familiar face behind the counter.

"The same as the last hundred or so times?" the old lady asks with a wry smile.

"Hey hey hey, ninety-two times, thank you very much!" you answer with mock indignation.  "But yes, I’m well aware how much of my budget goes to your shop, Aunt Kim."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," she fires back, tapping away at the screen as she yells your order to the kitchen.  "Would you?"

"Absolutely not," you answer without hesitation as you leave a generous tip.  "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna attempt the impossible and try to find somewhere to sit in your stupidly crowded shop."

"Good luck!" she calls out as you turn and walk away.  "You're going to need it!"

You sweep the room once, twice.  Neither survey produces anything but depressing results.  A third time, just in case.  Nothing’s changed.  A heavy, dramatic sigh escapes you as you ready yourself to accept your seemingly inevitable fate.  But before you can concede, a bright glint in the corner of your vision offers hope, causing you to turn and find what you've been desperately looking for.

A girl, seemingly around your age, with glowing golden hair that shines brilliantly, reflecting the warm yellow lights scattered around the shop, sits alone.  Your heart leaps for joy as you see, most importantly, an unutilized chair across from her.  You cling to that shred of hope, quickly making your way over before coming to a stop in front of her table.

A few moments more than you can endure pass as she continues to tap away her phone, either not noticing your presence or choosing to ignore it.  Eventually, you clear your throat and wave your hand in front of her, causing her to jump slightly and finally look up at you.  Your eyes meet, and you feel the words escape your mind in the moment you hold her gaze.  It takes a second, then another, but you finally remember your goal and cease your staring.

"Um, sorry to bother you, but … there are no other seats available, and I really, really, don't want to have to go outside again yet," you hurriedly explain, praying to whoever’s listening that this random, empyrean being you just met might miraculously take pity upon you.  "Would it be alright if I sat here with you?"

She regards you for many moments, each feeling like an eternity as you stand there awkwardly.  She stares, deep into your eyes then deeper still, hunting an ulterior motive.  Her eyes flash and dart, scanning the singular you as if you’re an entire crowd.  You know not what she searches for, but whatever test of virtue you’re subjected to, she seems satisfied with the result as she nods and gestures to the seat across from her.

You finally release the breath you hadn't realized you were holding, thanking her profusely as you join her at the table.

Your display finally earns a crack in the ice, shifting her skeptical expression to one of sick amusement as she comments, "If you’re this scared of the cold, why are you out so late?  Surely you didn’t forget to go shopping before the snowstorm … right?  Surely."

You feel your ears burning with a warmth from deep, deep within as your embarrassment flares up.  Your initial response tells truths, but her smug expression leads your words elsewhere.  "Would you believe I just really wanted ramen from my favorite shop and was willing to suffer the consequences to do so?"

Her sinister smile widens as she leans in and counters, "I just might … if you didn't sound like a guilty schoolboy who got caught trying to copy someone's test answers."

She holds your gaze once again, deep brown eyes delving into the depths of your soul, trapping you within a pocket of agonizing silence amongst the shop’s raucous atmosphere.

"Well?" she whispers breathlessly.  "Are you gonna use your words?  Or are you just gonna let those firetruck red ears do the talking?"

You exhale heavily, feeling your faux hubris exit your body as you confess, "Alright, fine.  You got me.  No more lies.  I might've sorta ruined up my planning for the week and ran out of food last night, alright?  Now, please, I beg you, stop looking at me like that."

Your response catches her off guard, but you’re quick to join her in shock as she bursts into a quiet fit of laughter.  Her mirth immediately entrances you; each note a part of the chorus that dances on your eardrums and seals itself deep into your heart.

You wrack your brain for a proper retort, hoping to turn the tides of this war of words, but your rebuttal is prevented by the arrival of Aunt Kim with your meal.  You thank her profusely as she sets it down, earning a smile before she turns to address your companion.

"Would you like me to take your bowl, Nayeon?" she asks, smiling at your companion in a way you’d believed was reserved for only you.

"Yes please, thank you, ma'am," Nayeon responds, picking up the bowl and handing it to her.

"Bah, you and your stubbornness," Aunt Kim grumbles.  "With how often you come here, the formality just feels stuffy.  Just call me Aunt Kim like this other addict does."

“I could probably do that.  You could also agree to call me Nana like all my other friends do,” Nayeon answers back, a genuine smile gracing her features for the first time you’ve seen.

Aunt Kim rolls her eyes dramatically as she pats your head affectionately in the way she knows you hate, then walks away with that same warm smile that you’d thought was saved exclusively for you, but now know is also shared with the girl sitting across from you.

"Oh, you’re a regular too?" you ask as you begin to enjoy your meal.  "I'm surprised I haven't seen you before."

"I'm usually here later," Nayeon responds as she idly taps away on her phone again.  "Not huge on coming here when it's so busy."

"I totally get that.  I'm usually here earlier, before the big rush, but this week has been crazy.  Add the storm on top of that, and I guess that leaves me here, forced to settle for getting swept up in the dinner surge."

"Oh, so you're settling for my company, huh?  I see how it is," Nayeon replies, feigning indignation as she crosses her arms and huffs in disbelief.  "I guess next time a popsicle wants to share a table, I'll make sure to send him back to the freezer."

"Hey hey hey, easy now," you reply, raising your hands in surrender.  "I'm not a huge fan of this chaos either, but I am eternally grateful for your company and your great sacrifice of existing in my vicinity."

"You're very welcome," Nayeon offhandedly remarks.  "Your expression mid-head pat was almost hilarious enough to justify my continued tolerance of your presence."

And just like that, you feel the conversation derail, coming to a screeching halt as hints of embarrassment creep up your neck and render your face even more flush.  With a grumble and a rather undignified pout, you let your eyes fall to the far warmer bowl of ramen that awaits you and begin enjoying your meal, causing Nayeon to hum in amused satisfaction at your surrender as she returns to her phone and resumes tapping away at what sounds like a game.

While you'd begrudgingly admit that you’ve enjoyed the conversation thus far, you’re pleasantly surprised at how easy it is to simply enjoy the serene feeling of sharing Nayeon's company.  In fact, the silence grants you a brief chance to study the countenance of your dining companion, and you’re more than happy to seize the opportunity.

It seems that the only thing sharper than her words is her jawline, which is itself a sharp contrast from her other, softer features.  As much as you wish you could stare back into her eyes once more, her downward gaze and focus on her phone makes doing so impossible, "forcing" you instead to focus on her lips, which she occasionally bites in frustration, causing your heart to swell in a way that feels unsafe yet anything but unnatural.

"Enjoying the view?"

Well shit.

Your eyes barely have to drift upwards to meet her gaze, where her eyes await you once more with a scrutinizing yet intrigued twinkle.  While only moments ago you were wishing you could stare into her eyes once more, the combination of the intensity of her stare and your embarrassment forces you to look down in shame as you meekly mutter a quiet apology.

"Nah, you're not getting off that easily," Nayeon says, setting aside her phone and leaning in.  "What'd you think?  And please do be honest.  You wouldn’t want to break your promise, would you?"

After only a moment's hesitation, you stare back into her eyes and open the floodgates.

"Well, it's only been a couple minutes, but I've decided that I love the way your hair glows like golden honey in this light, I'm pretty sure your jawline is sharp enough to cut through diamond, and I'm definitely sure that if you keep biting your lip the way you do whenever you're focused or frustrated or whatever that I'm going to be too dizzy to walk home."

“...”

“...”

tick...

“Oh.”

tock...

The raucous atmosphere of the shop seems to once again fade away as you intently hold the gaze of the girl you recently met but feel like you’ve known forever.  You can’t shake this odd sense of familiarity, like you had seen her before somewhere, but can’t quite put your finger on where.

Regardless, by this point, the silence between you has stretched to an uncomfortable length of time.  After bearing it a moment longer as you attempt to gather your resolve, you ask, "So, uh, what do you think?  I mean, I'd also prefer it if you were honest, but I don't have a promise to hold you to, so I guess I'll just have to settle for asking nicely and hoping for the best?"

Your follow-up seems to finally shock Nayeon out of her reverie, leading her to finally pick her jaw up off the floor and respond, "I mean, okay, good to know.  A little much, not gonna lie, but keep talking like that and I might have to let you keep doing what you're doing.  Can’t say I hate the attention."

She pauses for a moment, allowing her eyes to run across your upper body before meeting your gaze once more and adding, "And hey, you're not too rough on the eyes either."

tick...

Only a single serene second slips by as you hold each other's gaze before you see inspiration flash across her visage.  The glimmer in her eyes is quickly joined by a familiar smirk as she glances down to your lips before returning to look you in the eyes.

Then she steals your heart.

Again.

With that unreasonably sultry lip bite.

Again.

"And I thought the cold was going to be the reason I died tonight," you whisper, quietly enough that only she could hear.

Just in case she hadn't yet properly staked her claim on your heart, Nayeon responds with potentially the only thing more charming than her lip bites; her laughter, which once again resonates across the table directly through your eardrums, across your inner bridge, and into your heart.

You open your mouth, hoping to continue the conversation further, but find yourself abruptly cut off by a sudden series of discordant cacophonies as her phone vibrates harshly against the wooden table.  You watch on in poorly hidden dismay as she checks it and her mirthful expression transforms into a grimace at the messages' contents.

"Ugh, I need to get back to my place," she explains as she begins to gather her things.

"Oh, okay," you sigh.  "Thanks again for letting me sit with you and for the … mostly pleasant conversation."

Her frown fades, revealing hints of the smile hidden within.  "Sure, no problem.  I'm sure Ms. Kim would have wanted me dead if she heard I mistreated her other major source of income."

You can’t help but chuckle at her words, though the laughter feels cheerless in the face of more pressing concerns.  "Am I going to see you again?"

Her eyes stare into your own once more, piercing through to your core.  "Who knows?  We've been coming to this shop as frequently as we have for as long as we have for who knows how long and haven't run into each other until now.  Who's to say it won't take another couple of years until our paths cross again?"

And with that sobering perspective, the girl you’ve come to know as Nayeon stands, giving you only the slightest nod in farewell before stepping away from the table.  You watch her as she takes her first few steps, feeling your heart sink lower and lower as the distance between you grows larger and larger.

tock...

But suddenly, you almost swear you can see a lightbulb go off above her head, causing her to turn and walk back to the table.

"You know, I never did catch your name," Nayeon remarks casually.

Despite the exhilaration of your heart soaring at her return, you try to maintain a neutral expression as you reply, "Perfect, now we both have a reason to meet again."

While it might just be your imagination, you dare to hope that it’s your words that transform her sly smirk into a genuine smile that reaches her eyes.

"Oh yeah?  What's your reason?"

"Who said I only have one?"

With her curiosity sated and ego sufficiently inflated, Nayeon gives you a small smile as a farewell, then turns and walks out of the ramen shop.  And as the clock ticks ever onward and you sit alone at the table, pondering what impact this night might have on the rest of your life, you can only hope that she hasn’t walked away for the final time.

tick...

tock...

tick...

tock...

It really was bearable the first couple of days.

But the days turned to weeks and the weeks turned to months and the months began to feel like years.  And as time mercilessly continues to pass by, you unsurprisingly find yourself increasingly affected by the thought of her.

You realized something was seriously wrong when entire weeks began to blur together and each visit to the ramen shop left you feeling colder and lonelier than your previous visit.  It isn’t long before the intrusive thoughts remodel your mind and claim it as their own, leaving you wondering if you had lost your love for your favorite restaurant and your best chance at love in a single night.  Despite the depressing potential of those dramatic notions, you attempt to cast them aside, instead focusing your efforts on maintaining your previous routine and, more importantly, meeting Nayeon again.

Since you assume Aunt Kim will rat you out to Nayeon if you’re too desperate in your attempts, you choose a more subtle approach.  Instead of showing up every night, you alter your schedule to better fit hers.  The awkward “middle” shifts at your work are rarely prioritized, so you’re easily able to make the change and justify your abnormally late arrivals to the shop.

However, your efforts fall short, leaving you wanting, craving even a glimpse of the radiant smile that graces your dreams far more often than you’d readily admit.  And even though you desperately want to ask Aunt Kim if she’s even seen Nayeon, you’re well aware that outside assistance would break the unspoken rules of the game.  So, even as your heart yearns for her, you choose to continue playing.  Even in the face of defeat, you persevere.

All the while, a nagging feeling remains in the back of your mind.  Though you can’t figure out why, you’re sure you know her from somewhere.  The passage of time allows that nagging to fester, growing exponentially until it becomes all you can think about.

It’s not long before the pressure becomes unbearable, forcing you to cave.  Nayeon’s a fairly popular name, but luckily, you’re able to fall back on her nickname of “Nana”.  Thus, on a day that’s become your new norm, you dedicate part of your shift to searching through Naver pages, eventually finding what you’ve been looking for.  Kind of.

You find that she’s the main dancer and leader of a girl group named woo!ah!, one of the seemingly endless number of new K-Pop groups that’ve slipped under your radar.  As you scroll through the pages and watch video after video, you unsurprisingly enjoy their music, yet feel a sense of unease grow with each passing video.  You’d expected feelings of excitement and joy to burst forth with each of Nayeon’s appearances, but instead you’re met by dread, trepidation, and a plethora of other unpleasant emotions that you can’t identify amidst the maelstrom rampaging in your heart.

You finish their MV playlist depressingly quickly, finding far more questions than answers at the end of this rainbow.  Unfortunately, before you can reach a satisfying conclusion, the clock strikes twelve and begins to sing, signaling the end of your shift.  After packing up your things, you depart, and, following a short bus ride, you arrive at the intersection where you turn right to visit the noodle shop once again.

And an hour later, after you’ve stood in line, placed your order, found somewhere to sit, enjoyed your meal, and looked over every square millimeter of the room, you find yourself alone.

Once.

Again.

tick...

tock...

Seemingly a moment later, you’re surprised to find yourself at home.  You rationalize that your body must have moved on its own and your brain must not have cared to encode the memory of walking this familiar path, but even this explanation leaves you with serious concerns.  As you reach into your pocket and feel the warmth from your fingers being sapped by the key’s cold metal, you simply feel … tired.

What’s the point of changing your routine if your days are bound to end the same as always?

What’s the point of searching for warmth if you continue to be left alone in the cold?

What’s the point of listening to your heart if all it leads you to is the deafening silence of your empty apartment?

You can feel it in the air as you turn the key, open the door, and enter the suffocating silence of your apartment.  The air’s cold.  Heavy.  The room’s dark.  Empty.  And you’re sure.  Ready.  As much as your heart yearns to chase Nayeon, your mind is telling you that it’s time.  Time to return to the routine you’ve relied on for so, so long.  You begin by sending a quick email to your supervisor, requesting a change back to your previous schedule.  Then, after a few more hours that won’t be worth remembering, you willingly wade into the darkness.

You mourn the loss of what could have been.  You allow the clouds to roll in, allow the falling rain to drown out the sounds of your heart beating against its cage and its cries for freedom.  You pray that the storm will wash away the memories of that night.  You hope, as desperately as ever, that you’ll find her.  But if your heart can’t have what it wants, you’ll ask your mind to forget her.

tick…..

tock.

tick…..

tock.

Is it eight days later?  Nine days?  Ten?  Your memory might have failed you again, but routine provides you necessary stability once more, helping you through the motions of working the once familiar morning shift before guiding you through the short bus ride to your stop and the subsequent walk to an always familiar intersection and a newly unwelcome decision.

If you simply continue forwards, you’ll arrive at your apartment, where you know that leftovers and loneliness amidst the silence of solitude awaits.  However, if routine truly is still in the driver’s seat, you’ll turn to your right, towards Aunt Kim’s, where you know that ramen and loneliness amidst the voices of others awaits.

Thus, despite the clear blue sky and the bright sun that signaled the early signs of winter’s departure, decision paralysis sets in.  The light flashes yellow, yet you need to decide, now.  Then, it flashes red, yet you know you need to go.  Finally, the indicator flashes green, yet you remain motionless as the crowd begins to surge past you.

It’s there, in that moment, where you stop fighting anxiety’s powerful pull, allowing it to drag you under, away from your routine.  It’s there, in that moment, where you give up, instead electing to return home.  Yet, it’s there, in that moment, where you feel a gentle tug on your arm and see a flash of warm golden light in your periphery.

"Come on, you gotta get there before it gets busy," Nayeon whispers, mock urgency masking her features and veiling her words.  "Otherwise, you might have to ask some weirdo if you can share a table with them."

You’re all too eager to allow yourself to be dragged along, heart nearly bursting out of your chest as you loudly exclaim, “Nayeon!  I—”

Your words are a jumbled mess, bouncing around the inside of your skull, desperately trying to escape all at once, but you hold them all back as the other pedestrians turn, glaring at you as they judge your sudden outburst.  Once you finish offering meek smiles and apologetic waves, you whisper back, “You’re right, that sounds terrible!  Let’s go!”

As she continues to drag you along, you take the opportunity to study the beaming visage of your guide once more.  The passage of time allows you to view the literal girl of your dreams in a new light, and you find Nayeon’s just as radiant in today’s pleasant sunshine as she was so many weeks ago, hidden away from the harsh snowfalls of the early Korean winter.

"What should I say?" you wonder to yourself as you allow her to lead you down the busy sidewalk.  "Would it be too forward to say I missed her after only meeting her once before?"

A familiar cadence, the ringing of a very particular bell, cuts your internal musings short, shunting you back into reality as Nayeon opens the door to Aunt Kim's ramen shop.  Nayeon finally detaches from your arm, leaving you feeling cold and empty.  Not unlike your freezer that fateful night, so many months ago.

After shaking off the last remnants of your reverie, you step forward and join her in line.  Despite being a fair bit taller than her, you can’t seem to make out what exactly she’s doing on her phone as you both wait to place your order.

It only takes a few moments of snooping before a wave of guilt washes over you as you realize your invasion of her privacy, causing you to shift your gaze elsewhere, to other areas of the shop.  Areas such as the table where you had sat the previous time, which currently sits unoccupied.

"Another missed opportunity," you think to yourself as you grieve the lost potential and come to another realization.  "Not to mention the fact that she held the door for me because I was so lost in thought!  Ugh, you're blowing it!  Stop overthinking everything."

After a few short minutes idly spent looking anywhere except towards Nayeon, all of the customers in line in front of you finish placing their orders and go to find a seat.  You aren’t surprised as Nayeon needs mere moments to recite her clearly well-practiced offer, but you are caught off guard when Aunt Kim leans close to Nayeon, whispering something you can’t make out amidst the low murmur of the crowd inhabiting your second home.

The rational part of your brain informs you that, at most, a few seconds pass.  Your emotions tell a far different story, flooding your overwrought mind with a deluge of disquieting dangers and forcing you to consider each of the painful possibilities and worst-case scenarios that comprise the tsunami attempting to drag you into the depths of self-doubt.  Eventually, the two part, and as Nayeon turns to face you, her mischievous expression and gleaming smile ignites a flame in you, burning away any frost that’s formed since you left her embrace.

Her eyes flick over towards Aunt Kim, seemingly challenging you to approach the elderly woman who stands behind the counter with crossed arms and a dangerously amused expression.  This time, however, Nayeon doesn’t even give your words enough time to get caught in your throat, instead simply walking past you and allowing the silky strands of her hair to brush your shoulder and convey all the intent she needs to.

As you gather what little cognitive function remains, you’re especially grateful for the familiarity of this place as Aunt Kim enters your order with well-practiced quickness.  You’re uncharacteristically afraid of meeting her eyes as you sign your name and begin to enter the same generous tip you’ve always given, but her scoff of indignation as you meekly hold out your hand for your order number forces you to do so.

"So." she says bluntly, withholding the plastic indicator as she awaits your response.

"Yes ma’am?” you ask, voice laced with saccharine innocence.

“Oh gods, don’t tell me that that girl’s stubbornness has infected you too,” Aunt Kim responds exasperatedly.  “You finally managed to meet up with her again, eh?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you respond as you delete your previous number, instead entering an extra-large tip before braving Aunt Kim’s gaze once more, silently conveying your plea for mercy as you literally attempt to buy her silence.

Aunt Kim’s eyes flash down briefly, widening for a moment before a deep, jovial laugh echoes out from her, reverberating throughout the room as she holds your gaze once more.

“All right, act sly all you like.  I'm just tired of seeing someone come in alone fifty times in a row just to spend their time here hoping and searching for a certain someone.”

The banter is unique, odd, and comfortably routine as you ease into its familiar warmth.  Your brow arches dramatically as you declare, “Why Aunt Kim, I can’t stand these accusations!  It’s only been forty-six times since then!”

You watch as Aunt Kim’s smile fades, shifting from a display of mirth to a thin obfuscation of sadness as she responds, “You’re not the only one who’s been sitting alone at a table for two.  Now go!”

And as she pushes your number into your hands and sends your mind into a tailspin, you’re left with no other option but to turn and allow the next customer to set up.  Your body’s autopilot takes over, turning you further until you face the table where this all started, only to find it occupied.

By none other than Nayeon herself.

You lock eyes for the briefest of moments before she avoids your gaze, poorly pretending to be enthralled by the black screen of her phone.  As the slightest hints of confidence begin to emerge from within, you walk up to the table, acting as casually as you can, pulling out a chair and taking a seat across from her.

After offering up a prayer to whoever’s listening, desperately hoping that you wouldn’t blow this chance, you look straight at her and ask, “So, how have you been?”

“Oh, so we’re just getting right into it, huh?” Nayeon asks, already crafting the thin veneer of the haughtiness she’d used to shield herself before.  “Not even going to thank me for saving you a seat?  I know you’ve had issues finding them before.”

You raise your hands up in mock surrender as you admit, “Alright, fair enough.  I am very grateful for your act of charity once again, and I’ll be sure to make it up to you.”

“I’m glad to see you’ve come to your senses,” she declares, obvious satisfaction in her smirk as she nods in approval.  “To answer your question, I’ve been fortunate enough to be busy, so that’s always good.  Aside from work, I guess it’s mostly just been working out, spending time with those I’m closest to, and coming here.  What about you?”

“I’ve …” your voice trails off for a moment, granting you silence as you meticulously craft your next line.  “I’ve had better months, but I honestly can’t complain too much.  Work’s been consistent, so like you said, that’s always good.  Plus, I always have this place to come back to, so that’s a big plus.”

“So, you come here often?” Nayeon asks, waggling her eyebrows in the most tropey, dramatic way possible.  It’s clearly meant to be humorous, and you’re all too eager to reward her efforts with a smile.  You just also hope it buys you time to reclaim the breath she steals so easily.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," you say, chuckling slightly as you struggle against all the unwelcome thoughts and emotions that continuously threaten to boil over.  "Especially the past couple of months, I'm fairly sure I've made a sizeable contribution to the 'Kim Family College Fund'.  What about you, have you also been a generous donor?"

And there it is.  For the first time since that night a lifetime ago, your words strike a chord, and your just reward is the melodious laughter that bursts free from the alluring lips of Nayeon before gently drifting across the table and imprinting itself once again upon your soul.  And all you can wonder is why you’d ever choose to stop chasing her.

After the briefest of stanzas, her mirthful song quiets and her words shift to a whisper.  "Listen, if my friends ever find out just how often I've been coming here and how much I've spent, it’ll be the last day I see the sun!  So shhh!"

The quiet laugh that resonates out straight from your heart may not be planned or voluntary, but anyone paying a modicum of attention can easily tell it’s genuine.  You feel free, weightless even, to an extent you haven’t felt since a certain night so many weeks ago.  And as you savor this moment of warmth, of dethawing even, you’re glad to see that same joy mirrored in the eyes and smile of Nayeon too.

"Alright, fair enough.  Not a word to your friends, and you won't rat me out to mine?  Deal?"

"Deal!" she responds eagerly, extending her hand out to shake yours.

Without hesitation, you reach out and seal the pact, cherishing the influx of warmth generated by even the swiftest second of your fingertips grazing the soft skin of her palm.

But then, just like that, it’s gone.  The briefest moment of contact ends all too soon, and you find yourself in silence once more.

Fortunately, this time it doesn’t last, as Nayeon speaks up once more.

"So … any particular reason you've been around more often recently?" she asks as she looks around in a familiar pattern, seemingly fascinated by the decorations of the place she must have visited hundreds of times.

"I might have a reason," you respond suavely as you lean back in your chair.  "Maybe even a couple."

"Oh yeah?" she asks, ending her search as she reaches her destination: your eyes.  "Pardon my vanity, but is there any chance … I’m one of those reasons?"

In this moment, this secular moment of confession, this seductress needs no lip bites nor any promises of sweet nothings to ensnare your heart even further.  All you need is to look into her eyes, where you see the same earnest anticipation mirrored within your own soul.

So, in this moment, you give yourself no time to second guess yourself, acting on pure instinct as you take out your heart, affix it to your sleeve in full view of everyone within the restaurant, and admit, "Yeah, I mean, you’re the only reason that mattered.  I guess … I was scared of the thought of never seeing you again.  I really missed you."

tick...

Another moment passes.  But this stretch of silence is far shorter than the last and her response is far quicker than last time you’d shared a confession.  This time, it’s her words that shock you.

"Thanks, I … uh, really missed you too," she whispers softly, perhaps trying to preserve the serenity of this moment between the two of you.

tock...

Milliseconds begin to feel like minutes as you desperately rack your brain, searching for an adequate continuation to the conversation.  Fortunately, just as desperation tips over into despair, none other than Aunt Kim comes to your rescue, carrying a pair of bowls in her hands and a complicated collection of emotions across her countenance.

First, she offers Nayeon her warm bowl with an even warmer smile, which Nayeon is happy to return in kind.  Then, just as you recover from being blinded by Nayeon’s radiance, Aunt Kim turns to you, deliberately holding back your bowl as she offers nothing but a quirked eyebrow and an expectant expression.

You raise your hands in surrender once more, internally cursing the developing trend as you ask, “What, Miss Aunt Kim, could you possibly be expecting from me?  Ma’am.”

You aren’t sure if it’s your sheepish expression or Aunt Kim’s sigh of exasperation that sparks it, but whatever semblance of a train of thought you’d begun crafting is sent careening off the rails by the return of that same singsong laughter that’s lifted your spirits up from the depths they’d plummeted to.

While Nayeon continues her chorus of joy, you watch as Aunt Kim’s frosty exterior thaws, causing her to gently place the bowl in your hands before pulling away just the slightest bit.

“I’m just glad things finally lined up,” Aunt Kim says with a knowing smile and another ruffling of your hair that earns another round of laughter from Nayeon.

Finally, that last embarrassment inflicted, Aunt Kim elects to leave you in peace.

After months of waiting, the culmination of all your fantasies is … a conversation.  About nothing.  About everything.  About your job as an editor at a K-Pop news / blog site and how the recent schedule change left you saddled with a writer who’d recently gotten in trouble for “not including all the members when describing a group’s latest comeback” or something.  About her job as an idol and the years of struggle and the stress of debuting and her relationships with her members and fan interactions and on and on and on.

It’s the most mundane human experience you’ve ever had, but it’s warm.  It lasts from your usual arrival time until Nayeon’s usual time of departure, yet time seems to pass by in an instant.  It’s nothing you would have expected yet everything you could possibly ask for, like a waking dream.  It’s almost unfathomable how much you enjoy yourself.

It also has to end.

“Hey,” Nayeon says suddenly, allowing her voice to soften.  “The shop’s closing soon.”

“Oh, right,” you say, feeling your smile fade for the first time in hours.

“We should, uh …”

“Yeah, let’s—”

“Yeah.”

The dusty old chairs creak against the stained floorboards of the shop as you both slowly slide them back, hoping that your sluggish movements will elongate this experience.  Each of you bids farewell to Aunt Kim in your own special way, then turn to depart.  And as you open the door for her and the brisk evening wind leaves you scrambling for the right words, it’s Nayeon who finds her courage first.

“We’ll be performing next Saturday,” she begins, speaking just loud enough for her words to reach your ears before the cruel winds can whisk them away.  “I understand if you’re busy, but—”

“I’ll be there.”

And just as the door closes and you put forth your promise, the jingle of the bells and Nayeon’s relieved laughter join in harmony, creating a melody that wraps itself around you and promises to protect you from the cold.

“I haven’t even told you where it is yet!” she exclaims, meeting your eyes once more.

“Then I should probably give you my number, no?” you counter, holding her gaze as she looks back with the softest eyes and warmest smile.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Nayeon says, eagerly pulling out her phone and handing it to you.

You quickly punch in the digits and hand it back to her, earning a frown in response.

“What is it?”

“You still haven’t told me your name.”

So, you tell her.  And she repeats it back to you.  And it’s no surprise that the sound of your name in her mouth is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.  And you’re still reeling from that when she texts you, “Hi it’s me!🐇”.  And when you finally manage to tear your eyes from the screen, you’re met with the sight of her meekly looking down at the sidewalk below.

“Hey,” you say softly, giving her a moment to meet your eyes before opening your arms.  “You—”

Your words don’t even have a chance to be whisked away by the cruel winds before Nayeon darts over and crashes into your chest, driving the air from your lungs as she wraps her arms around you.  Instinctually, you wrap your own arms around her, holding her close and refusing to let go.

“Stay warm, okay?” you whisper, only for her ears.

“I think I’ll be just fine,” she whispers back, just as softly.

And it’s hard when you two untangle yourselves.  And it’s harder to say goodbye.  And it’s nearly impossible to turn away.  But it’s easy to turn back and look at her.  And you see Nayeon walking, no, almost skipping away down the sidewalk.  And you know that the months-long wait was worth it.  And the next ten days will feel like a decade.

But that’ll be worth the wait too.

tick…

tock…

tick…

tock…

This time, you know exactly how long it’s been.  You’ve checked the clock every hour of the past ten days, desperately awaiting the chance to see her again.  Absolutely dreading the thought of seeing her again.

Your anxiety certainly isn’t helped by the sea of lightsticks and legions of chanting fans wielding them.  Amidst this squall of rabid passion, you can’t help but feel underprepared.  You can’t help but feel nervous.  You can’t help but feel insignificant.

Fortunately, by the time you’re able to make your way up closer to the front, the performances have started and begun to wash away some of that negativity.  You lose yourself in the stages, showing support to these young adults, these kids, who’re giving everything they have to try and achieve their dreams.  It really is an enjoyable way to spend an afternoon.

Yet your throat still dries up when you hear them announce who’s performing next.  All of a sudden, the room floods, dragging you under; the blood rushes in, waves deafening you.

tick…

They come out on stage.

tock…

Your eyes can’t look anywhere else.

tick… tock…

“Nana” says something that you can’t hear.

tick…tock…

They get in position. tick..tock..tick.. They begin. ticktockticktockticktocktick

And then, just like that, it’s over.  The performance ends and the group bids the crowd farewell, leaving you with far fewer thoughts than you anticipated but far more emotions than you’re prepared for.  At the forefront of your mind, a singular idea, the catalyst of the storm, reverberates incessantly with a single realization.

Nayeon’s eyes didn't meet yours a single time throughout the whole performance, yet she spent the entire time smiling brighter than you’ve ever seen.

You somehow manage to stumble through the crowd, moving towards an exit as they roar in excitement at the announcement of the next performers, a group you’ve followed since debut and one you like quite a lot.  A group that doesn’t matter.

It’s only once you get outside, once you’re able to take a moment amidst the early evening air, that your breathing begins to slow.  It’s there that the blood pumping in your ears begins to settle.  It’s there that the vibration on your leg nearly makes you jump out of your skin.  But once you nail the three-point landing, you pull out your phone and read the new message:

Nayeon 🐇 (6:02pm):  Hey, were you able to make it?  I just peeked my head out but couldn’t find you anywhere.

You (6:03pm):  I did!  Sorry, I just stepped outside after watching your performance, needed some air

You (6:03pm):  You guys were great!

Nayeon🐇 (6:03pm):  Awww, thanks so much!!

Nayeon🐇 (6:03pm):  You should come around the back, I wanna introduce you to everyone!

Nayeon🐇 (6:04pm):  Meet me at door E35, I’ll let you in

You (6:06pm):  Sure, I’m on my way

You hit send, finally responding after needing a minute to calm the upswell of sanguine tides that continue to thrash within.  Your steps are heavy, echoing loudly throughout the packed parking lot and even louder in your mind as you begin discerning which feelings surround this storm’s catalyst.  

The unfamiliar feeling doesn’t remind you of the anxiety you’ve faced before, nor does it remind you of the self-doubt you’ve suffered in your past.  No, when you round the corner to see Nayeon’s head poking out the door, looking for you, and you hear the crowd’s thunderous applause, you know exactly which ugly emotion torments you.  And despite having no right to feel the way you do, you know that jealousy gnaws at your core.

So, when Nayeon turns and locks eyes with you, you hope your smile shows delight, not despair.  And while you don’t quite match the radiance of her reaction, you’re inviting enough for her to throw open the door and begin dashing towards you.  Fortunately, your limbs seem to have higher priorities than jealousy, as you too begin closing the distance and opening your arms, meeting her halfway and tightly wrapping your arms around her as she does the same to you.

Your ability to string together sentences escapes you as you hold her close, feeling her heartbeat hammer against your chest at as rapid a pace as your own.

“We should do this more often,” Nayeon murmurs into your chest.

“I mean, sure, I’d be happy to come support your group any time I’m not—”

“No, not that!” she exclaims, giggling slightly as she pulls away just enough to look up at you.  “I mean this.”

And she pulls you in even tighter, leaving you short of breath in more ways than one.

“But also, thank you for coming to see us perform.  You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” you say, heart penning your words before your brain can intervene.  “Anything for you.”

“Anything?” Nayeon asks incredulously, finally breaking the hug as the mischievous glint in her eye returns.  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I stand by my word,” you respond, acting far more confidently than you truly feel.  “Besides, how dangerous could you possibly be?”

“Are you looking to find out?” she asks, smiling deviously as you see the turning gears in her head shift into overdrive.

“Maybe one day,” you say with a shrug.  “Must admit, it’s not high on my list of priorities though.”

“Oh yeah?  What’s number one?”

“Why spoil the surprise?  Gotta keep you coming back somehow.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise as Nayeon scoffs in response.  “Yeah, like that’s a concern.”

“I, uh, thanks?” you sputter, unable to do anything further as the mechanisms of your mind malfunction.

“Oh!” she exclaims, face alight with merriment and mischief alike.  “You are in danger.”

All you can do is shrug.  Why try to hide what you both know to be true?  Why not join her in laughter instead?

“Hey,” you say a few seconds later as you catch a brief glimpse of your breath in the air.  “We should get you inside, it's too cold for you to be out here in a sleeveless top and those ‘shorts’.”

“What do you mean?” Nayeon asks incredulously.  “I think my stylist absolutely nailed it today.”

“Yeah, like anything you wear could look bad,” you scoff.  “I'm just worried about you turning into a popsicle.”

“Oh?  I guess I'll just have to find someone to keep me warm,” she drawls as she walks back to the door.  “You wouldn't mind, would you?”

“Of course not.”

“Of course not,” she repeats, flashing the smallest of smirks your way before turning back and stepping up to the door.  “Anything for me, right?”

“I mean …” you begin to say.  Unfortunately, your train of thought is brought to a screeching halt by the rather rude sound of the unmoving door handle within Nayeon’s grasp.

“Wonderful,” Nayeon says, exasperation coating her words as she runs her fingers through her hair.  “And on the one day I forgot to charge my phone too.”

“You can borrow mine,” you offer, reaching into your pocket and holding it out to her.  “Can you call someone inside who can open it?”

“Yes, I can!” she says, eagerly accepting your offer and taking your phone.  “Give me a second, I'll see if Wooyeon's willing to help.”

A few moments later, after she's punched in the numbers and the phone's begun to ring, she looks up with that same cheeky smile she wears so frequently around you.

“Guess you're stuck with me a bit longer,” she dramatically declares.

“Woe is me,” you respond in kind, pressing the back of your hand to your forehead like you're about to faint.

Nayeon opens her mouth to fire back, but her reply is superseded by a muffled, vaguely familiar voice emanating out from the speaker.

“Hey, it's me,” she remarks casually, as if calling someone from a random number is a totally normal thing to do.  “I need—”

She stops mid-sentence, seemingly allowing the person on the other end to voice their apparently substantial list of frustrations at Nayeon. 

“Yeah, I, uh, sorry about slipping away like that,” Nayeon replies sheepishly as her cheeks flare in an entirely new way.  “It's a very long story that I very much don't want to get into tonight, but can you please come open door E35?  I might have locked myself out.”

It's a tense few moments of silence before Nayeon gets a response.  What you assume to merely be a few words at most still manages to shock Nayeon, leaving her wide eyed as she responds, “That's a lot to ask for just—”

Her words are suddenly cut off by what you assume to be Wooyeon's response, causing Nayeon to roll her eyes in resignation before responding, “Okay!  Sure, fine.  Both rooms, before the performance on Wednesday.  Got it.”

“Alright, see you soon,” she continues.  “And Wooyeon?  Thank you.”

“Here, thanks for letting me borrow that,” Nayeon says, handing you back your phone.

“Of course,” you respond.  “What were you two arguing about?”

“Honestly it was more bargaining than arguing,” Nayeon groans, throwing her head back in frustration.  “A trade I horribly lost, mind you.   Apparently in her mind, a three-minute walk is worth me having to clean both bedrooms at the dorms.”

“That seems … harsh,” you say, earning a shrug in response.

The silence goes unbroken for a minute.  Then another.  But when it's finally broken, it's not by words, but the chattering of teeth.  Hers.

Fortunately, your movements are so instinctual that by the time your brain has even begun to consider overthinking things, you've already taken off your jacket and wrapped it around her.  Nayeon’s shivering swiftly slows, but you leave your arm wrapped around her.  Just in case.

tick…

tock…

It ends up being ten minutes, not three, that you share in silence.  Not that either of you notice or care.

As soon as you hear the handle begin to turn, you immediately pull away, earning the smallest of whines from Nayeon before she too hears the door opening and turns towards it.

“There you are!” both girls exclaim as you see one of the other members from the earlier performance poke her head out.

“What took you so long?” Nayeon asks.  “I thought it'd take four minutes max to find us.”

“Listen, we can discuss whether or not I got lost once you get inside,” Wooyeon huffs in response.  “Come on, it's freezing out here!”

“You're telling me,” you mutter, causing Nayeon to quietly chuckle as she looks up at you with wide, apology-filled eyes.

You both follow Wooyeon inside, where Nayeon introduces you to one another and informs Wooyeon that she had invited you.  After an exchange of slightly awkward bows, Wooyeon speaks up.

“Okay, so this story involves you and a guy, alone, in the middle of a parking lot on a dark and stormy evening?  I don't care how long it is, you're telling me everything.”

“I … fine.  We can talk on the drive back,” Nayeon begrudgingly accepts.

“Good.  Speaking of, we should head back.  Now, preferably.  They're probably waiting on us,” Wooyeon says, shooting you a sympathetic glance.

“Hey, it's alright,” you tell Nayeon as she turns to look at you.  “I'm just glad I got to see you.  The performance and everything else were just icing on the cake.”

“Everything else, huh?” Wooyeon asks, seemingly more invested suddenly.  “How late is this story going to keep me up?”

“Oh relax,” Nayeon scoffs, shaking her head at Wooyeon's instigation attempts.

“But seriously,” she says to you.  “Thanks for being understanding.”

“Also, thanks for this,” Nayeon continues, smirking at you as she points to your jacket.

“Of course,” you immediately respond.  “Anything for you.”

You watch as Nayeon’s cheeky expression morphs into confusion, like your response was outside the rules of the game you’re both playing.

“I, uh, thanks?” she sputters.  But that confusion doesn't last, and a warm smile is quick to replace it.

“Here then,” she murmurs, closing the distance between you two quicker than you're able to respond.  “This is for you.”

And there's a lot of small details that you'll forget in hindsight.  Like the way Nayeon stands up on her tiptoes, or how she tilts her head just the slightest bit, or even the glittery eyeshadow that gleams in the light.  But there's one detail you'll remember.  Because you'll never forget the feeling of her soft lips against your cheek.

You can't help but hate the moment she pulls away.  But when she locks eyes with you, you're brave enough to hope that you'll feel that sensation again.

“Bye,” she whispers.

“Bye.”

“...”

“...”

“Bye?” Wooyeon says, offering you a slightly awkward wave as you turn to face her.

You look back to Nayeon, and neither of you can help but laugh at Wooyeon's shell-shocked expression.  One theatrical sigh and an eye roll later, Wooyeon turns and begins to walk away.

“Bye Wooyeon!” you call out at the retreating form.  “Hopefully next time we meet, it'll be a little more normal!”

“Hard not to be!” she calls back, earning another duet of laughter from you and Nayeon.

“I should probably follow her,” Nayeon says.  “We're performing Wednesday night, so I guess I'll see you at the shop on Thursday?  Unless you—”

“I'll be there,” you say, fighting back the jealous feelings that surge up at the thought of her performing again.

“You're the best,” she says, throwing her arms around you for the briefest of moments before turning and hurriedly following Wooyeon.  “I'll text you the location!”

“Sounds good, see you there!” you call out in response.  You can't help but feel glued to the floor as you watch her walk away, remaining motionless until she rounds a corner and leaves you alone in the hallway.

An odd mix of emotions twirls around your mind as you depart the building.  Many of them, the vast majority even, are undeniably positive.  But voices, ones eerily similar to those found in the fanchants from earlier, echo in the back of your mind and entrench those unshakable feelings of jealousy.

But even as the bus takes you away and you pray to reach home before the rain begins to fall, you know that this inner storm isn't one you can outrun.

tick…

tock…

tick…

tock…

You hope that you’re as good at hiding your emotions as you think you are.  Because the way you feel when you’re with Nayeon, your friend, when you’re both excitedly talking a little louder than you should be and occasionally have to pause the conversation to apologize to the other customers nearby, it’s euphoric.  It’s exhilarating.  It’s everything you could have ever dreamed of and more.

And it could not be more different than the way you feel when you’re with “Nana”, the idol.  Because you should still feel that euphoria, that elation.  You have no reason not to, especially since Nayeon acts the same way, even going so far as to find time somewhere in her crazy schedule when you two can meet.  The joy you find in those moments should be enough.  But your jealousy proves gluttonous, leaving you with an awful feeling in the pit of your stomach that grows harder to ignore.  It’s inescapable.  It’s everything you can’t control threatening to take away everything you hold dear.

And you haven’t the slightest fucking clue what to do.

Unfortunately, the tempest doesn’t give you much time to find a solution before boiling over.  It’s only a couple of weeks and a handful of performances later when Nayeon pulls you into a small alcove hidden amongst the towers of sound equipment and piles of wires.  Almost immediately, she begins sharing a story about a fan interaction, further fanning the flames of the ugly side of your emotions.

It’s not long before you’re overwhelmed by the turbulent emotions within.  Nayeon’s in the middle of a sentence when you lean in, cupping her cheek in one hand as you press your lips against hers.  You kiss her gently at first, but after her initial shock, she begins to kiss you back.  Firmly.  Insistently.  You let the sounds of the nearby stage abate, allowing yourself to instead lose yourself in the only senses that matter right now.

Like how the smell of her conditioner reminds you of coconuts and cherry blossoms.  Or how she tastes sweeter than honey.  Or how her lips are somehow softer than clouds.

You pull away only once oxygen deprivation forces you to, leaving you both staring at each other as you desperately attempt to catch your breath.

“I’m so sorry,” you say as soon as you’re able to.  “I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Nayeon interjects.  “Shut up and kiss me again.”

This time, she catches you off-guard as she leans in, pulling your head down slightly as she kisses you with as much intensity as before, if not more.  You’re more than willing to match her zeal, eliciting murmurs of satisfaction and small gasps for air from her as you battle back and forth.

It’s intense.  It’s electrifying.  It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and—

“There you are—oh!”

You and Nayeon hastily separate and turn to face the unexpected spectator, finding none other than poor Wooyeon and her shell-shocked expression awaiting you once again.

“Wooyeon?!  I, you, we, uh …” Nana says, trailing off mid-sentence as she steps away from you and attempts the futile task of trying to return her hair to some semblance of normalcy.

“We have to figure out a better way for you to introduce me to your friends,” you tell Nana, earning a stare of disbelief from her and an unexpected bit of melodious laughter from Wooyeon.

“You seriously do!” Wooyeon exclaims, fanning her face in an attempt to disperse the crimson flooding her cheeks.  “Honestly, I hate that they keep sending me to find you two, why can't it be Sora getting traumatized for once?”

“Because they know you're way too good at finding things for your own good, especially us apparently,” Nayeon says, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“Oh, don't worry!  I won't tell …” Wooyeon trails off for a moment, looking at Nayeon slyly.  “Too many people.”

“Hey!” Nayeon exclaims.  “Be careful what you wish for, I'm sure plenty of people would be interested in my stories about you.”

“That wasn't what I'd hoped to hear, but you can write me an apology later,” Wooyeon fires back, turning her head away from Nayeon to hide the red that refuses to leave her cheeks.  “I hate to do this again, but we really do need to get going.”

Nayeon's indignation seems to flare even further as she steps closer to Wooyeon, but you can't help but chuckle at the image of the shorter Nayeon attempting to intimidate the much taller Wooyeon.  Nayeon spares a moment to glare at you before turning back to Wooyeon and saying, “Listen, I'm sure we can—”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” you interject.  “I’m sure we’ll have time to talk later, right Nayeon?”

“Oh sure, I’m positive that she’ll have plenty of time for a lovely conversation later,” Wooyeon comments, earning a glare from Nayeon that’d likely be scathing if not for the obvious embarrassment coloring her countenance.

“Hey, not so loud!” you jest, smiling just as wide as Wooyeon.  “Seriously though, I really am sorry Wooyeon.   I’ll make it up to you sometime, hopefully next time I see you.  Surely next time we meet it’ll be more normal, right?  Surely?”

“Suuurrrelyyyy,” Wooyeon responds, stringing out the single word just long enough to fit every emotion other than sincerity into its delivery.  She takes the opportunity to step away from Nayeon, who seems temporarily frozen between states of frustration, embarrassment, and something else entirely.

“Hey, no worries,” you gently tell Nayeon, taking her hands in your own and turning her to face you.  “Your members need you.”

“Besides, you should probably go willingly before Wooyeon drags you back, kicking and screaming the whole way,” you joke, smiling as Wooyeon grins and hums in agreement.

“Surely you wouldn't do that to me, right Wooyeon?” Nayeon asks, turning and pouting at her in an exaggeratedly cute manner.

“The option's never been more tempting,” Wooyeon replies, sticking out her tongue in response.

“Okay okay fine, I surrender,” Nayeon tells her, raising her hands in a manner all too familiar to you before turning back to you.  “I'll see you Saturday?”

“Wouldn't miss it for anything,” you tell Nayeon, pulling her into a tight hug that finally dispels the vast amount of tension she'd built up in such a short time.

“Neither would I,” Nayeon murmurs back before pulling away just enough to capture your lips one final time.

“Alright, let's go,” Nayeon tells Wooyeon, interlocking arms with her as they begin to walk away.

“So, for the first part of my apology, I want …” Wooyeon's voice trails off as they walk out of earshot.  But you remain in place, watching their retreating forms until they leave your field of view.  And then perhaps a minute longer, just in case.

But eventually, you also turn away and begin your departure.  The only topic on your mind as you walk, ride the bus, and then walk again on your journey to reach your home is the storm of emotions within.  On the one hand, it gave you the confidence to act in a way you wouldn't have been willing to normally, leading to an amazing and memorable moment.  But on the other hand, you can't shake the feeling that this upswell wasn't the final manifestation of these detrimental feelings.  All you can do is hope that if they do flare again, that night won’t be memorable for all the wrong reasons.

tick…

tock…

As you walk alongside Nayeon, you can’t help but marvel at how normal this new norm feels.  Even just a few weeks ago, you would have desperately lunged at the chance to see Nayeon a single time, but now, seeing her multiple times a week feels routine.  Normal.  Unremarkable?

Definitely not unremarkable, as the memory of your arms wrapped around her waist and her lips pressed against your own is just as vivid as it felt in that moment a few nights ago.  Even the restlessness of flaking on the group’s performance for the first time last night feels insignificant in comparison to the contentment you feel right now.

Which is why it’s so jarring when you’re met by a “CLOSED” sign on the shop’s door for the first time ever.

“‘Apologies for the sudden closure’,” you read aloud.  “‘We’re visiting family this weekend and will be closed for the next couple of days.’”

“‘We’ll be open once again on Monday.  We hope to see you then!’” Nana concludes.  “I mean, I hope she has a nice time, but what do we do now?”

“I mean, I’m sure we can find somewhere else that sounds good.  There are a couple places nearby that I usually order delivery from,” you offer.

“Wait, isn’t your place nearby?” she asks, earning a nod in response.  “Why don’t we just pick something up on the way and eat there?  We could watch a movie too, it’ll be fun!”

“Wait wait wait,” you say, mind reeling at the implications.  “Did you just invite yourself into my apartment?”

“Yep!” Nayeon announces, shame nowhere to be found within that radiant smile.  “Now figure out which chicken place you want to order from and let’s go!”

All you can do is laugh at the absurdity of the situation as you pull out your phone and do as she asks.  After a few minutes of walking and a quick stop to pick up food, you arrive at your apartment.  Your one-bedroom apartment might pale in comparison to some of the more upscale living areas in Seoul, but you genuinely appreciate the place you call your home, and you show it to Nayeon with pride.  After a brief tour, you both unpack the large assortment of dishes that usually accompany any Korean meal and begin your dinner.

“How was your performance last night?” you ask her, forcing yourself to smile even as the initial hints of your jealousy begin to stir.

“It went well, thank you!” Nayeon responds, smiling softly at you.  “The fan turnout was amazing, so it was super easy to enjoy performing for them.  What about you, how was your night?”

“Pretty good, thank you for asking,” you say, attempting to match the warmth of her smile but unable to due to the ice in your heart.  “It was a pretty unremarkable evening in general, but I did appreciate the chance to catch up on some much-needed sleep.”

“That’s good to hear!  I missed having you there, but I’m glad you were able to rest.”

“Thank you.  I’m sorry for not being there to support you, but at least Wooyeon got to enjoy a night where she didn’t have to hunt us down.”

“She actually told me that she was sad you weren’t there!  She said on the ride over that she was sure last night was going to be your guys’ first ‘normal’ conversation.”

“Really?  That’s unfortunate, hopefully it’ll happen next time I see her.”

“Hopefully!” Nayeon agrees, and you both go back to enjoying your dinner.  

A few minutes later, once you’ve both finished and cleared away the table, you pull out your favorite oversized blanket and lounge on the couch, inviting Nayeon to join you.  She’s more than happy to oblige, taking the remote from you and immediately pulling up some recently released horror sequel.  You can’t help but voice your surprise, but your concerns are swiftly and eagerly shut down as she gets up and begins messing with the light switches, trying different combinations in an attempt to properly set the mood.  Once she finally achieves her desired lighting, she hops back onto the couch, pulling the blanket over herself and laying against your side.

As she snuggles in closer, you do your best to relax and simply enjoy the experience.  And, if nothing else, the experience is certainly entertaining, as Nayeon seems to be terrified of the jump scares that seem to occur every couple of minutes.  Yet despite her screams, she refuses every time you ask if she wants to watch something else, insisting that she’s having a great time.  Well, for the first hour at least.

“Can I ask you something?” Nayeon says suddenly as she pauses the movie.

“Of course,” you say, your mind flooding with concerns and thoughts of worst-case outcomes.

“Is everything alright?” she asks, sitting up and turning to face you.

“Like, right now?  Couldn’t be better,” you respond, fighting through your concern as you offer a strained smile.

“Mostly just in general, but you don’t seem relaxed even now, despite the fact that we’re under this stupidly soft blanket on this insanely comfy couch,” Nayeon says, smiling for a moment before her expression shifts back to seriousness.  “But honestly, you’ve seemed kinda off for a while.  It's not all the time, but often enough for me to be concerned.  Is there something you want to talk about?”

“No, it’s okay, I—” You stop yourself, searching through the dark and finding nothing but obvious care and trust in her eyes.  So, knowing you can do better, you start over.

“I’m not going to lie to you.  I promise I won’t.  So, yeah, there’s something that’s bothering me, but it’s … hard to explain.  I don’t want to hide anything from you—and I promise I will tell you, but I don’t know the words to tell you what I want to say right now.  Can I ask you to be patient with me, just for a little bit?”

“Okay,” she says, visible concern on her face as she nods.  “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Thank you, I really appreciate it,” you say, awkwardly turning back to the TV.

You’re unable to focus on the rest of the movie, deafened by the silence between you two and shivering from a coldness unrelated to the setting sun.  Even once it’s over and Nayeon gets ready to leave, neither of you are able to put on a convincing enough performance to hide your emotions.  You exchange awkward goodbyes, waving farewell instead of hugging like you’ve always done as she walks away.

Thus, it’s anything but surprising when, mere hours later, the girl of your dreams becomes the subject of your nightmares.  Spectral visions of her pained expression haunt you as the thoughts of causing her stress, pain, and suffering bind and isolate you.  You swear you can hear the haunted cackling of the manifestations of anxiety and jealousy in your mind as they cast a spotlight on your inability to quell the storm.  And as the nightmare begins to fade and you feel yourself being dragged away from her, you finally get it.

As soon as you awaken, unsurprisingly covered in sweat, you immediately grab your phone and begin composing a series of messages.  Because you refuse to let your selfishness hurt someone else, especially Nayeon.

You (5:01am): Hey, I’m so, so sorry about last night, especially how it ended

You (5:01am):  There’s somewhere I’d love to show you, it’s a private place where we should be able to spend some time together and talk

You (5:01am):  If you have an afternoon free sometime soon, please let me know

You (5:02am):  Thanks so much

Between the restless night and the anxiety of hoping for a response, the miserable day you end up having is anything but a surprise.  You check your phone at every available opportunity, but the response you're hoping for never arrives.

It isn't until after you return home, when you're sitting alone in the stale air of your frigid, empty apartment that Nayeon answers.

Nayeon🐇 (5:01pm): Hey, I'm so sorry for taking so long to respond, there were a lot of things I ended up needing to take care of today

Nayeon🐇 (5:01pm): Does tomorrow work?  I'm sorry if it's sooner than you were expecting …

You (5:02pm): No, that would actually be perfect!  Thank you so much, I'll send you the address

You press send, feeling a great weight lifted off your shoulders as you confirm the location and time with her.  Unfortunately, just as you feel yourself begin to relax, your mind begins compiling a list of the things you’ll need for tomorrow.

So, once again, you bundle up and step outside to face the harsh winds.  But this time, as the grocery store comes into view, you're eager to brave the storm.  Because you know what's waiting for you on the other side.

tick…

tock…

Noon.  The brightest point of the day.  A time of warmth.  An important part of any day for a multitude of reasons.  Specifically, the most important part of today because it's when you plan to meet Nayeon.

You scramble onto the bus just in time, sighing in relief as you check the clock and see that you’re scheduled to arrive a bit early, just as you’d hoped.  So, with a bit of free time during the thirty-eight-minute journey awaiting you, you first check all your belongings, happily confirming that nothing's been lost in transit.  You look out the window, frowning slightly at the clouds slowly rolling across the sky, blocking out the clear sky you'd hoped would be the backdrop to this crucial day.  You cast that aside, choosing instead to focus on what you can control.  Like what exactly you want to say to her.  How you want to convey your feelings to her.

Is this a confession?  A request?  An invitation?  A farewell?  No, you know it's definitely not a farewell.  But you still don't know what exactly you want to tell her.

Actually, that's not entirely true either, because when you’re with her, you can't help but want to talk to her about anything and everything.  But just for today, you hope that you can be greedy.  You hope that you'll somehow find the exact words you need to convey how you feel.  The exact words she needs to hear.  The exact words that'll help you solve this problem.  The exact words she wants to hear.  The exact words that'll steal her heart.

A familiar little robotic voice echoes throughout the bus, informing you that you’ve arrived.  You gather up your blanket, basket, and jacket, then exit the bus and turn to walk towards your destination.

As you slip your sunglasses on, you look around, smiling slightly at the memories resurfacing at the sight of so many familiar shops from your past.  You see the pet store where you cried because your mom wouldn't buy you a chinchilla for your fifth birthday.  You see the small ice cream shop where you celebrated your first soccer tournament victory with your friends.  You see the hair salon where the stylist always teased you for growing out your hair over your ears as a teenager.

And when you turn the corner, you see the bridge where you had your first kiss.  There, standing alone, a familiar flash of gold hides beneath a cap and scarf, and the sight of her finally makes you see the truth.  Waiting for you atop that bridge, you see your first love.

“Of course.”

Your knuckles whiten as they tightly grip the wooden handle of the basket.  You feel your legs attempt to lock up, but you force yourself to break free of anxiety's cold grip and begin to close the distance.  You barely make it onto the small bridge before she perks up at the sound of your footsteps and turns to face you.

“Hey, I'm so sorry for making you wait, I tried to be here as soon as—”

“No, no, don’t worry about it,” Nayeon says, lips upturned in a hint of a smile.  “I’m used to being the first one to arrive and I only got here a couple minutes ago.”

You both pause for a moment, an uncharacteristically awkward silence filling the air between you two as you both search for the right thing to say.

“Thanks for inviting me here,” Nayeon says after a few moments.  “I've never been to this neighborhood before.”

“No, thank you for being willing to come, especially so soon!” you quickly respond.  “I’m sorry for being vague about it earlier, but this is actually where I grew up.”

“Oh really?” Nayeon asks, looking around with a renewed interest.  “I'm sure you have so many stories to tell about this place!”

“Something like that,” you say meekly, looking down at the sidewalk.  Where you remember standing as you kissed your first crush so many years ago.  Where you remember standing as your tears hit the pavement when that same girl said goodbye for the last time.  Where you stand now, hoping that you can convince the best thing that's ever happened to you to stay.

“Well then, where are we going?” Nayeon asks.  “Don't tell me you're going to ask me to cheat on Aunt Kim by going to another noodle shop!”

“Of course not!” you exclaim, feeling your vigor return as you laugh with her.

“That's probably for the best.  I don't suppose it's that ice cream store either?” Nayeon asks excitedly.

“Maybe after,” you say, chuckling at her dramatic pout.

“I did come with a plan for lunch,” you continue, holding up the basket and showing it to her.

“Oh, that's amazing!” Nayeon exclaims, finally closing the distance between you two and hugging you tightly.  “You're the cutest!”

You're initially baffled by Nayeon, who's so much shorter than you, calling you cute, but you're more than willing to bite back your response and simply hold her close.  After a minute or so, you force yourself to pull away.

“Alright, so where are we going?” Nayeon asks as her eyes eagerly explore the area.

“It's about a fifteen-minute walk from here, maybe twenty if you want me to act as a tour guide.”

“I'm in no rush when I'm with you,” Nayeon immediately responds.  “Tell me everything.”

After taking a second to make sure your heart hasn’t overloaded, you extend your hand to her.  “Alright, but only because it's you.  Follow me.”

Nayeon happily obliges, and with her hand in yours, you begin the journey upstream through the sands of time.  You spend the first few minutes of the walk pointing out the local stores and restaurants that you fondly remember, initially avoiding any mention of places associated with less flattering memories.  But as you continue on and grow more comfortable, you begin to share all of the most memorable pieces of your past, much to the delight of Nayeon, who's happy to laugh with and at you as you tell her about the defining moments of your childhood.

After roughly ten minutes, you come to a stop, staring up at one tall, gray building in particular amongst the half-dozen duplicates in the area.

“What about this place?” Nayeon asks, noticing your hesitation.

“This is … the place I grew up,” you explain.  “My parents and I lived in this apartment building until I graduated high school and went off to college.”

“Oh, so this was your home?”

“You could say that, but I don't think of it that way.  This is the place where I lived, but it isn't the place where I made the most memories.”

“Hmm, I think I understand.  Did you have a place you'd call your home instead?”

“I did,” you confirm, gripping her hand tighter.  “We're going there now.”

You continue on, allowing the air to grow quiet as you walk under the canopy of trees hanging over the path between two streets.  After a few minutes of this comfortable contemplation, you speak up.

“I know this is gonna sound weird but hear me out.”

“That's certainly one way to start a conversation,” Nayeon jokes, squeezing your hand slightly.  “But sure, I'm listening.”

“I really appreciate how easy it is to just … enjoy being with you,” you explain.  “How you make me feel comfortable even when we're being quiet, because just being together is enough.”

“Uh huh.  And you wanted to convey this to me by breaking the silence to do so?”

“Listen, I … yeah, I guess so.  I just wanted to let you know how you make me feel.  I'm far from the best with words, as I'm sure you've noticed.”

“I might have,” she jokes, pulling herself closer against your side.  “But I don't think you give yourself enough credit.”

“Oh?  Why do you say that?”

“Because I already knew you felt that way,” Nayeon says, looking up at you with bright eyes and a brighter smile.  “And because I feel the same way too.”

You share a few more minutes of soft silence as you walk along the road, traveling under the canopy until it parts and you see the clouds above.  A couple of streets and turns later, you arrive at your destination.

“This is the park where I used to play soccer,” you explain.  “To your right is where I scored a goal to win a tournament match, and if you look wayyy in the back left, you can see where I made an opponent so angry, he shoved me to the ground and nearly broke my wrist.”

“Oh wow!” Nayeon exclaims, covering her mouth as a snippet of laughter threatens to escape.  “You must have a lot of fond memories of this place.”

“Yeah …” you say, trailing off as you cast your mind back to those times ten, fifteen years ago.  “I made a lot of friends—and enemies—on these fields.”

“Do you still keep in touch with many of them?  Your friends, not your enemies,” she clarifies.

“No, almost none of either group actually,” you admit.  “It gets hard when people move away and college or work takes over your life.  I make sure to stay in contact with one, my best friend from those times, but even that’s a bit of a struggle.  I haven’t seen him in who knows how many years, just talked with him online.”

“I—wow…” Nayeon says, eyes sweeping the empty grass that you’ll always remember as full of life.  “I can’t even imagine being separated from Wooyeon.”

“Well, it’s probably different when you see each other, what, 350 days out of the year?” you point out.

“That’s fair,” she admits, finally releasing that pent-up chuckle.  “Thank you for showing me this, I’m sure it means a lot to you.”

“Of course,” you say, offering her a smile.  “Now I want to show you the place that became my home.”

“Then let’s go!” Nayeon announces, returning your smile and allowing you to lead her across the expanse that seemed endless when you were younger.

Eventually, you reach a small chain link fence, which you follow until you’re met with the familiar sight of a rusted gate with a faded combination lock.

“Let’s hope they haven’t changed this,” you say, mostly to yourself, as you input the code: 090301.

To your great joy—and mild surprise—it unlatches, allowing you to open the gate and lead Nayeon inside.  Within, you easily navigate through the branches and brush, memories coming back in a rush as you delve deeper and deeper.  After about a minute, you arrive, pulling back a branch and allowing Nayeon to pass by you into the small clearing.  Surrounded on all sides by trees, a pair of smooth, plateau-like rocks sit a couple meters from a softly flowing creek, granting you both the solitude that this private sanctum had always blessed you with.

“This is it,” you explain, nearly whispering the words as Nayeon takes in the scene.  “This was … everything, really.  This is where I came when I needed to think, needed to decompress, or … needed to know what I needed, I guess.”

“This is incredible!” Nayeon says, eyes wide as she frenetically scours every centimeter of the area, committing it to memory.  “How did you even find this place?”

“Everyone I’ve ever brought here has asked me that exact question,” you say, a sentimental smile spreading across your face.  “But I’ll tell you the same thing I told the other two; I feel like it honestly found me.  I just … went out looking for a sign of something on a night where I needed direction and found myself here.”

“This is actually the first time I’ve come here since moving away for college,” you continue.  “It’s crazy how as much as things change, they stay the same.”

“I guess so …” Nayeon says, trailing off before turning and meeting your eyes.  “Thank you for bringing me here.  I can tell this place holds a special place in your heart and I deeply appreciate you sharing it with me.”

“Of course,” you say after a moment, struggling to formulate words under the intensity of her gaze.  “You hold a special place in my heart too, so I appreciate you trusting me and coming here with me.”

Nayeon is content to let her smile be her response, so you lay out the blanket across the smooth rocks and take a seat on one, gesturing towards the other.  “Come on, let’s talk.”

“Talk?” she asks, implication obvious in her voice as her eyes harden.

“Talk,” you confirm with a nod.

“Okay,” Nayeon whispers, barely loud enough for you to hear above your pounding heartbeat as she takes a seat beside you.  She shakes her hands like they’ve gone numb, then continues, “Please, tell me what’s going on.  Everything that’s going on.”

“Nayeon, I want to make sure you know something, something very important,” you tell her, earning a nod in response.  “I care about you.  So much.  Maybe too much.  I know I haven’t been returning the warmth that you’ve shared with me, and for that, I am so sorry.”

You pause, release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, and deeply inhale before continuing, “It’s just—sometimes when I’m with you, negative emotions start building up inside me that feel like a storm threatening to pull me under.  Sometimes, I can’t help but feel jealous when I see you on stage or when you talk about your fans, because it feels like there’s so many of them and I’m just … me.  I feel like they’ve known you longer, seen more of you, and that you can’t help but prioritize them because your job depends on it.  I know I shouldn’t feel this way, and I know that it’s selfish.”

You force yourself to stop and look at her.  She sits patiently, listening attentively as she nods once again, waiting for you to continue.  So, you do.  “I want you to know, more than anything else, that none of this is your fault.  And I am so, so sorry for putting you in this position.  But after you asked me if everything was alright, I knew that I couldn’t hide it from you any longer.  I knew that if I kept this inside, it would boil over and end up hurting you in the process.  And I can’t allow that to happen—I can’t let you get hurt because of how I feel—but I can’t walk away without telling you the truth.  And I know I have no right to do this to you and I understand if you’re upset and if you want me to leave I—”

“Hey, hey, listen to me,” Nayeon says softly, cupping your face in her ever so delicate hands.  “Thank you, so much, for telling me this.  I don’t and won’t ever blame you for feeling those kinds of feelings. I wish I could tell you that I understand and that everything will be alright, but I can't.  Honestly, I probably won’t ever truly be able to.”

“But I need you to trust me when I tell you that you mean everything to me,” she continues.  “And I need you to trust me when I tell you I’m willing to face this problem as long as it’s by your side.  And when I say that we can get through this, together, I mean it with every fiber of my being and all of my heart.  All I can ask is that you put your faith in me, in yourself, and most importantly, in us.  Can you do that for me?”

“Just like that?” you ask, dumbfounded.  “I’m being completely unfair, presenting you with this problem, and you’re somehow still willing to give me more support?”

“For you?  Absolutely,” she responds resolutely.  “I don’t know if I’d ever be able to piece my heart back together if you broke it by leaving.”

“Then yes, I—Yes,” you declare, placing your hands on hers and holding them tightly.  “Absolutely, I can.  I will.  I promise.”

She beams with joy, immediately responding, “Anything for me, right?”

You gently pull her hands away from your face, interweaving your fingers with hers as you tell her, “Of course Nana, it’s always been you.  You’ve been the only thing that matters to me since the moment I saw you.  It’s always been you and always will be.”

You watch as her eyes go wide.  “You’ve never called me that before.”

“I guess so …” you say, trailing off as the realization hits you too.  “I’m sorry if you’d—“

You stop yourself as Nana untangles her fingers from yours in an instant, wrapping her arms around you and squeezing you so tightly that it’s nearly impossible to continue.

“Please say something,” you manage to get out, chuckling awkwardly.  “I kinda just poured my heart and soul out to you and I’d really appreciate you sharing your thoughts.”

“My arms are getting tired from how tightly I’m hugging you and you still need me to tell you what I’m thinking?” Nana scoffs, nuzzling into your chest and refusing to let go.

“Fair point,” you admit, contentedly wrapping your arms around her, though nowhere near as tightly as she’s hugging you.  “Thank you, Nana.”

“For what?  The hug?” she asks, somehow squeezing you even tighter.

“I mean, yes, the hug is amazing, but that isn’t what I meant,” you choke out.  “For being so good to me.  From that first day we met all the way until today, I feel like I’ve been the one with the problem and you’ve been the one with the solution.”

“Maybe, but that won’t always be the case,” Nana responds, loosening her hold on you just enough to allow you to breathe again.  “And if a storm comes and attempts to drag me under, I like to believe you’ll be there, holding on for dear life and refusing to let go.”

You don’t even try to respond verbally, instead releasing your hold on her and using your newly free hand to cup her chin.  As your thumb slowly traces patterns across the soft skin of her cheek, the rest of your body closes what little distance remains between you, allowing you to brush the faintest of kisses onto her lips.  You kiss her gently, tenderly, barely making any contact as your lips land on hers and then depart before she can kiss you back.  You repeat these featherlight flits over and over again, attempting to convey all the feelings you’ve left unsaid.  And finally, when she tightens her hold on you and mewls in frustration, you fervently capture her lips and refuse to be the one who pulls away.

Your conviction ends up just barely lasting long enough for Nana to pull away first, but the light-headedness and dizziness that blocks your view of the only thing you want to be seeing right now is a powerful reminder that oxygen is, in fact, important.  For a short while, the sound of both of you panting is the only sensation that keeps you tethered to consciousness.  But eventually, when you manage to part the darkness and open your eyes, you’re met with the sight of Nana, her chest expanding and contracting just as rapidly as yours as you both amend your oxygen deficits.  And if her smudged lipstick, flushed face, and wild, wide eyes staring into yours are any indication, you’re fairly confident she’s satisfied with your response.

“So … lunch?”

“Just like that?” she asks, dumbfounded.  “You literally take my breath away and that’s all you have to say?”

“Oh, I did have something else!” you remark, acting far more nonchalantly than you feel.  “I love you, Nana.”

It can’t be instantaneous.  But you don’t quite know how it happens either.  Your heart skips a beat when you see a blur of motion in your periphery, then you blink and you’re on the ground with Nana holding you down.  Somewhere around the second or third second of Nana kissing you, it finally connects in your mind.  She actually just tackled you off the rock.

“I—love—you—too,” Nana tells you, whispering each word into your ear in the moments between her own featherlight kisses.  Your heart soars at her reciprocation of your feelings, and as soon as she decides the time for words is over, you’re more than happy to oblige.  She melts into you as you wrap your arms around her back and return her kiss, matching her fervor and maybe even exceeding it.  You both know to pull away much sooner than you did last time, respecting the harsh lesson your bodies had given you.

“You know, a little warning would be nice,” you tease, smiling up at her.

“You’re one to talk!” Nana exclaims, hitting your chest with one small hand as she fans her crimson visage with the other.  “Don’t you know that it’s downright irresponsible to just drop something on me like that?”

“To be fair, I was under the impression that we both expected you to be the responsible one here,” you say, bringing out your puppy eyes and painting faux innocence across every centimeter of your face.

“I … you … ugh!” she grumbles, a rainbow of emotions flashing across her face before she finally leans away from you.  “Yes dear, lunch sounds wonderful.”

It’s right then when you realize another thing that makes Nana special.  She makes your cheeks hurt with how much you smile around her.  And even minutes later, after you’ve both gotten up, unpacked the basket, and you’ve both begun to eat the home cooked meals out of the little plastic containers they’re stored in, the smile she so easily coaxes out of you hasn’t left your face.

“I didn’t get to say it earlier after you blindsided me, but thank you too,” Nana says midway through your meal.

“Blindsided is a bit rich coming from you, the only person here who literally tackled the other, but I digress,” you respond, smiling warmly at her amused smirk.  “What for?”

“For being my friend,” she says, turning away from you and staring into the woods.  “It’s … hard to make friends as an idol.  There are so many expectations for how we’re meant to behave and we’re often too busy to really spend time with others.  I really appreciate your willingness to be flexible and even come to our performances, especially now that I know how it was affecting you …”

“Of course, I’m always happy to be flexible, it’s for you,” you tell her, taking her hand in yours.  “Even if you’re only able to spare a few minutes after each performance, I’m sure we could make it work.”

“But it doesn’t have to only be then, that’s not fair to either of us,” she says, squeezing your hand back.  “Days like this are worth clearing my schedule for.”

“Wait, you cleared your schedule for today?  To see me?  Yesterday?  Before you even knew if I was available?” you ask, receiving a quartet of nods in response.

“That’s why I took so long to respond yesterday, I was running around taking care of all my responsibilities in the dorm and doing the choreography practice I’d planned to do today,” Nana explains.  “I trusted that you’d make it work.  When I saw your text that early in the morning, I figured that you hadn’t been able to sleep either.”

“Wow … I … didn’t even realize … thank you for doing so much for me,” you say, idly tracing circles against the back of her hand.  “But truly, I am always happy to see you, regardless of time or circumstance.  I’m really looking forward to seeing you perform in the future; it’ll be nice to be able to really enjoy you doing what you love without jealousy blinding me.”

“That’s great to hear!” she responds, turning back and smiling at you.  “You taking the time to come see us means so much to me … the first thing I do whenever I get on stage is find you in the crowd.”

“Oh, I—oh.  Thank you,” you say, grateful that you manage to reply before those words join the rest in vacating your mind.

“Of course!” Nana responds, smiling warmly at you before you both return to your lunch.  After you both finish your meals, you look up to the sky, grimacing as you see the consolidation of the clouds as they blot out the sun.

“Hey, Nana,” you say, pointing up to the sky as she turns to you.  “We should definitely get going before we end up stuck in the rain.”

“Okay,” she says, nodding resolutely.  “Let’s get packed up and go.”

You both work together in harmony, loading the containers back into the basket in a fraction of the time it took to unload them.  You take her hand once more, hastily leading her along the trails and roads you've traversed alone countless times.

“We might have to skip the ice cream today,” you tell Nana as you both quickly walk down the streets that house so many memories.

“Oh no!  I guess you'll just have to make it up to me later …” Nana responds, smiling in understanding.

A minute or so later, just as the first few drops of rain begin to fall like your tears that night on the bridge, you arrive at the bus stop.

“This is where I need to get on the bus,” you say to Nana.  “Where are you going, can I call you a taxi?  Were you intending on someone picking you up?  What's the plan?”

Nana smiles in a very particular way, the same way she always seems to smile whenever she realizes that she knows something you don't.  “I'm going wherever you're going.  That's been my plan for a long, long time now.”

You're grateful for the rain, as the sounds of its fall are the only sounds to be found in the seconds that pass before you're able to respond.  You wrap your jacket around her shoulders, sheltering her from the cold as you stare directly into her eyes and tell her, “I … I don't know what I did to deserve the trust you put in me, but I'm incredibly grateful for it.  I promise you that I will never take it for granted.  I promise you, with every fiber of my being and all of my heart, that I will never break that trust.”

“I know,” Nana responds, her whispered words bouncing between the raindrops before barely reaching your ears.  “You showed me your heart today, the least I can do is give you mine.”

You pull Nana close and gently rest your forehead against hers.  Each falling raindrop and each flowing teardrop helps you paint the picture, telling her the thousands of words you can’t verbalize but need her to know.  In this shared moment, as echoes of your past remind you of those sorrowful tears shed so many years ago, your joyful ones return you to the present and the gift in your arms.  So, at least in this moment, you hold Nana tight, vowing to never let her go.

You pull away only when the bus arrives a few minutes later but remain hand in hand as you walk forward.  After stepping on, paying for both of your fares, and finding a pair of seats, you pull out a pair of earbuds and offer Nana one.  She's more than happy to accept, and as she rests her head on your shoulder and you queue up a series of serene love songs from your favorite artists, you hope their words can do a better job of telling Nana how much you love her.

tick…

tock…

“We're here,” you whisper to Nana, gently shaking her awake.  “Just take my hand, I'll lead you home.”

“Okay,” she murmurs, interweaving her fingers with yours and following you through the bus, down the steps, and into the monsoon that immediately jolts her back into consciousness.

“Oookaaayyyy, I'm up!” Nana declares, pulling your jacket tight against her small frame.  “Lead the way, I don't think these pants are gonna do much against a storm like this!”

You take off immediately, leading her as quickly as you can down the sidewalks before eventually stopping at an interaction where you ask her, “But really, why does it always seem like your outfits are in no way at all suited to the weather?”

“Because my outfit looks cute!” Nana exclaims indignantly.  “And you of all people should be glad that’s my priority!”

“Of course, you're right,” you respond, kissing her on the nose in apology.  “Then again, I'm convinced you'd make anything look good, but I do genuinely appreciate that you care and that you put thought into your outfits.  It makes me feel special.”

The crosswalk finally flashes green, and you take off once again, leading Nana towards your apartment as she scolds you.  “Seriously, you can't just keep saying things like that so casually!  There are at least four heartwarming things in that statement that make me want to kiss you, but your question was so stupid that I still kinda want to slap you!  And this stupid rain isn’t helping anything at all!  And I’m cold!  Ugh!”

You're grateful that you're ahead of Nana, because you know that if she sees the goofy smile on your face, you'll be in big trouble.  “Okay dear, I'm sorry I made you feel that way,”  you respond, speaking in the most soothing tone possible.  “We’re almost to my apartment, where it’ll be n-nice and warm, and w-we’ll make everything better.  I p-promise.”

Neither of you speak another word for the remainder of your mad dash, too busy fighting off the shivers to do so.  After a few more minutes, you arrive back at your home, where you tear the key from your pocket, hurriedly unlock the door, and shepherd her inside.

“O-Okay, I’m g-going to start the sh-shower f-for you and g-grab a dry set of clothes for y-you to change into, please f-feel free to d-discard that j-jacket l-literally anywhere,” you manage to tell Nana, taking off as she begins to do as you request.

You fight off the shivers as you quickly dash around your apartment, flipping the shower on and grabbing yourself a towel before darting into your bedroom and grabbing some dry clothes for both of you, then returning to Nana.

“Okay, t-the shower should b-b-be nice and h-hot, and there’s a c-clean towel in t-t-there y-you can u-use,” you stammer as you round the corner.  “H-Here’s something t-to … change … into …”

Your voice escapes you as you see her, back turned as she watches the rain mercilessly paint the cobblestone.  You first see the soaked cotton of her top and how it shakes as her small figure shivers in the cold.  But that isn’t what catches your eye and leaves you dizzy.  It’s the way her pants have tightened, showcasing the sculpted definition of her thighs and how they flow upwards to display the perfectly round curve of her ass.

As she turns, you force yourself to pull your gaze upwards, feeling your face flush as your pulse continues to quicken.  You drag your eyes up her body, past her toned stomach that hides beneath the sopping garments, past her pert breasts and stiff nipples that strain against the soaked fabric, past her shaking shoulders and kissable neck and diamond jawline and roseate lips and adorable nose until finally you meet those chocolate eyes that stare back at you.

“T-Thank you s-s-soooo m-much,” Nana responds, fighting off her own shivers as she takes the clothes from you, then darts off towards the warmth awaiting her, leaving you frozen in more ways than one.

You do your best to ignore how difficult it is to remove your soaked pants, especially as they cling to your skin and especially because of your hardening erection that’s impossible to miss.  After removing all of your drenched attire and placing the dripping bundle alongside the jacket you loaned Nana, you attempt to dry yourself off, saturating the towel with frigid water far quicker than you’d hoped you would.  Once you’re sure that you’ve gotten your money’s worth, you add the towel to the pile in the sink, then put on the pajamas you’d grabbed and turn up the thermostat to its highest setting.

Once you're confident that you’ve done all you can, you collapse, couch creaking in protest at the impact.  In this moment to breathe, the events of the day begin to hit you, flashing across your mind in sync with the droplets of rain against your window.  You think of all the places that defined your childhood.  You think of faces long forgotten.  You think of faces you’ll never forget.  You think of echoes.  You think of her atop that bridge.  You think of her atop that bridge.  You think of all the words that escaped your lips.  You think of Nana’s small hands lifting the weight of the world off your shoulders.  You think of her body on top of yours as she pinned you down with kisses.  You think of her body.  You think of the cold.  You think of heat.  You think of your soaked clothes clinging to your skin.  You think of Nana’s soaked clothes clinging to her skin.  You think of Nana, dripping wet.  You think of Nana, dripping wet.

As you stare out the window, your mind vaguely registers the sound of a hair dryer.  But soon even that sense joins the others, consumed with the thoughts of Nana.  One storm for another.  You’re not even sure if the words escape your lips.

The door opens, and you get up to face Nana.  She’s radiant, each strand of gold and each centimeter of porcelain glowing in the dim light of your apartment.  She’s wearing glasses.  She’s wearing your favorite shirt.  She’s wearing nothing else.

“Hey,” she whispers, somehow slotting seventy emotions into that single syllable as it floats over to you.

You've always viewed Nana as pretty.  She's always been cute.  She'll never not be beautiful.  But as you fight off the arctic chill that permeates your bones, you realize you've never looked at her this way.  You can't help but notice how hot she is.  You see Nana as sexy for the first time.

“Hey,” she calls again, tilting her head and leaning to the side.  It’s unfair, the way she sinks against the doorframe.  It’s immoral, the way she makes herself look even smaller as she hides in the folds of your shirt.  It’s incomprehensible, the way the wide rims of her glasses make her pleading eyes look even bigger.  It’s criminal, the way she hides her intent behind that innocent smile.

“Are you just gonna sit there with your jaw on the floor for the rest of the night, or are you going to say something?”

“N-Nana, if you could s-see what I see, y-you’d be speechless t-too,” you manage to get out, unable to suppress the shivers as you respond.

“Well, you could walk into the bathroom that I might have sorta turned into a sauna,” Nana offers, the smallest of smiles beginning to show.

“Or …” she continues, taking her time as she closes the distance between you two.  “I could warm you up …”

Your arms wrap around her instinctually as she presses her body against you.  You can feel the sculpted frame hidden beneath the oversized shirt.  You can feel the tension.  You can feel the heat.  And as your eyes drift down to her lips, you can feel your reservations flying out the window to join the falling rain.

You kiss her.  Gently.  Delicately.  And she shoves you backwards onto the couch.

“Absolutely not,” Nana declares, climbing into your lap.  She wraps her arms around your neck, licking her lips hungrily before pulling you close.  Within a second of her claiming your lips with her own and beginning to grind against your lower half, any questions you might have had join your reservations on the pavement outside.  You match her intensity, running your tongue along her lips patiently, then expectantly, and claim her mouth as soon as she lets you in.  Your hands roam, dragging your fingers like ice cubes across her hips and down her thighs as she hisses into your mouth.

You work your way up her body, past her waistline and under your her shirt.  You travel further, past the lean abs she’s worked so hard to sculpt, across the ridges and valleys of her expanding and contracting rib cage, all the way until the tips of your fingers brush the sensitive underside of her breasts.  The whimper that escapes her mouth into yours is immediate.  It’s needy.  It’s pathetic.  It’s the hottest sound you’ve ever heard.

The soft, malleable skin becomes a pair of perfect handfuls as you explore the fringes of Nana’s breasts, sending sparks through her synapses and shockwaves down her spine.  You break away from her kiss, just for a moment, just long enough to watch her collapse onto you as you finally knead her swollen nipples between your fingers.  You take the opportunity to access the curve of her neck, mentally noting where earns the loudest moans as you suck, kiss, and nip the sensitive skin.

“Look at you, so desperate,” you whisper into her ear, grinding your hips against hers and forcing her to moan.  “I’ve barely even touched you, but somehow you’re even more drenched than earlier.”

“And you know what’s the worst part?” you murmur, stretching a single second across the tension before continuing.  “That’s nothing compared to what you’re doing to me.  I’ve never been so hard in my fucking life.”

“You—you’re—OH!!!”

You know what you’re doing when you latch onto that particular spot on the base of her neck; that her response is going to be lost, lost in the sound of her moan echoing against your walls.  But you also know what she wanted to verbalize, what her body has been telling you as it tenses up even further.  So, when you feel her shaking, on the precipice, you’re more than willing to lend a hand.  You’re happy to detach from her breast, brushing against her sensitive folds with the back of your hand.  And so, when you’re kind enough to simply graze her clit with an icy fingernail, you also make sure to hold her as she comes undone.

The first orgasm you give Nana is a cinematic experience, with a soundtrack of the most ungodly of moans alongside her quivering limbs and the deathly grip on your shoulders as if you’re the only thing keeping her afloat.  You gently trace circles along her back, whispering sweet nothings into her ear and holding her as she rides out the high.  You wait, long after the quivering has ceased and she’s unclenched her hands, long enough for her to meet your eyes and show you that the fog has lifted.

“Hey,” you murmur, goofy grin growing wider as you see her eyes flash with outrage.

“You can’t keep doing this!” Nana exclaims, huffing in frustration when all you have to offer is your gleaming smile.  “You can’t just blow my mind and change my life and end it with a ‘Hey’!”

“Who said that was the end?” you ask, humor discarded as your tone drops.  “You did what you said you would, now we’re both hot and bothered.”  You look into her eyes, see the recognition and excitement.  Then, you see the desire reignite as you thrust upwards, teasing her sex with only a bit of friction.  “What are you going to do about it?”

Nana meets the challenge with equal passion, whispering into your ear, “I’m going to show you a side of me that no one has ever seen before.”

Having adequately spiked your blood pressure, Nana climbs off you, moving with idol-like grace as she sashays towards your bedroom door.  Having reached the end of the runway, she turns, throwing off her shirt and modeling her pristine form for you.  She’s divine.  You somehow tear your eyes away from her flawless figure, staring instead into her molten eyes.  She captures her bottom lip between her teeth, slowly dragging them across the soft, pink skin before twisting her innocuous expression into one of sinister glee.  She’s sin incarnate.

Then, she’s gone, retreated back into your bedroom.  You’re off the couch in a blur, flinging off your shirt and pajama bottoms, discarding the soaked pieces of clothing as they join the rest.  You round the corner, entering your bedroom, and you have to pinch yourself to make sure you aren’t dreaming.

You’ve seen Nana dozens of times at this point, seen her in outfits ranging from luxury goods to school uniforms to casual attire to athletic wear.  You’ve seen her when doted on by professional stylists, just after a dance practice, and everywhere in-between.  But when you see her here, in your bed, wearing nothing but a smile and absolutely glistening in anticipation, you swear your heart stops.

You climb onto the bed; you climb on top of her.  You kiss her.  Not lightly, not lustfully, but lovingly.  And when she kisses you back, you feel that exact same longing.  Despite the sincerity in the kiss, you don’t feel the heat in the room diminish at all.  No, you just realize it’s everburning.

You pull away.  Barely.  Just enough room for words.  Just far enough to see her eyes.

“No interruptions this time, it's just you and me,” you murmur, causing her to shudder in anticipation right up until a thunderclap echoes throughout the apartment and makes you both jump.

“We really need to work on our timing, don’t we?” Nana jokes, harmonious laughter escaping her as you see her anticipation, affection, and arousal merge, forming the euphoric expression she wears earnestly.

“Yeah, so maybe one interruption,” you say, laughing along with her until her mess of giggles comes to an end.  

“But you are mine, Nana,” you whisper, your hot breath inflaming her senses as each syllable reaches her ears.  “I am yours, and tonight belongs to no one else.  Just us.  Tonight is ours.”

“Perfect,” she whispers back, that single word a lit match she drops directly into your heart.  “What now?”

“Show me,” you say, rolling you both and flipping your positions so she’s atop you.  You give her control.  Earnestly.  You give her your trust.  Easily.  You give her your all.  You give her everything.

When she takes your length in her hand, giving you your first hints of pleasure, you groan in relief.  When she lines you up with her entrance and drips arousal onto your tip, you inhale through your teeth, hissing as if you’d been burned.  And when she lowers herself onto you and takes you inside her, it literally takes your breath away.

“Fuuuck…” Nana hisses, sending your heart rate into the stratosphere.  “It feels … so … fucking … amazing …”

“You’re incredible Nana,” you growl through gritted teeth, hands latching onto her hips and gripping tighter than you probably should.  But any expectation of you being perfectly in control of yourself is entirely unreasonable when she’s moving like this, taking you deeper and deeper into her warmth at an agonizingly slow pace.  You can’t help it; her face, her body, the way she quivers - you can’t tear your eyes away, not when you see the beads of sweat splattered across her furrowed brow.  Not when you can practically hear the grinding of her tensed jaw.  And certainly not when her closed eyelids hide those rich chocolate eyes.

“Take your time,” you whisper soothingly.  “No need to rush, I’ll stay here forever as long as it’s with you.”  You see some of the tension evaporate from her shoulders, but that does nothing for the vice grip she still has around your cock.  Her progress accelerates slightly, taking on more and more of you with each passing moment before finally, finally your hips collide.

“There we go,” Nana mumbles, reopening her eyes and regaining a bit of that hubris you’ve come to know and … like.  Having finally reached her destination, you can see the gears turning in Nana’s head as she starts to experiment, rolling her hips against yours and exploring all the possible sensations she can experience.  One particular angle catches you off guard, causes you to moan even louder than before.  You see it in her eyes, see how they immediately ignite.  She repeats the motion, ripping another of those moans from deep within your chest as you see that gleefully sinister smile return.

The image of Nana bouncing up and down on your cock is obscene yet puts all other art to shame with its beauty.  You simultaneously appreciate and despise her dancing background as she moves with unyielding precision.  She places her hands on your shoulders as she continues exploring, utilizing her flexibility and strength to adjust her position and flex her muscles in ways you’d never thought possible, much less experienced.

“Oh my god Nana …” Your words trail off, lost to the pleasures of her latest findings, but they fan the flames all the same.

“Tell me how good that feels,” Nana purrs, punctuating her point by sliding herself back down onto the base of your cock.  Then again.  And again.  And again.

“It feels so—FUCK!—ing good,” you manage to choke out, throwing your head back in pleasure.  Almost instantly, Nana grabs you by the chin, pulling you forward and making it impossible to look anywhere else.

“Don’t you dare look anywhere else,” she growls, sending a new sensation down your spine as her ceaseless riding continues to chip away at your sanity.  “Tell me how I make you feel.”

“You—ugh!” Words escape you, your mind unable to comprehend things other than pleasure and pain and Nana.  Your grip tightens, tight enough to bruise, as you desperately try to cling to something, anything.  “You feel amazing.”

“What else?” Nana asks, picking up the pace.

“You drive me insane,” you tell her, sparing her hips further punishment as you focus on her breasts once again.

“Tell me more,” she demands, riding you even faster.

“You’re unbelievable!” you yell, mustering what little oxygen remains as you match her volume.

“More.”  Even faster.

“You’re perfect,” you say, voice dropping as her pitch rises.

“More!”  Faster.

“I love how you make me feel.”  Even quieter.

“More, more!!” she demands greedily, hips bouncing at a delirious pace as her face tenses once more.

“I love you Nana,” you whisper sweetly.  But you refuse to let the sentiment disrupt the moment, following her hips up as you thrust into her and throw off her rhythm.  “Cum for me.”

“FUCK—”

Nana somehow manages the impossible, staring through you with misty eyes as she succumbs to pleasure, drenching your lower half and the sheets below in her nectar as her orgasm violently overtakes her.  It takes everything you have to remain motionless, cock painfully throbbing as you try not to overwhelm her.  Each of you experiences the seconds as if they were lifetimes, you on the verge of pleasure and her well over the edge of it.

“You didn’t cum?” Nana asks, shifting slightly in your lap and forcing you to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from exploding inside her right then.  She raises herself off of you, maintaining eye contact the entire time she moves away and positions herself between your legs.  As she leans forward, opening her mouth and letting her warm breaths torment your torturously erect shaft further, she has the audacity to wink at you.

“Time to change that.”

The sight of her fucking tongue teasing the sensitive skin of your cock all the way from base to head is ungodly, and you know immediately, no camera flash required, that this image will be burned into your mind for all eternity.  It’s almost demeaning how casually she destroys you, idly wrapping her fingers around your shaft as her tongue begins to swirl around the head of your cock.  “Fucking hell Nana …”

If your words affect her, she’s doing a damned good job hiding it, drooling unapologetically all over the fingers that twist and pump your shaft, priming it as her mouth continues to work its way further and further down.  And all the while, the entire time she molds you to her desires like putty in her hands, she holds your eyes.  Lovingly.  Expectantly.  Enticingly.  

“I’m close …” You try to warn her, but her hum in response sends an all-new type of shock all the way down your shaft, cutting off any further waste of oxygen.  Your hands tangle into your sheets, threatening to shred them in your grip as you fight to keep the desire to let loose and absolutely defile her throat.  “I’m gonna—”

Nana ignores your words, listening to the signs of your body as she delicately unwraps her small hand from around your shaft.  The faintest flicker of disappointment flashes in the back of your mind, but it’s immediately eradicated as Nana forces herself downwards, catching you completely off-guard as she takes you into her throat, consuming you entirely.

“NANA!!”  She rips her name out from deep within you, sending you soaring over the edge of orgasm as you are unmade by pleasure.  Your body tenses and contracts, overwhelming pleasure pulsating from head to toe and every centimeter in between.  Wave after wave after wave after wave of your cum fires into her mouth, but you’re unable to bear witness as your eyelids shield you from the unholy sight.  It’s so much, so fast, that it drives you to the perfect intersection of pain and pleasure, leaving you unable to do anything but feel.

Eventually, your orgasm comes to an end, as all things must.  The first thing you do is open your eyes to see Nana, mouth still snugly around your cock as she swallows the last of drops of your deluge.  The second thing you do is remember to breathe.  You watch as she detaches herself from your cock, then joins you, for the second time today, in an agonizing minute of shaking shoulders and heaving chests as you both attempt to force enough oxygen into your lungs to be able to speak.  Fortunately, you’re both able to.  You just happen to do so first.

“So … dinner?  Or are you good … after …”

“I’m actually going to murder you,” she mutters, and you don’t even try to stop the laughter that forces its way out.

“You know, I was going to be upset at you for the whole ‘not maintaining eye contact’ thing,” Nana says with a smile of her own, climbing up the bed to lay against your side.  “But considering I’m the one that made you nearly black out, I’ll give you a pass this time.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you offer, smiling sheepishly as you wrap an arm around her.  “But you were—”

“Yeah, uh …” she interjects, trailing off as her rapid pulse quickly delivers a crimson flush to her cheeks.  “I don’t know … it was just really nice—and really hot—to hear you say those things about me.”

“Any time,” you say as you lean in, gently kissing her on the crown of her head.  “By the way, did you … I didn’t really see …”

“Oh, this?” Nana asks, opening her mouth wide to show you the tongue and walls, unbesmirched by white.  “I’m sure you agree that was pretty hot, but I guess that means you don’t wanna—”

You roll over slightly, propping yourself up on your elbows as you climb over her once more, leaning down and cutting her sentence short as you capture her lips.  A small squeak of surprise escapes before she matches your passion, wrapping her arms around your neck as your tongues begin to dance.  As the intensity rises your heartbeat follows suit, sending blood all throughout your body and especially one place in particular.

“Not done, huh?” Nana murmurs, capturing your bottom lip between her teeth and gently sucking on it as she looks at you with her seductress’ gaze.

“For you?  Never,” you murmur back, intent and invitation clear in your eyes.

“We’ll have to test that sometime …” Nana responds, mirth and mischief manifesting in her smile as she releases your lip.  “For now though … show me.”

The kiss you leave on her lips is fleeting, acting more as a palate cleanser than any declaration or escalation.  You grab a pillow with one hand, lifting Nana up with the other and placing it under the small of her back as you set the stage.  With a bit of additional leverage gained and anticipation built, you line yourself up with her entrance, looking to Nana who nods in confirmation as you enter her once again.

You push further into her slowly, eager to reach the previous round’s intensity but mindful of her pleasure as her tightness suffocates your shaft.  Ravenous for more, you lean in, greeted by the mixed scents of coconuts and cherry blossoms and sweat and everything else about her that makes your head spin.  You’re quick to attack her neck again, latching onto one of the many spots you noted earlier and sucking relentlessly.

“Wait wait wait, no marks!” Nana exclaims, placing her hands on your shoulders and pushing you away from your target.

“I’m so sorry, I should have—” Your apology grinds to a halt as Nana, sinful gaze meeting your own, delicately lays a single finger against your lips.

“No … visible marks,” she clarifies, smirking seductively as she lowers her arms and offers you free reign once more.

You’re more than happy to seize the opportunity, capturing one of her nipples between your teeth and beginning your oral assault as you suck, swirl, and tease her with your tongue.  One hand begins exploring her body, creating only the tiniest bit of contact as it glides over each area of her flawless skin, searching for unexpected pleasure points anywhere you can reach.

“Be vocal,” you murmur, breath rolling like fog over her breast.  “I want nothing more than to know every single spot on your body that drives you wild.”

You see out of the corner of your eyes Nana opening her mouth, as if to respond, but as your hips collide once more and you fully bury your length inside of her, a deep, heady moan bulldozes through her best laid plans and tears free instead.  As you begin to thrust faster, deeper, you sink your other hand below her waistline, searching only a moment before finding the sensitive bud of her clit and adding it to your list of ministrations.

“Tell me Nana, tell me what feels good,” you say, soothing voice a stark contrast to the frenetic pace at which you chase her pleasure.

“Your fucking mouth, I love how you suck on my—ugh!” Another day, you’d feel cruel for cutting her off so rudely, but honestly, who could blame you for doing what she asks?  “And the way you feel inside me, thrusting in so deep …”  This time, it’s a sharp intake of air, but you’re happy to earn another moan as you thrust deep inside her again.  Then again, for good measure.  One more time.  “And I love the way you … with your hand … on my thigh … yesssss …”  You’ll have to make a special note for that one, apparently figure eights are the best pattern to trace along the inside of her thighs.  Who knew?

You get lost in the perfection that is Nana, thrusting wildly as you ride the high all the way up to the summit.  You mar her flawless skin with marks of desire, leave little reminders of pleasure where no one else will see them.  You feast on her skin, attempting to satiate a hunger you both know will never be sated.  Your hands roam as well, acting with a mind of their own as one roams every uncharted inch of her skin while the other stays glued between her thighs, toying mercilessly with her most sensitive area.  It’s plenty for you to keep track of, but if Nana’s reactions are anything to go by, it’s bordering on too much for her to handle.

Time’s a relative thing in general, but here, in the bedroom with Nana, there’s no eternity better spent.  You chase your pleasures together, call and response, back and forth, her and you, united as one.  You cherish the opportunity to care for Nana for once, bringing her pleasure in as many ways as possible.  “Fuck!”  You seek those profanities.  “Oh god—”  You crave those indecencies.  “You’re gonna make me …”  You hunt her peaks, and as she thrashes, shakes, quivers, and cries in your arms, you’re there to hold her the whole way down.

“Nana, I’m getting close,” you tell her, growing delirious as pleasure begins to overwhelm you.  “Where—”

“I swear to god if you cum anywhere other than inside of me …” Nana threatens, though her glassy eyes and lolled tongue diminish the impact a bit.

You feel Nana’s legs wrap around your waist, pulling you in as her arms do the same.  Her lips claim yours, capturing any senses that weren’t already completely overwhelmed by her and her alone.  As you lean into her, tongues dancing as your body disconnects from your mind, pleasure shoots through your veins like a shot or seventy of adrenaline.  If you were any more coherent, you might’ve been able to enjoy the details, like the way your cock’s twitching or the way Nana shudders slightly each time you fire another shot into her or the way you keep pumping, refusing to let any of your cum go anywhere but as deep as you can fuck it inside her.  Unfortunately, all you experience is the taste of Nana on your lips and the red, foggy haze of rapture that permeates your fucking soul.  Unlucky, really.

Your orgasm ends, eventually.  You force yourself to pull away, force yourself to focus so that you can see the elated expression of a well-fucked Nana.  There’s the faintest hint of tears in the corners of her eyes, each one earned at her own apex of pleasure.  You withdraw further, pulling out of her fully, then lay beside her and pull her into your arms.

“Hey there beautiful, you alright?”

“Not the word I would use,” Nana murmurs into your chest.  “We should get caught in the rain more often …”

Once again, quiet laughter escapes you, as it always seems to when you’re with Nana.  “I’ll keep that in mind,” you promise.  “In the meantime, we should probably get cleaned up and showered.”

“Not yet …” Nana groans, lightly smacking you like you’re an alarm clock disrupting her beauty sleep.

“Okay okay, no rush,” you respond, pulling her close and allowing the sounds of the gentle rain to fill the room.  You treasure the tranquility, basking in the simple sensations of her hands in yours and her soft breaths against your chest.  Many stanzas later, the storm’s song softens, then slowly comes to a close, but you stay there together, finding solace in each other’s embrace.  Eventually, once Nana’s fully recovered, you get up to turn the shower on and begin grabbing things, giving her everything she needs: tissues, wipes, water, hugs, kisses, and your undivided attention.

“I know this is an incredibly egotistical question, but can you walk?” you ask, smiling sheepishly as she rolls her eyes.  “Or do you want me to carry you?”

“Yes, I can, but carry me anyways,” Nana declares, throwing open her arms and waiting expectantly.

“As you wish,” you declare with a flourish, bowing deeply before scooping Nana into your arms and carrying her bridal style into the bathroom.

“Showering together?” she asks suggestively and shamelessly.

“Showering together,” you reply warmly, setting her down and testing the water.  “Let me spoil you for a bit, no need to rush.”

“Very well,” she accepts, stepping into the shower.  “Now hurry and get in here so I don’t have to warm you up all over again.”

“Yes ma’am,” you respond, climbing in after her.  You’ve never been more grateful for your replacement shower head and its absurd water pressure, though you make sure to get close to Nana just in case.

Even as you two rinse yourselves off, you can’t help but be mesmerized by the water flowing down Nana’s perfect figure.  You watch as the many drops coat each long strand of her flowing golden locks, run down each beautiful feature that comprises her face, then finally succumbs to gravity after tracing every last millimeter of her jawline.  From there, you follow their journey as they land on her collarbone and continue on into sacred territory.  Thousands of individual droplets gently caress the curvature of her breasts as they pass by, while thousands more race down the soft skin of the arms and hands that inspire so many fans to dream of their embrace.  For those droplets lucky enough to remain attached after traveling past her abs and below her waist, a pair of gently toned legs defined by years upon years of dance await.  Finally, between the pale skin of her inner thighs, the perfectly shaven holy place of indecent desires and fantasies awaits a lucky few.  Lucky you.

“You’re staring again,” Nana says, breaking you out of your reverie as she smiles shyly.

“Nana, I absolutely am,” you admit freely, shamelessly.  “You’re right here in front of me and I still can’t believe you’re real.”

“Oh, um … thanks,” Nana mumbles, turning away from you just as you see a familiar splash of crimson.

“You’re welcome, now hold still,” you tell her, grabbing a bottle of conditioner and squeezing some into your hand.  “Let me wash your hair.”

“Oh!  I mean, okay …”

You spread the viscous liquid across your hands, then begin massaging it into the many, many strands of gold that flow together and form her hair.  “This conditioner worked wonderfully back when I had lighter highlights, so hopefully it should be fine for you too.”

You trail off, focusing on the task at hand and the silk between your fingertips, but you can’t help but add, “But I wouldn’t mind buying some of whatever you normally use and keeping it here … just in case.”

Nana turns back, glaring at you for a moment before allowing you to continue.  “That’s a sentence with a whole lot of implications, but you’re cute so I’ll let you get away with it.”

“Good to know!  I promise to not use that information responsibly,” you jest, grinning uncontrollably as Nana huffs in indignation.  “Okay, let that sit for a couple minutes before rinsing it out.”

Nana turns, stepping closer to you and keeping her hair out of the waterflow as she does so.  “Can I wash yours?”

“Of course,” you tell her, handing her the bottle before closing your eyes and leaning down to allow her easier access.

“Thank you …” she murmurs.  After a few anticipatory moments in the dark, you feel her hands start working their way across your head, massaging you and coating your own strands in that same liquid that you apply on a daily basis, but have never experienced like this.

A whine slips past your lips as she finishes and pulls away, causing a score of giggles to emerge as you open your eyes to see the adorable, joyous expression of Nana’s smiling face.  “So, what’s next?”

“I’m going to wash my body with this,” you tell her, holding up a bottle of body wash as you hand her a different one.  “And you can wash yourself with that, because if I end up putting my hands all over your body, we’re never getting out of here.”

“You’re probably right,” Nana admits, mischief taking over her smile.  “However …”

“You’re not the one paying the water bill, shush!” you exclaim, turning away and beginning to lather yourself up.  Nana’s laughter rings out once more, reverberating off the tight walls of your shower as she too begins to wash herself of the improprieties that cover every centimeter of each of your bodies.

Somehow, you both manage to behave, rinsing yourselves off before getting out and toweling yourselves dry.  Nana sits as you brush her hair like Rapunzel, blow drying it slowly as you meticulously work your way through her golden mane.  It isn’t easy to find a comfortable set of clothes for her to wear, but with a pair of rolled pant legs and a hair-tied shirt, you’re able to make do.  Together, you eagerly order delivery from your favorite chicken restaurant, and while you’re waiting, begin the process of cleaning up.

Nana helps you strip your sheets, the most traumatized victims of your shared endeavors, off your bed, then assists you in wrangling a new set onto the mattress.  Your heart glows with warmth at how right it feels to perform such a mundane household activity with her, even as the fitted sheet snaps up once again and nearly hits you in the face.  Nana’s laughter rings out first, but yours is close behind, warding off any frustration as you enjoy the little simplicities of spending time with her.  You both clean up your kitchen, sending your soaked clothes to join your laundry as hers go into the wash, cleansing them of the rain’s influence as you both settle on the couch.

“I think that’s everything we needed to take care of,” you say, just as a thought crosses your mind.  “Do we need to get you some—”

“Don’t worry, I’ve been taking precautions for a bit.  You know, just in case,” Nana tells you, tone relaxed but eyes alight with mischief.

“You—what—just in case?!” you sputter.  “Since when?!”

“That night Wooyeon walked in on us,” Nana remarks casually.  “I wasn’t gonna let you kiss me like that without finishing the job.”

You’re frozen in silence, unsure whether to follow-up with confusion, accusations, questions, gratitude, or something else entirely, but the familiar cadence of the delivery man’s knocks on the door saves you from needing an answer.  After enjoying your meals and making some light conversation, you both end up on your insanely comfy couch, curled up together under your stupidly soft blanket as Nana selects another movie, this time opting for a cheesy romance flick that she swears is different from the rest.  Ultimately, she’s not wrong, as any experience shared with Nana ends up being far more enjoyable than the alternatives, and you end up enjoying yourself quite a bit.  You lay with her, laugh with her, and hold her close as you wipe away her tears.

Enthralled by Nana and her investment in the movie, you barely even notice as the hours pass, the clouds dissipate, and the sun shines bright for a fleeting flash before disappearing below the skyline.  It’s not until the movie finishes, fading to black for the final time, that you note the darkness that’s overtaken the world outside your little corner of paradise.  After confirming with her other members that she’s free tomorrow, Nana joins you getting ready for bed.

“Here, this has barely been used,” you tell her, handing her a toothbrush and smiling as a thought enters your mind.  “I guess I’ll just have to get you one of those too.”

“You just might have to,” Nana says, wide grin mirroring your own as you both begin your nightly routines.

A short while later, after locking up and killing all the lights, you join Nana in bed.  It’s an odd sensation as you turn off your alarm clock, something you haven’t done in months, maybe even years, but when you see the weary eyes Nana’s fighting to keep open, you decide it’s for the best.  You turn to her, exchanging good night’s and I love you’s before she closes in, kissing you tenderly before turning away and snuggling close against your body.  You two form a perfect fit as you hold her, refusing to let go even as sleep overtakes you.  Tonight, you have neither prayers nor requests, simply gratitude for the blessing in your arms.  Tonight, you dream of neither girl nor ghost, simply a warm silence that wraps itself around you in a familiar embrace.

tick…

tock…

For once, for the first time in a long, long while, your awakening is not sudden, but serene.  Your eyes slowly open, witnessing the twin golden glows that illuminate the tranquil space in their soft, mellow light.  You’re forced to squint slightly at the brightness of the rays of light filtering through the window, but even the rising sun pales in comparison to the radiance resting within your embrace.  Nana’s resting expression is one of bliss, subtle curves of a smile hidden at the edges of her lips even as she leisurely draws breath.

Somehow, sometime in the middle of the night, she seems to have interwoven your hand with hers, clutching it tightly against her breast as she lies dormant.  You can’t help but feel, in this moment, it seems almost too perfect to be a dream.  Like your mind wouldn’t even entertain this as achievable in a best-case scenario.  Yet here you are, blessed beyond imagination.

You get an idea, hoping to surprise her with breakfast.  You slowly, delicately attempt to remove your hand from hers, but are stopped suddenly as her grip tightens.  “Stopppp …”

“You’re awake?” you ask in surprise.

“Of course, since before you woke up,” Nana murmurs, pulling you closer.  “I just wanted you to hold me longer.”

“Nana, I …”  Your words trail off, your mind unable to even form words as you try to comprehend how you could possibly deserve something this perfect.  “Thank you … Are you hungry?  I was going to go make breakfast—”

“Breakfast can wait,” Nana interjects, flipping over to face you as she snuggles in even closer.  “Just stay with me, like this.  Please.”

This time, at least, you know exactly what to say.  “Of course, Nana.  Anything for you.”

She remains silent, but the pounding of her heart tells you everything you’d ever need to know.  You do as she asks, pulling the covers back over you as you wrap your arm around Nana, pulling her closer as you plant a gentle kiss atop her head.  Somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, you know that the clock ticks ever onwards.  But as you look down and see the little smile that only you seem to bring out of Nana, you realize there’s no better way to spend an eternity than moments like this with the one you love.  You’ll stay.  Forever, if she wants.  And with the way she clings to you, like you’re the only thing keeping her on Earth instead of up with the other angels, you trust that she’ll stay too.  Maybe even forever.

tick…

tock…

tick…

tock…

“So, is hugging a common thing with you?  Like, do you greet everyone you meet by trying to break their ribs?”

“Are you complaining about my hugs?!” Nana gasps, unwrapping her arms from around you and pulling away.

“No, absolutely not!” you exclaim, nearly tripping over your words as they leave your mouth at the speed of light.  “I’m just curious, okay?  It seems like a big thing with you.”

“Fine, I’ll answer your ridiculous question,” Nana says, retaking your arm.  “I occasionally give hugs to people I’m close to.  I often hug those I care about most.  I always hug you.”

“Oh,” you manage to say.  Your curiosity sated; you allow the comfortable silence to return.  As you two walk together, you marvel at the vibrant streets, delighted in the changing of the seasons as spring brings its warmth to what was a desolate Korean winter wasteland.

Unfortunately, a single dark shop stands out amongst the rows of brightly lit stores that litter both sides of the street.  Your destination, Aunt Kim’s noodle shop, seems empty.

“Oh no, it’s closed!  If only someone had an apartment nearby where we could spend the evening instead,” Nana announces dramatically, looking up at you and waggling her eyebrows shamelessly.

“If only,” you say, tugging her along.  “Let’s go see if she left a note saying when she’ll be back.”

“‘Closed this evening for a special occasion’,” Nana reads aloud.  “‘Will return to normal business tomorrow.’  That’s strange, I wonder what’s so important that she was willing to close the shop.”

“Strange indeed,” you agree, searching around in your pocket for a moment before pulling out a key.  “Wanna find out?”

Before she even has the chance to respond, you unlock the door, pushing it open and holding it for her as you invite her in.

“Give me a sec!” you call out, venturing into the darkness as she follows you inside.

“What?  How did you …” Nana trails off, covering her eyes as you flip the switch and restore light to the establishment.  Within, two steaming bowls wait upon a small table near the left corner of the store; upon “your” table, the one where you two have always sat over the past couple of months, the one with the edge broken off, the one that’s imperfect, but that’s okay, because nothing is.  Well, except Nana.

“No but really, what is going on?” Nana asks, walking as if in a daze as she joins you at the table.

“I wanted to do something nice for you for your birthday,” you explain, pulling out the chair for her.  “I thought it’d be nice to have the place to ourselves for once, and Aunt Kim was kind enough to agree.  She seemed more than willing to help out, probably because of our … ahem, ‘generous contributions’ to the store.”

“Ah, I see,” Nana chuckles, smiling brightly.  “Thank you, but you really didn’t have to do all this …”

“Maybe,” you admit with a shrug.  “But for you, I’d do anything.  This is the first time I’ve gotten to do something sweet for you, just let me spoil you for one night.”

“Alright, fine,” Nana says, huffing in mock exasperation.  “Then let’s eat!”

You both eagerly dig in, savoring the familiar tastes of your favorite meals.  Unsurprisingly, even as the flavors dance along your tastebuds, the sight of Nana in front of you is all that matters.  Even with her golden color replaced by a dark chocolate brown, her radiant visage shines under the warm amber glow of the Edison bulbs above.  You lose yourself in the sight of her, food long forgotten until her voice brings you back to reality.

“This is soooooooooo good, did you make this?”

“Oh, gods no,” you exclaim, earning a laugh from each of you.  “Aunt Kim was kind enough to make it just before we arrived.”

“Okay good,” Nana replies, wry smirk locked and loaded as she continues to fire shots.  “I don’t think I would have ever been able to forgive you if you brought me here just to subject me to your cooking.”

“Oh, come on,” you say, rolling your eyes and turning away to hide the smile you can’t contain.  “You know you love me.”

“Obviously.”

That single word has no right to hit as hard as it does, but you can’t help but whip back around to face her.  You pause, allowing the smile to slip as your voice drops.  “I love you.”

“Believe it or not, even more obvious,” she responds, still attempting to hide behind levity.  But you see it in the faint glimmer of her eyes, in the way her lips part slightly, in the way she leans in just the slightest bit closer.

You don’t have to move far to close the distance, leaning in and gently pressing your lips against hers.  The combination of the dishes’ flavors explodes across your senses, adding a new type of spice to one of your favorite activities.  Even more than usual, it drives you crazy, amplifying your hunger as you greedily up the intensity, wrapping your hand around the back of her neck and—

“Honestly, at this point, I’m not even surprised.”

Nana immediately breaks away from the kiss, turning to see Wooyeon walking in, a box in one hand and her forehead in the other.

“Seriously, we just keep having the worst timing,” you say, laughing warmly as you stand to greet her.  “Thanks again for picking this up, I really appreciate it.”

“You’re very welcome,” Wooyeon responds, taking a seat next to Nana.  “Your place is nice by the way.”

“Wait, you’re telling me Wooyeon got a key to your place before I did?” Nana asks indignantly.  “Unbelievable, really.”

Your laughter follows you as you retreat to the kitchen, where you grab Wooyeon’s meal and return to the table.  “That is a good point, I should be careful who I give those out to.”

“Indeed,” Wooyeon says, smirking sinisterly.  “I might just invite myself in some time.”

“Alright alright, enough,” Nana declares as you burst into a quiet fit of laughter.  “Please, can we try to have a normal dinner?  It’d be nice to have an interaction between my two closest friends that isn’t awkward or cut short for once.”

The two of you agree and all three of you dive back into your dinners, casually conversing about your days, how good the food is, and basically anything at all.  You happily join in, enjoying the chance to get to know Wooyeon better and seeing a new side of Nana that only her friend and fellow idol can bring out.  A month ago, you never could have imagined seamlessly going from conversations about your work to stories about their backstage adventures to what movies they’d watched recently.  Yet, on this especially significant day, you’re happy to join Nana at the intersection between her personal and professional life.  You’re happy to make a joke and be blessed by the harmonization of Nana and Wooyeon laughing together.  It’s musical, it’s magical, it’s meant to be.

“Now, will you tell me what’s in the box?” Nana eventually asks.

Wooyeon looks to you for confirmation, then reaches down and opens it, revealing an overly frosted, downright cartoonish-looking piece of cake that looks like it was taken right out of a Kirby game.

“Oh my god it’s perfect!” Nana exclaims, eagerly grabbing for her phone as you take a finger and run it through the icing.  “Hey!  I was gonna take a picture of that!!”

A devious smile creeps across your face as you lean forward, booping Nana on the nose and getting frosting everywhere.  “HEY!”

You immediately lean away, desperately attempting her wild assault as Nana attempts to return the favor.  Within a minute, you’re out of breath from laughing so hard, and from the corner of your eye you can see Wooyeon not faring much better.  Nana catches you, of course, and you’re forced to suffer the consequences of your actions as bits of frosting are smeared all across your face.

Eventually, the commotion settles and you’re all able to enjoy the piece in peace, savoring the wonderful flavors as you share it together.  Well after the sun sets, well after the streets outside go dark and the clock ticks past the shop’s normal closing time, the three of you remain, sharing stories, telling tales, and enjoying each other’s company.  As always, a small part of you rues the passage of time, knowing that this too must come to an end.  But for as long as you possibly can, you preserve this moment, refusing to take it for granted as you treasure the memory being made.  Because you know that you’ll remember this night for the rest of your life.  Because nights like this make you realize you’ve been gifted everything you could have ever wished for.

(My sincerest gratitude to @braaan and @majorblinks for reviewing this fic, I can’t thank you enough for how much your insights improved it and how much your love & support meant to me.  This fic is dedicated to @capslocked, a known believer, and @okaylikesmomo, the newest member of the cult.  I hope you enjoyed reading this story about hugs that happened to feature smut; the next story idea I intend to finish features far more snark and smut, with no hugs in sight.  Anticipate it at your own risk.)

[somashoponline]

Table Cloth Online: The Future of Table Decor

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[st9rz]

TAKE ALL YOUR SINS

toji with a cute milf that he found at the local coffee shop.

toji x milf ! reader

warning — nsfw, teasing, begging, oral (receiving), dumbification, fingering, squirting, f! Reader.

notes — this is rushed so forgive me !!

you met toji at your local coffee. you remember it all as if it happened yesterday, when you ordered a iced coffee with a bit of caramel drizzle since you were off work, you’d be damned when the tall muscular man came up behind you to order up next.

as soon as you turned around you guys made eye contact. his black eyes and (your color) eyes meting as if it was a romantic movie, oh how you wish that this happened sooner because of the events after it.

he sat you down near a table asking you these sweet compliments, asking you questions like “were you single?” and if you lived near this area of course you answered every single one of them from how charmed you were as he played you like a little violin.

after that he offered to walk you to your home to make sure a “cute little thing like you would head home safely” is what you remember what he said, you wish his looks would have not charmed you they way they did.

“ thank you for walking me home toji” you said with a small smile clutching your purse as you were gonna walk in “wait, i was wondering we could spend some more time in your home?” he said with his smooth tone, and of course your nodded unlocking your door for him to enter with you.

which that had lead you to him manhandling you onto your bed, your head dizzy a bit and your meaty breast would be perky from the situation that made you aroused, your cunt was throbbing as you bit your lip whining.

he saw you struggling as he started stripping your clothes off you except your bra, you looked so hopeless, you had no idea how much he was turned on by your huge breast and your chubby cunt “ fuck pretty girl. . . “ he said smirking his scar stretched with he smiled “ havent seen a pretty pussy like this in a long time “ he said lowering down to your cunt.

he would lick your clit slowly which drove you insane, you let out squeals and soft moans as you felt his tongue press flat on your cunt “ fuck- pleasse toji!” you begged as he would stretch your cunt a bit and lick another stripe of saliva on your cunt “ please what? “ he said smirking as he started to insert his gummy tongue into you, you could feel his tongue against your pink walls as you gasped even more “ please eat me out ! Wanna cum please “ you said as tears started swelling in your eyes, you havent had sex in so long since you gave birth.

he would pull his tongue out your cunt as you squealed as he slithered his hand up to your cute cunt and soon and slowly inserted his fingers deep in you, slow as he took you let of cries and moans, even pleads as he smirked against your cunt, soon flicking his tongue against your clit.

“ toji! Toji gon cum!! Gonna cumm “ you said as drool left your mouth “ yea? Pretty girl gonna cum? Then do it” he said with a evil tone as he would picked up his pace on fingering you as flicking your clit as your walls clamping onto his fingers as you let out a loud moan as you soon came and squirted everywhere.

“ fuckkk…” he said moaning at the mess you made pulling his fingers out as he watched you quiver and twitch, you had passed out as he would kiss your forehead and go get a towel to clean you up…

[pogueswrld]

*•.¸♡ crush♡¸.•*

pairing: kaz brekker x fem!reader

summary: kaz is handsome. like, very handsome, and reader never realized its effect on her until nina pointed it out and jesper can't keep it a secret.

warnings: reader has a crush on kaz, kaz is in love with reader, they both don't acknowledge it until nina does for reader. it's all very awkward and it's not a happy ending, sorry, but hope y'all like it!!! Also this is more show-based, so sorry about that lovelies.

note: I saw this in a tiktok and had to write it down, excuse me.

Ketterdam was hot. The randomized rise in temperature was so common that the people of the city opted to not wear heavy clothing all year round, except for maybe the Bastard of the Barrel, for he loved dramatics.

Kaz Brekker was known for his dark heavy trench coat, dark vest, dark dress pants, and dark gloves. If there were any colors in his wore drop, it would only be silver and nothing else.

But that's okay because y/n liked him like this.

It was a busy day in the Crow Club. Customers were running in and out of the gambling shop all night, girls were running around serving tables and pouring drinks, and boys rounded up the dice tables and dragged the games for hours on end.

Jesper stood at the door, his beloved boyfriend keeping him company. He was supposed to keep watch, but he was talking to Wylan so that's a job undone. Inej wasn't anywhere in sight, and y/n knew that only meant that she was gathering information for their next heist. Nina was behind the bar, sugarcoating men into emptying their wallets at the deep cut of her dress and her charming grin.

Kaz had just made his first appearance for the night. His coat long gone, probably hung on the back of his office door. His black and silver vest tightly wrapped around his chest, one gloved hand holding onto his crow-headed cane while the other combs through his wet strands of matching black hair. He had just finished going through the paperwork of that day and decided to take a break to check on the pigeons on his tables, and his favorite Crow by the bar.

y/n sat and stared at him from the bar stool. She had the day off after getting injured during their last heist, but couldn't find anything useful to do at the Slat so she decided to head to the Crow Club and keep Nina company. She and Inej were the only good things that came with this place. And maybe the guy who runs the place. And maybe Jesper and his boyfriend.

He felt her eyes on him from the moment he stepped out of the shadows of the stairs leading to his office. He still couldn't understand how she could locate him so easily in a crowd, it was like the moment he steps into the same room as her, something shifts in the air and tells her that he was near, and she merely scans the place before landing on his dark figure. He'd be surprised at how easy it is to locate him.

She thought she should feel ashamed at how easily she gravitated toward him. How easy it was to find him and keep her eyes locked on him until he decided to disappear again. But as she downed another glass of gin or whiskey, she found that she truly couldn't care less.

A chuckle from across from her made her shift her gaze from Kaz to Nina, and she raised a questioning brow. "What?"

"You could at least try to be subtle."

Confused, y/n's brows furrowed as she crossed her arms together. "What do you mean?"

Nina rolled her blue orbs, then with the towel in hand pointed at their boss. "I mean Kaz. You could try to be subtle about ogling him like that."

Her jaw dropped, lips parted and her hand placed the glass on the table. "I don't ogle, wh- what? What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact that your heart ran a hundred miles in a second, about the way your eyes lit up the moment you saw him, and how you bit your lip when he does that thing with his ridiculous hair." Nina shook her head, and y/n is left in shambles at this revelation.

Dumbfounded, she glanced back at Kaz Brekker in all of his glory. The white button-up with the sleeves rolled up only slightly, his gloves tightened around his wrists, and his black vest with silver etchings. He looked somewhat devilish in the golden light of the club but in a very good and delicious way.

"You're doing it again~," Nina said again, in a sing-song voice, and y/n's face turns completely red as she jerks away from him, as he's finally caught her staring, and glared harshly at the glass in her hands.

"Y/n!" Jesper's voice clashed into her mind as his hands grabbed onto the back of her shoulders, he plopped himself beside her while Wylan took the seat next to him. Jesper grinned at the girls and one of his legs came to rest on top of the other. "So, what are we talking about?"

Nina shrugged, and before y/n could attempt to send her a begging glance she parted her lips. "y/n's massively stupid crush on Kaz."

And y/n's face burns a deeper red.

"y/n has a crush on Kaz?" Inej jumped out of nowhere on the other side of y/n, making everyone at the table jump. "Saints! I hate it when you do that," Jesper whined as both he and Inej received shot glasses from Nina.

"I do not have a crush on Kaz!" y/n tried to claim, but Nina wriggled her brows at her. "Sure you do, and you have a crush on his hair most of all. She was frothing at the mouth when he ran a hand through it earlier."

"I was not!" y/n gasped as her friends laughed, Jesper cackled as both Inej and Wylan chuckled. Inej rested a hand on her friend's shoulder, "It's alright to like him, you know? He is the boss of the barrel."

"Shut up," y/n whined, trying very hard to bury her face in her cup. "I do not like him because he's the boss of the barrel. I do not like him at all."

"You don't like who?"

His voice reached them like the scratching of two stones against each other. It dawned on her like cold water on a hot day and it sent shivers down her spine. y/n's back shot up straight as she quickly downed the newest glass of booze down her throat in one gulp, and Nina grimaced because it was one of the stronger alcohols she was serving that night.

"Nothing. No one. Nada." y/n quickly muttered, whipping around to come face-to-face with the man of the hour. Somehow, he was a lot more handsome closer up. His defined cheekbones looked like the edges of a playing card, sharp enough to cut. His bitter coffee-brown eyes stared at her with wonder and curiosity, perfectly arched brows raised in question because he knows better than to believe her bullshit. And of course, she was bullshitting. His lips were set in a terminal scowl, but it seemed softer as he stared at her

For some reason, every sharp edge of him softened around her.

"Really?" He asked, still expecting an honest answer, but Jesper was trying so hard to not choke on his liquor, Inej's brows were nearly at her hairline, and Nina quickly excused herself with the excuse to serve more customers.

y/n was fucked.

He turned his head to his sharpshooter, and y/n sent him a quick glare. Jesper coughed a choke as he stared between Kaz and y/n, then sniffed. "Excuse me, I've got to go watch the door. Come on, Wylan." He tried to jump off his stool, but Kaz's cane shot up and forced him to a stop.

Kaz's brow was still up, and he tilted his head as he stared daggers into Jesper, because he knew he would crack, and y/n was going to be fucked.

Jesper stuttered, "I- Well- It's not really my place to say, now, is it?" For a split second, y/n thought he might let him go and question her instead, then she could make up whatever lie she's got and this can all be over, but Kas only smirked. "When was it ever your place to say anything about anything, Jesper? Fuss up."

The Zemini boy sighed, and he sent an apologetic glance to y/n, who was shaking her head at him aggressively. "You." He winced, "She said she didn't like you."

y/n knew that Kaz was good at masking his feelings. He could feel a hundred emotions at the same time and show absolutely nothing for it, but as her eyes locked on him, she could see that Jesper's words faltered him very slightly, then he was back to Dirtyhands.

He lowered his cane, and Jesper mouthed a 'sorry' to y/n, but only pressed her lips at him as he and Wylan left the scene.

"He doesn't mean that in an 'oh he's my boss and I don't like him so I'm going to go work for the Dime Lions' Way, believe me, he doesn't mean that." y/n tried to explain, then turned to face a grimacing Inej when she realized that she just dug herself a bigger hole.

Kaz rest both of his hands on the head of his cane, his posture completely relaxed, but he was screaming within his mind. "What does he mean then?" His voice came out harsher than he intended, but he wanted to know everything related to his y/n, and if she had her eyes set on someone, he'd like to know. To take out the competition of course.

y/n cringed at herself, "He meant it in a... romantic way? Like, 'I don't- have feelings... for you' way..." She tried, hanging on to every word like a lifeline, hoping beyond hope that he would see the underlying message, and for a moment she could swear there was a change in his expression, but then he was normal again and he hummed. "Good." He said, "That wouldn't be very professional of you, would it?"

Kaz wanted to burn down the world. And Jesper. And himself. Why did he insist on knowing? This was worse than knowing. Now he knew she doesn't have feelings for him, but she does? He wasn't a fool, but he was never really good at reading y/n.

She frowned, her shoulder slumped and a look of near relief washed over her. "Right. No, of course not."

y/n felt her heart sink, and she felt Inej's hand supporting her back, her thumb drawing comforting circles against the fabric of her clothes. She was disappointed that he missed her implied message, but also grateful because if he ever found out her feelings for him, this was not how she'd want him to know.

He sent her a single stiff nod, then his eyes shifted to Inej behind her. "What'd you find?"

And just like that, he was off with her. Inej murmurs the city's secrets to him and just eats it up. y/n turned back on her stool, coming face-to-face with Nina again, and held out her glass for another refill. Never aware of the way Kaz's gaze manages to find itself landing back on her all through the night.

[ohmyamor]

oh my ***

Pairing: ateez (ot8) x reader

Summary: Everyone supposedly has a guardian angel, one that’s tasked to always keep their human out of trouble and on the right path of life. But you don’t just have one, you have...eight?!

w.c. 10.2k

Warnings: fluff, angst, near death experiences, threatening someone wooyoung with a bat, cursing, comfort, reincarnation, i think that’s it?

You wouldn’t necessarily consider yourself a lucky person. 

You also wouldn’t really consider yourself an unlucky person either. 

You just kind of exist, with the occasional good and not-so-good things happening to you. 

Like when you somehow managed to score you and your friends front row seats to see your favorite group in concert. Or the time that you somehow managed to break your ankle and your phone all in the same day. 

So, yeah, you wouldn’t say you’re the luckiest person in the world, but you’re also not the unluckiest person, so you’re pretty fine with continuing your life as is. 

Today, however, has been going oddly perfect. 

You woke up for the first time in forever feeling incredibly well-rested, which has not happened since before you hit puberty. The weather was perfect, maybe a little too perfect, but you didn’t care. You could finally open your windows completely to let in the cool breeze from outside, listening as the birds sang outside of your apartment. 

Checking your phone, you also noticed that your paycheck came in a whole day early. Opening your bank account, you stared wide-eyed at the number that was deposited. It was certainly a much larger amount than your last paycheck. 

Feeling absolutely ecstatic over how well the morning was going, you decided to make a trip to your favorite coffee shop and treat yourself to some breakfast. 

Connecting your phone to your speaker, you selected your favorite playlist and allowed the music to flow through the apartment. Picking out some cute clothes, you began to get ready. As you finished washing your face, you also noticed that your skin seemed to be really nice today, with hardly any redness seeping through and the dark circles under you eyes had seemed to disappear over night. 

Smiling brightly at yourself in the mirror, you finished applying your skincare before moving to get dressed and apply some light makeup. Once you finished, you couldn’t help but check yourself out in the mirror. 

I look so cute today.

Giving yourself a wink, you let out a small laugh at your own antics before grabbing your purse from where it hung on the wall and stepping outside. Making sure the door was locked, you began the short walk to your favorite cafe. 

You couldn’t help but admire how nice the sun felt on your skin. For the past few weeks, the weather had been anything but nice, and it almost felt like the weather had been reflecting your mood. With the project you had been assigned at work, you had been feeling so overwhelmed and stressed out that you often contemplated just quitting in order to get rid of the stress. 

But thankfully, the project was finally done, you had received great feedback from your boss, and it finally seemed as though your little slump was beginning to improve.

Making your way inside the cafe, you walked up to the counter and ordered your usual drink as well as a small pastry. 

A little treat for myself.

Sitting down at a table that had the best view of the street, you made yourself comfortable with your drink as you waited for your pastry. Though, you were pleasantly surprised when the man who took your order came out with two pastries instead of one. 

“Um, I think you might’ve given me the wrong pastry,” you frowned slightly. “I only ordered this one,” you pointed at the pastry that you know for sure you had ordered. 

“Oh!” the man smiled brightly. “No, don’t worry, it’s on the house!” 

Before you could even respond, the man gently placed both pastries on your table, sending you a small wink and making his way back behind the counter. 

You could feel your cheeks warm slightly at the man’s actions. 

Damn, today really is a great day you thought, bringing the pastry up to your mouth and taking a bite out of it. 

Holy shit this is so good too you hummed appreciatively. 

After thoroughly enjoying your breakfast, you bid goodbye to the barista before making your way out of the store. 

Hmmmm, what should I do now?

Glancing around, you remembered that one of your favorite bookstores was about a block away, and quickly made up your mind to go there. 

Walking to the nearest stoplight, you pushed the button on the pole and waited patiently for the light to turn green. Fishing out your phone from your bag, you scrolled aimlessly through social media and responding to some texts your friends had sent. Glancing up, you noticed the light was now green. 

Placing your phone in your pocket, you began to cross the street. 

You were almost at the other side of the crosswalk when a loud screeching noise caused you to whip your head to the side. There was a car moving down the street in your direction incredibly fast, and you watched as people on the sidewalks jumped out of the way as the car swerved from side to side and hit things on the street. 

Your heart raced you watched the car come barreling towards you. It felt like your feet were stuck to the ground and you couldn’t find it in yourself to move. 

Right as the car came feet away from hitting you, you shut your eyes, bracing for the impact of the car hitting your body. 

You barely registered the feeling of someone grabbing your hand and yanking you forward. 

Landing roughly on your hands and knees on the sidewalk, you stared at the cement in front of you as the sound of the car slowly disappeared in the distance. There were people running up to you from both sides of the street, some yelling while others gently crouched next to you and asked if you were okay. 

The strangers helped turn you around and you sat on the sidewalk unable to calm your racing heart. 

“Th-thank you,” you breathed out, looking at the woman who was closest to you. 

Her eyebrows furrowed and she looked at you concerned. 

“For what?”

You swallowed. 

“For grabbing me and pulling me forward. I couldn’t move and I though for sure the car was going to hit me,” you explained. 

It was your turn to look confused when she opened her mouth. 

“Honey, there was no one around you. I certainly wasn’t going to reach you on time and neither was anyone else.”

-

After the lady explained to you that the other pedestrians on the street had just barely reached you after you were already on the sidewalk, you couldn’t shake the feeling of someone’s eyes on you. 

The strangers who had come up to check on you were incredibly nice, and after convincing them to not call an ambulance and that you could stand on your own, the crowd slowly dispersed. 

The woman who had helped you insisted on calling a cab for you, even though you reassured her that you didn’t live far and you could make it home safely. She was adamant, saying that she wouldn’t let you walk home alone after what just happened and said it would weigh heavy on her conscious if she did. 

Eventually, you relented, and waited with her patiently as she called a taxi. 

When the cab eventually pulled up, she gave you a hug and said that she was happy you were okay and to get home safely. 

Waving goodbye through the window, you watched as her figure slowly grew smaller. 

Leaning back against the leather seats, you finally allowed yourself to process what had just happened. 

Your day had been going so well and that car had quite literally come out of nowhere. Even though the lady who helped you said there was no one near you, you were 100% positive you had felt someone grab your hands and pull you forward onto the sidewalk.

Your mind wandered to your parents and the stories they had told you when you were younger of guardian angels. 

“Guardian angels? What’s that?” seven-year-old you has asked your mom.

She smiled, softly running her hand through your hair from where she sat on the edge of your bed. 

“They’re people who are assigned to watch over you and always protect you. They help you when you’re in trouble and make sure you always make good decisions.”

Younger you wrinkled her nose. 

“They’re always watching me? That sounds creepy.”

Your mom laughed, tossing her head back. 

After what you had experienced today, maybe the stories your mom used to tell you weren’t that crazy. 

As the cab you were in slowly came to a stop in front of your building, you thanked the driver and rummaged through your bag looking for some cash to tip him. 

He waved his hand at you, telling you the lady who had flagged him down already paid and there was no need to tip. 

“I’m just glad I could get you home safely.” 

“Oh,” you blinked, kind of surprised he was saying no to being tipped. “Well, thank you, sir.” You said honestly. “I hope you have a great rest of your day,” you said, stepping out of the car. 

The driver bid you farewell and drove away from your building as soon as you walked through the front gates. 

Sighing heavily, you made your way to the elevator in the building and walked into the old machine, watching as the doors closed and the numbers for the floors slowly climbed up.

Honestly, you couldn’t wait to into your bed and knock out. Way too much has happened today that was out of your comfort zone, to say the least. 

Eventually, you reached your front door and reached into your bag to fish out your keys. 

Searching inside your bag with your hand, your eyebrows furrowed when you didn’t feel the familiar metal of your keys. 

I know I brought them with me, so where are they?

Taking your bag off your shoulder, you opened it up and began pulling out everything you had in there. You could feel the pit in your stomach get heavier with every item that was removed and no keys were found. 

You eventually emptied out your entire bag and still, you were unable to find your keys. Leaning your back against your door, you slowly allowed yourself to sink to the ground. 

They must’ve fallen out when I fell, you though bitterly. You could feel the familiar sting of tears in your eyes and you felt a lump in your throat. 

This was the last thing you needed today. 

You’re unsure how long you sat outside your apartment door, wallowing in your own misery. 

The sound of footsteps brought you of your thoughts. 

Glancing up, you noticed a tall man with short pink hair come to a stop in front of you. 

“Is everything okay miss?” 

Holy shit he has a deep voice

You sighed loudly. 

“Not really,” you admit. “I lost my keys at some point when I was out today and my friend who has my spare is out of town for the week.”

You’re not really sure what compelled you to tell all this to the strange man who you’ve never even seen in your apartment, but something about him gives off a very peaceful aura. 

You feel like you could tell him anything. 

The man furrows his eyebrows and a soft pout forms on his face. 

“Aw, I’m really sorry,” he sympathized. 

You shrugged, there wasn’t really anything he could do to help.

He glanced around nervously. Why? You’re not quite sure. 

“I’m, uh, actually one of the maintenance people and we’re here doing some routine check-ups,” he started. 

Check-ups? The building manager didn’t notify me of anything going on this week. 

“If you want,” the man continues. “I can go back down to the leasing office and grab the master key to unlock your door for you?”

You hesitate. 

On one hand, this man is literally offering to go out of his way to help you out and unlock your door for you. 

On the other hand, you have absolutely no way of proving he’s actually who he says he is. He could be a serial killer for all you know and you’ve basically just given him access to unlock your apartment and kill you in your sleep. 

Giving him a once over, you notice the bluish jumpsuit he’s wearing and the work boots he has on. Quite frankly, he does look like he’s been doing some manual labor, so maybe he’s telling the truth. 

“Okay,” you finally reply, albeit hesitantly. 

Honestly, if he does turn out to be a serial killer and comes back to murder you in your sleep, you’ll make sure to haunt him for the rest of his life. 

“Great!” he smiles widely, his eyes turning into the cutest crescent moons you’ve ever seen. 

At least he’ll be a cute serial killer, you think. 

“Oh!” he says, as though he just remembered something. “Also, my name’s Mingi! It’s really nice to meet you!” the man, Mingi, reaches his hand out. 

Pushing yourself off the floor, you quickly dust yourself off before reaching out as well to shake his hand. 

“I’m (Y/n),” you introduce yourself. 

Mingi hums. 

“That’s a really pretty name.”

You can feel your cheeks get warm. 

“O-oh, thank you.” 

It’s quiet for a few moments before Mingi speaks again. 

“Okay, well I’m gonna go downstairs to get the masterkey really quick. Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone!” he jokes, beginning to walk back down the hallway. 

“I’ll try,” you laugh nervously, thinking about the day you’ve had. 

If anything else goes wrong today, you don’t think you’ll have the willpower to keep living. 

You’re only waiting for a few minutes before you can spot Mingi coming back down the hall. 

Damn he’s quick.

“Got it!” Mingi says cheerfully, waving a small key in the air. 

You smile back, feeling relieved that you can finally get inside your apartment. 

He stops in front of your door, pushing the key inside the lock and wriggling it around a few times before you can hear the familiar click of the lock. Letting out a small “aha”, Mingi twists the doorknob and sure enough, the door to your apartment opens. 

You might actually cry tears of happiness. 

“Ma’am,” Mingi says in a fake posh accent, gesturing with his hand for you to go inside. 

You let out a small laugh and walk inside. Mingi remains outside of your door. 

“Well, thank you so much Mingi,” you say earnestly. “I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t showed up at the right time. My knight in shining armor,” you joke. 

Mingi blushes furiously, bringing up a hand to rub the back of his head and looking off to the side. 

“It’s nothing,” he says. “I’m just glad everything worked out.” 

You nod, unsure of what to say next. 

Mingi’s head suddenly snaps to the side, looking at something down the hallway, almost as if he heard something. You frown. You didn’t hear anything. 

“Well, it looks like I have to get going,” he begins. 

You nod. 

“Better get back before the big boss gets mad at you for slacking off, huh?”

You say it as a joke, but Mingi only lets out a nervous laugh. 

“Yeah, something like that.” 

“Um,” you’re not quite sure what to say. “Okay, well thanks again Mingi, I really do appreciate it.” You slowly begin to shut the door.

“Anytime,” he sends you a small wave and bright smile, turning to walk down the hallway as you finally shut the door. 

You don’t spend too much time thinking about Mingi’s strange behavior at the end, chalking it up to him having a really strict boss. Plus, you honestly can’t wait to change into your pajamas and knock out. 

Dropping your purse on your couch, you make your way to your room and quickly change into your pj’s before flinging yourself onto your bed. 

You hug the stuffed bear on your bed closely, feeling the tension and stress from your body slowly begin to fade away as your body succumbs to sleep. 

-

You’re not sure what time it is when you wake up. 

The lack of light coming in from outside lets you know that it’s dark, leaving you to assume it’s either really late or really early. 

You roll back over, fully intending on returning to dreamland when the sound of hushed arguing catches your attention. 

You groan, assuming it’s your neighbors who are always going at it. Seriously, if they argue this much, they should just break up. Arguing that much can’t be healthy for anyone. 

You’ve just grabbed onto your pillow, intending on using it to block out the voices, when you suddenly realize that it’s only male voices you can hear. Sitting up, you strain your ears to try and catch more of what they’re saying. 

You feel yourself freeze when you realize that the voices are coming from your living room. 

You sit frozen on your bed for a few minutes, unsure of what to do. 

Did these people break into your apartment? What are they doing here? What are they going to do to you? 

Reaching out blindly, you attempt to locate your phone, hoping you can at least call the police before the robbers can reach you. Pressing the power button, your heart drops when it doesn’t turn on. In your excitement to knock out, you never put it to charge and now it’s dead. 

Taking a deep breath, you try to think of a course of action. 

Slowly getting out of bed, you reach under the bed to grab the metal bat that you keep in case of emergencies. Maybe, if the robbers don’t have any weapons, you can either scare them off or hurt them enough to grab the home phone sitting on your kitchen counter and call the police. 

You cautiously make your way to the door of your bedroom, letting out a shaky breath before slowly twisting the doorknob. You gently push the door open, thanking whatever gods are out there that it doesn’t make any noise. 

Now that the door is open, you can hear the voices more clearly. 

“Why would you show yourself to her?” 

“What did you want me to do? She was having the worst day, I wasn’t gonna sit back and watch her suffer.” The voice sounds oddly familiar.

Someone else hums. 

“Don’t even say anything,” the original voice whispers angrily. “You should have never interfered earlier.” 

“She was about to get hit by a car, hyung! What did you want me to do, let it happen? Then we would be back to square one all over again.” 

It’s a different voice this time, slightly higher in pitch. 

They’re talking about what happened to you earlier. 

Who the fuck are these people? 

You arrive at the corner of the hallway, gripping your bat impossibly tight and peeking around the corner. 

From what you can see, there’s a few men standing in your living room. One with dark blue hair sits on your couch facing the kitchen, another stands with his back to the hallway where you stand, and there seems to be someone standing in front of him.

You can’t help but let out a small gasp when you realize the man standing with his back facing you has short pink hair. 

Mingi.

All three men whip their heads around. 

They stare at you wide-eyed, including Mingi. 

You come out from behind the corner and point your bat at the men. 

“Who the fuck are you?” you demand. “And why the fuck are you in my apartment?”

Your eyes dart around, trying to keep an eye on every person in the room. Your heart pounds in your chest and your hands are sweaty, but you’ll be damned if you go out without a fight. 

Mingi takes a step forward, his hands raised slightly. 

“(Y/n),” he starts.

He stops when you take a step backward. 

“Mingi, if that’s even your goddam name,” you spit. You miss the way all three men flinch slightly. “What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?” 

“Was helping me earlier just a plot to figure out where I live? Are you gonna kill me?” you question.

A crestfallen look falls on Mingi’s face. A small part of you almost wants to feel bad. Almost. 

“No, not at all,” he defends. “Look, it’s kind of complicated, but I can explain. I just need you to put the bat down.” His eyes dart to the metal bat you have a death grip on.

You let out a harsh laugh. 

“No fucking way. I don’t care who the hell you are, I need you and your friends to get out right now before I call the cops.” You demand. 

“The cops aren’t going to help you sweetheart,” a voice comes from behind you. 

You let out a scream, turning around and blindly swinging your bat. It hits something hard.

“OW!” 

A man with long hair that’s black and silver hunches over in front of you, clutching his stomach. You stare wide-eyed. 

There’s more of them.

And where the fuck are they coming from?

“(Y/n),” someone else says your name. You whip back around, moving backward towards the wall and making sure the men don’t leave your sight. You keep the bat pointed at them. 

The man with dark blue hair siting on the couch is standing now, and he looks at you with wide eyes as well. 

“Please, just put the bat down and we can explain everything to you.”

You shake your head vehemently. 

“You guys broke into my fucking apartment and you want me to calm down?” You laugh incredulously. “Are you guys fucking insane?”

You miss the way the shorter male standing next to Mingi has disappeared. 

Mingi frowns, looking genuinely saddened. 

“I’m really sorry we have to do this.”

You furrow your eyebrows, now genuinely concerned he’s going to murder you. 

“What are you-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence when you feel fingers touch your temple and you black out. 

-

“What did you do?” 

“What we had to! She already managed to hit Wooyoung and she was obviously freaking out so we had to calm her down!”

Someone snickers. 

“Shut up Yeosang.”

“C’mon, you’re telling me it’s a bat that took you out?”

“She has a good swing! You should try getting a metal bat swung directly at your stomach and see how you feel.”

You let out a soft groan at the voices that surround you. They’re too loud.

You’re laying on something soft and it feels familiar as well. 

Am I dead?

“You��re not dead.” 

Your eyes shoot open. 

Sitting up, you groan at the light that shines harshly into your room and shut your eyes. Opening them softly, you glance around. You’re definitely in your room, which is a relief. 

But the eight bodies that surround you bring anything but relief. 

You tense up, your hands gripping at the sheets. 

You can feel tears beginning to blur your vision and you can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whimper. 

Someone lets out a sad noise. 

“We’re not going to hurt you,” a deep voice comes from your right side. 

You look over to see who said that. Familiar brown eyes stare deeply into your own, and the soft pink hair instantly allows you to recognize who just spoke. 

“How can I trust you Mingi?” 

A heartbroken expression falls over his face and he looks unsure of what to say. 

“He’s right sweetheart,” another voice speaks up. “We’re not going to hurt you.” This time it’s another tall man who speaks. He has peach colored hair. His eyes bore into yours, and you feel slightly unnerved at the raw honesty that comes across. 

You don’t say anything, opting to take a glance at all the men who are spread across your room. 

A shorter man who stands closest to your bed sighs and takes a step forward. 

“This isn’t how we wanted to meet, so please accept our deepest apologies for scaring you,” the man begins. 

“We’re your guardian angels.”

-

The man, Hongjoong, had explained to you that they were in fact your guardian angels. 

Typically, humans only had one guardian angel, he had explained, but you were assigned eight. 

Guardian angels were also never, under any circumstances, to reveal themselves to their humans, but some people, Hongjoong glared at the man sitting at your desk with dark blue hair as well as Mingi, had broken these rules. 

Which is why you were currently able to see all of them. 

“How do I even know you’re telling me the truth?” You questioned. This entire situation was absolutely insane and you could barely wrap your head around any of the information that was just given to you. 

“Well, we’ve been watching over you your whole life,” the blue haired male spoke up. “Ask us anything that no one else knows and we can answer it.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, thinking about different things throughout your life that no one knew about you. 

“When I was in middle school and I asked out that boy a year ahead of me, what did he say?”

There’s no way they could know the answer to this. This is literally something I’ve never told anyone and I intend on taking it with me to my grave. 

“He said no because you reminded him of his mom and that grossed him out.” 

You stare wide-eyed at the man with medium length blonde hair that sat in the middle of your floor. 

What the fuck?

“Don’t worry, you honestly dodged a bullet with that one,” another male with cherry red hair shook his head. “You know that guy ended up marrying his first cousin?” The man snorted. 

You had no words. 

You had never told anyone that secret because it embarrassed you so much, but clearly, the men in front of you knew it. 

Maybe they’re telling the truth.

“Of course we’re telling the truth, we’re angels.” 

The man with two-toned hair speaks up. 

You narrow your eyes at him. 

“Did you just read my thoughts?” 

He shrugs. 

“They’re very loud.”

You stare at him. 

“Do you want me to hit you with my bat again?”

The man shudders. 

“Please, don’t.”

Another voice speaks up. 

“You’re taking this surprisingly well,” the man with peach hair pipes in. 

You shrug. 

“I don’t really have any reason to doubt you, I guess.” You hesitate before saying your next words. “Plus, I don’t know what it is, but you guys have this vibe,” you gesture your hand vaguely. 

“It feels...safe?” You shrug, looking down at the spare thread you’ve been messing with since you woke up. “I felt it when I met Mingi earlier, but I didn’t know what to think about it.” 

You miss the way Mingi’s ears turn red. 

An awkward silence falls across the room. 

“Well,” another man, the one who stands next to Hongjoong, begins to speak. “Now that that’s done, we should introduce ourselves. I’m Seonghwa,” he sends you a beautiful smile. 

“I’m Hongjoong, as you already know,” Hongjoong says and you nod. 

“My name’s Yunho,” the man with peach hair speaks up. 

“I’m San,” the man with dark blue hair pipes up, sending you a bright, dimpled smile. You can’t help but send him a small smile back. 

“I’m Yeosang,” the blonde one on your floor gives you a small nod of acknowledgement.

“I’m Wooyoung!” Two-toned hair chirps loudly. You can’t help but side-eye him slightly. “What?” he cries. 

“Please don’t sneak up on me if you don’t want me to hit you again,” you warn. 

A few snickers sound throughout the room. 

“I’m Jongho,” the one with cherry hair tells you. 

Your eyes land on the last man who sits closest to you. 

“I’m Mingi,” he says. “But, you already know that.” 

You nod. He still seems a little bit sad. 

You hesitate, but reach out to softly grab his hand that rests on your bed. 

“Thank you for your help earlier,” you start. “And I’m sorry I didn’t believe you at first.” 

You glance around the room. 

“But, you guys have to understand that this whole situation is kind of crazy.” 

Seonghwa nods. 

“We understand, and we’re sorry for scaring you so much.” He nods his head toward Mingi and San. “But those two broke one of the most important rules that guardian angels must follow.” 

You nod, understanding what Seonghwa’s saying. 

“Wait,” your eyebrows furrow. “I know Mingi broke the rule when he helped me get back inside my apartment, but what did San do?” 

You look at him as he crosses his arms and pouts, reminding you of a scolded child. 

“He’s the one that pulled you out of the street yesterday before the car could hit you,” Wooyoung explains. 

Your eyes widen and you sit up even further. 

“So I was right!” you exclaim. 

Mingi raises a brow.

“I knew I felt someone grab my hands and pull me forward, but the lady who helped me said there was no one there!” You pout slightly. “I thought I was going crazy for a second.” 

You look over at San. 

“Thank you for saving my life,” you tell him sincerely.

San throws his hands up in the air. 

“See? At least she’s grateful for what I did!” 

Yeosang rolls his eyes. 

“Of course she is, you idiot, she would’ve been dead if you hadn’t.” 

This time, you don’t miss the way they all seem to wince at Yeosang’s words.

You frown. 

“Yeah, actually,” you begin. “If you guys are my guardian angels, how come I almost died yesterday?” You look at them expectantly. “Isn’t the whole point of you guys being here to like, keep me alive?”

They avoid your eyes.

“We were a little...preoccupied,” Hongjoong admits. 

You click your tongue. 

“Well, at least San was there for me.” 

You send a grateful smile to him, which he returns with slightly red cheeks. 

“Hey!” Mingi whines. “I helped you too!”

You roll your eyes. 

“Yes you did, you big baby, but San literally saved my life,” you emphasize. 

“And I didn’t?” Mingi asks, offended. “What if I never showed up? You would’ve had to sleep on the streets and who knows what would’ve happened then?”

“Oh my god,” you groan, throwing yourself back on your bed. 

“I didn’t know angels were this dramatic!”

Jongho lets out a laugh. 

“The most,” he admits. 

The sound of your stomach rumbling has a warm flush spreading across your cheeks. 

“You haven’t eaten?” Yunho furrows his eyebrows.

“Mmmm, not since breakfast yesterday, I think,” you admit. 

Wooyoung jumps out of his chair. 

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll make you the best meal you’ve ever had,” he sends you a small wink before heading out of your room towards the kitchen. 

“He’s not going to burn my apartment down right?” You ask worriedly.

Hongjoong shakes his head. 

“No, Wooyoung’s actually a really good cook,” he reassures you. 

“Plus,” San says. “You have seven angels here to protect you if anything!”

You’re not sure if that makes you feel any better. 

- 

As it turns out, Hongjoong was right, and Wooyoung is an excellent cook. In a span of 20 minutes, he’s managed to make you an omelet that looks like it came straight out of a Studio Ghibli movie, along with some oatmeal, fresh fruit, and what looks like freshly squeezed orange juice. 

“Wow,” you gape at the food. 

Wooyoung motions for you to sit at the table. 

“It was meant for you to eat, not just stare at.”

You happily oblige, sitting down at the table and bringing up the fork to your mouth, only to pause when you realize no one else has food. 

“We don’t have to eat,” Seonghwa explains, reading your mind. “We can if we want to, but it’s not necessary for us to survive.”

You nod, feeling a little less guilty about eating in front of them. 

Letting out a satisfied hum at the taste of the food, you send Wooyoung a thumbs-up. He smiles brightly. 

“So,” you start, swallowing your food and taking a quick sip of your juice. “Now that I’ve met you guys and I know you exist, are you going to go back to being invisible to me?” 

Hongjoong and Seonghwa share a look. 

“Not exactly,” Hongjoong says. 

You raise an eyebrow, motioning for him to continue. 

“Now that you know we exist, we can’t exactly just disappear,” he elaborates. “It’s one of the reasons guardian angels aren’t meant to reveal themselves to their humans.” 

You nod slowly. 

“So, humans just never find out they have a guardian angel? Like, ever?”

Jongho mutters something under his breath. Yunho kicks his leg under the table.

“Sorry, what was that?” You ask, looking at him. 

He avoids your gaze. 

A tense silence falls over the table. 

You notice how Mingi shakes his leg anxiously. San taps his fingers on the table and Yunho avoids your gaze. 

You narrow your eyes at them. 

“There’s something you guys aren’t telling me.” It’s not a question. 

“I don’t think now is the best time to talk about this-” Hongjoong starts. 

“Humans only find out about their guardian angels when their time is near,” Wooyoung says calmly. 

Hongjoong glares at him. Wooyoung only shrugs. 

“What? She was bound to find out eventually.” 

“Their time?” You look around at the men that sit at your table. “Like, when they’re about to die?”

Yeosang nods. 

You let out a small “oh”, looking down at the unfinished food that stares at you.

It’s silent as you think about the information they’ve just given you. 

“The car,” you swallow. “The car that almost hit me yesterday. Was it,” you almost can’t get the words out. “Was it supposed to hit me?”

Your question comes out in a whisper. 

No one responds, but when you look up, they all fix you with a sad look.

You nod.

“Okay.” 

You push your plate away from you. 

You don’t have an appetite anymore. 

“I’m sorry,” Mingi whispers from your left side. 

His large hand gently encompasses yours. You nod, refusing to look him in the eyes. 

“But we’re not going to let you die.” 

You look up at San’s determined voice, barely able to see him through your misty eyes. 

“What?”

“We’re not letting you die,” he says firmly. “It’s not your time.” 

You shake your head. 

“I’m pretty sure if the universe decides it’s my time, then it’s my time,” you reply. You’re not sure if you’re saying it to convince them, or yourself. 

“I can’t just avoid fate.”

Hongjoong sighs. 

“San’s right.” 

You send him a questioning look. 

“We’re your guardian angels. We’re not going to let you die.” 

“Screw what the universe says,” Yeosang chimes in. 

You stare at them incredulously. 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“Look,” Yunho starts. “We’ve been thinking about it, and we’re pretty sure the universe is wrong about it being your time. We’ve been around for centuries, usually we have a good sense of when it’s going to be someone’s time and when it’s not.”

“And we don’t get that feeling with you,” Jongho continues for him. “We never have.”

“So, we’re going to do our best to make sure you stay out of harms way,” Yeosang finishes.

Your throat feels constricted and you can barely see through all the tears that have welled up in your eyes. 

“You guys would do all that for me?” You choke out. 

Mingi squeezes your hand. 

“Of course. We’re not your guardian angels for nothing.”

You sniffle, looking down at your lap and bringing up your other hand to wipe at your eyes. 

“Thank you guys,” you tell them sincerely. 

“Anything for you,” Seonghwa smiles softly. 

-

After the conversation at breakfast, the nine of you come up with a vague plan Wooyoung affectionally dubbed “Keeping Our Human Alive”. Despite the look you had given him, you had to admit, it made you laugh.

You all agreed it would be best for at least one of them to accompany you every day, more if any of them felt like tagging along. 

“That way,” Hongjoong explained, “if anything unexpected happens, at least one of us will be able to protect you.” 

You agreed.

“What about when I go to work and stuff?” You had questioned. “Won’t it be weird if there’s a different guy following me around every day?”

Yunho shook his head. 

“Just because you can see us doesn’t mean everyone else can see us too. We can make ourselves visible to other people besides our assigned human if we want,” he explained. 

“Oh, okay. Well, that certainly makes this easier then.” 

“What would you prefer for us to do?” Questioned San. “Do you want us to remain invisible all the time or only at work?”

You think it over for a minute before shrugging.

“Honestly, whatever’s most comfortable for all of you. I would prefer if at work you guys are invisible, but while we’re in public and stuff, whatever you guys feel comfortable with is fine by me.”

At your answer, they all give you fond looks which makes your face feel slightly warm. Clearing your throat, you continue.

“Also, I was thinking about it and if you guys are going to be with me 24/7 now, we need some ground rules.”

Jongho chuckled.

“Technically, we’ve always been here, you’ve just barely found out.”

You realize he’s right, and the memories of every single embarrassing thing that you’ve ever done in the privacy of your own home comes rushing back to you.

“Well, yeah, now that I know you guys are here,” you stumble over your words slightly. “Privacy is really big for me. I don’t have many rules, but I just ask that you guys don’t show up unannounced or else that might really freak me out, and please, if you’re going to come into my room, just knock.”

Everyone nods their heads in agreement.

“And,” you continue, “no more reading my thoughts please.”

Only a few of them nod, which makes you grow slightly concerned.

“Is that a problem?” You ask, a slight edge to your voice.

“Not at all,” Seonghwa reassures.

“It’s just that we do get a little concerned for when you’re alone. Being aware of your thoughts helps us decide if you need our help at that moment or not,” Hongjoong explains.

You nod.

“I get that, but if at least one of you is going to be by my side every single day from now on, I really don’t think there’s any need for you to read my thoughts.”

You continue.

“Plus, it’s really just about privacy for me. I don’t really feel comfortable with you guys having access to every single thought in my head, no matter how big or small.”

Hongjoong and Seonghwa both nod.

“We understand. And we’ll do our best to respect your boundaries.”

“Thank you guys,” you send them a small smile.

“Plus, if I need any help or anything, I’ll just yell out ‘bat’ really loud,” you joke, referring to the bruise you might’ve left on Wooyoung’s stomach.

Everyone laughs except for him.

“Not funny,” he pouts.

You let out a small giggle, patting him lightly on the arm. 

“You did kind of deserve it, my friend.”

Clapping your hands together, you let out a deep exhale. 

“Now that that’s all settled, I need to go grocery shopping. All of you are more than welcome to come.” 

A few of them look very excited, which both excites you and makes you slightly nervous. 

“Thank you for the invitation,” Hongjoong starts. “But Seonghwa and I will have to pass this time.”

You pout slightly. 

“Aw man.” 

“Trust me,” Seonghwa starts. “We would love to go on our first official errand run with you, little one, but we have some business to deal with upstairs.” 

He uses his index finger to point up and you look up as well.

Upstairs? 

“Ohhhh, you mean, like, heaven and all that,” you laugh nervously at your lack of understanding. 

The two men nod. 

“But don’t worry, we should be back by the end of the day,” Hongjoong reassures you. 

“Don’t worry guys,” Mingi slings an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “We’ve got this.” 

Hongjoong and Seonghwa stare at the male by your side, slightly unamused. 

“That’s what we’re scared of.”

-

It’s officially been about a week since your near death experience and finding out about your guardian angels. 

While having all of them around had certainly been awkward at first, you’ve all slowly begun to fall into a routine. Sometimes, you feel as though you’ve known them your whole life. 

Which, to a certain extent, you kind of have. 

Something about having them around just makes you feel incredibly safe and warm inside. Not to mention the slight butterflies you’ve been experiencing around them, but you’re quick to try and cage them as soon as they appear. 

Wooyoung and Seonghwa have taken it upon themselves to cook most of the meals for the nine of you. Every day when you come home from work, you can always count on a warm, freshly cooked meal to be waiting on the table for you. 

“You’re kind of like my house husbands,” you joked to them one time. 

Seonghwa blushed, while Wooyoung had blown you a kiss. 

“Anything for you sweetheart.”

Yunho and Mingi are the two that typically accompany you to work, although sometimes Jongho will tag along if he doesn’t have anything else to do. Despite the tall men’s playful personalities, they were both incredibly smart and helped you with your work whenever you felt particularly stressed out. 

San was certainly one of the more playful angels, you had noticed. 

Although all of them were fun to be around, San was always the first to notice when your mood wasn’t the best, and he was the best at comforting you after a long day. A bad day at work usually ended with San waiting for you with open arms as soon as you walked through the door for some cuddles and quiet time. 

When Wooyoung and Mingi had found out about this little routine, they both immediately demanded to be allowed into the “cuddle time” as they called it.

Jongho and Yeosang were the two individuals who you enjoyed spending some quiet time with. The three of you would usually wind down together with some tea and some books or a show. Although they were a little more reserved than the others, you still genuinely enjoyed your time with both of them.

But they certainly had their moments where they could be just as chaotic as the others. 

Exhibit A was the day you walked into your apartment to see Yeosang and Yunho standing in your kitchen covered in flour. 

“What happened?” you had asked, absolutely astounded by the amount of flour that somehow managed to cover every inch of your kitchen. You didn’t even think you had that much flour to begin with. 

The two of them sheepishly admitted that they were trying to bake some cookies, but things had gotten out of hand. 

Clicking your tongue, you walked over to the roll of paper towels to begin cleaning up. 

“What am I going to do with you guys-”

You had just turned around when the feeling of something soft and powdery hit your face. You sputtered, staring wide-eyed at the two angels. Yunho looked at you and then turned to Yeosang, who avoided your eyes. 

What followed next was a flour fight that resulted in a very long clean-up shift.

There was also the time you found out Jongho literally had the voice of an angel. 

The two of you were headed to your local plant store to look for some new plants to decorate your apartment with when one of your favorite songs came on the radio. 

Turning the volume up, you began singing along softly as did Jongho. As the song continued, his voice grew louder, and when the two of you reached a red light, you were unable to do anything except stare at him slack-jawed at the voice that was coming out of him. Only the sound of the car behind you honking was able to shake you out of your stupor.

Now, you guys have little karaoke parties in your car when the two of you are alone.

The only angel you had yet to spend a lot of time with, however, was Hongjoong. 

The man always seemed to be busy, as he was hardly ever in your actual apartment. Most mornings when you woke up, he was gone and he wouldn’t show up until the evenings. 

You would be lying if you said the hushed arguments he would have with some of the others didn’t concern you. They always occurred at night, when they assumed you were fast asleep. And they always revolved around the same thing. 

“She’s not the exact same, and that’s okay, but you guys can’t keep expecting her to be the same as our (Y/n).” You heard Hongjoong say one night.

You had been unable to fall back asleep after that.

Today, though, you really needed to go to the post office, and Hongjoong was the only angel available to accompany you. 

You stood awkwardly at the end of your table where Hongjoong sat using your laptop to do something. 

“Uh,” you clear your throat. “Hongjoong?”

He looks up a little startled. 

“(Y/n),” he acknowledges. “Is everything okay?” He looks at you concerned. 

“Yeah everything’s fine!” You reassure him. 

“I just need to run a quick errand and the others are all busy so I was wondering if you could go with me,” you trail off.

God this is awkward. 

To your surprise, although you really shouldn’t be, he nods his head quickly.

“Yeah of course. We can go now, if you’re ready?”

“Cool, let me just grab my bag and we can get going!” You rush to your room to grab your bag before walking back to the front door where Hongjoong already waits for you. 

The two of you agree to make the short walk to the post office, commenting on how the nice weather is today. 

Exiting through the front gates of your apartment, you two begin walking down the sidewalk shoulder to shoulder in silence. 

“So is-”

“I wanted-”

The two of you start talking at the same time. 

You both let out a laugh and you can feel your shoulders relax a bit. 

“Go ahead,” you allow Hongjoong to speak first. 

He takes a deep breath.

“I just wanted to apologize for the way I’ve been acting lately,” he says as he stares into your eyes. 

You have to admit, that’s not what you were expecting him to say.

“Huh?”

“I’ve been really distant and pre-occupied lately,” Hongjoong continues. “And I know you’ve noticed, so I want to sincerely apologize. There’s been a lot of stuff I’ve been dealing with and I don’t want you to think I don’t like this,” he gestures between the two of you, “thing we have going on.”

You shake your head. 

“No, please don’t feel like you have to apologize Hongjoong. To be completely honest, I have no clue what it is you guys have to deal with in the first place, but I’m really grateful you’ve all gone out of your way to help me.” 

You let out a small, sad laugh. 

“If I’m being honest, I don’t really get why you guys are helping me in the first place. I’m sure you’ve all had hundreds of different assigned humans throughout your existence, so I’m nothing special.” 

Hongjoong stops abruptly and turns to face you. 

“That’s not true,” he says firmly. The serious expression on his face has you taken aback. 

“What?”

“You said you’re nothing special. That’s not true.”

Hongjoong sighs and grabs both of your hands. 

“Look, it’s complicated to explain, and I will tell you, but we agreed we all wanted to tell you together. So, if you’re okay with waiting, I can tell you everything that’s been going on as soon as we get back to your apartment.” 

You would be lying if you said his words don’t scare you a little bit. 

“It’s okay Hongjoong, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” you reassure him, softly running your fingers over his knuckles. 

He shakes his head. 

“I- We all want to tell you, and you deserve to know the truth.” 

You nod your head. 

“Okay. Back at my apartment it is then,” you send him a small smile, which he returns. 

“Before we head to the post office,” you start. “Do you want to visit my favorite cafe with me?” 

Hongjoong smiles softly at you. 

“I would love to.” 

You guys continue walking down the few blocks and after a few minutes, you both stand at the stoplight that sits across from the cafe. You and Hongjoong laugh at the stories you tell him about the antics Yunho and Mingi get up to when you’re at work. The light turns green, and you begin to cross the street. 

“I’m telling you, I just told them about this lady in my office who’s always getting on my nerves and they made it their mission to inconvenience her in every way possible!” You exclaim. 

Hongjoong lets out a hearty laugh and you smile widely at how relaxed he looks. 

Just as your about to continue your story, you notice the wind blowing your letter out of your purse. 

Cursing, you tell Hongjoong to wait on the sidewalk while you run quickly after the paper. The letter lands in the middle of crosswalk and you’ve just barely managed to pick it up when the sound of someone yelling your name makes you whip around. 

Coming towards you at a terrifying speed is a car. 

You stand frozen in the middle of street, unable to move your feet. 

You barely manage to catch a glimpse of Hongjoong’s terrified face when you feel your body get thrown back, and everything turns black. 

-

You stand in a green field. 

The scenery is absolutely gorgeous and you can feel the warm sun and cool breeze on your skin. 

Looking around, you notice a large, crystal blue lake in the distance. Your legs begin to take you in that direction on their own accord.

You reach the lake and crouch down, slightly dipping your hand in the cool water. Soft ripples make their way across the surface of the water and you can’t help but feel completely at ease in this place.

Whatever this place is.

As you continue staring down into the water, you notice your reflection seems to look different.

The you staring back has much longer hair than you currently have, and the clothes your reflection wears is older, looking like they come from an early Victorian age.

You tilt your head to the side and notice that your reflection’s head doesn’t move.

A voice sounds out through your mind.

“You need to go back.”

“Go back?” You whisper aloud.

Your reflection nods.

“They need you.”

Other you doesn’t specify who you two are talking about, but deep down, you think you already know the answer.

Your reflection sends you a gentle smile before disappearing. You watch as the water returns to its calm state before gently pushing yourself back up to your feet.

You take one last look around the field you’re in, before closing your eyes.

-

The first thing you notice is how dark it is.

You can hear the sounds of people talking and crying around you, and you can feel hands softly grabbing your body, but you’re unable to open your eyes or move.

“Please,” someone whispers over your body.

“Please don’t leave us again.”

You lose consciousness once again.

-

The next time you wake up, your entire body hurts.

You let out a soft groan, slowly opening your eyes and allowing them to adjust to the soft light of your lamp.

Something heavy rests near your right hand, and turning your head slightly, you can see a head of familiar pink hear laying down next to you.

Using what little strength you have in your body, you raise your hand and gently rest it on Mingi’s head. Softly, you run your fingers through the short strands on his head.

He makes an inaudible noise and turns his head over so that you can now see his face. As you continue stroking his head, his eyes flutter open. He looks a little bit confused for a few seconds before his body is shooting up and he stares at you shocked.

“(Y/n),” he whispers softly.

“Hi Mingi,” you reply.

You watch as tears well up in his eyes and he throws himself on top of you, mindful to not rest his entire body weight on you. You can hear footsteps rushing towards your room before your bedroom door is being slammed open.

You can barely see over Mingi’s broad back that covers your frame, but you already know who it is.

As Mingi releases you, you attempt to sit up, only to stop and hiss in pain when jolts of pain shoot up your back.

“Be careful, little one,” Seonghwa says, moving forward to help adjust some pillows behind you.

You thank him and take a moment to look around at each of the men that surrounds your bed. You notice the dark circles under their eyes and the way their skin seems to lack it’s normal glow.

“You guys look worse than I feel,” you joke, trying to lighten the mood.

Yeosang frowns.

“You’ve been out for 4 days, sunflower.”

You blink harshly.

“Four days?”

Jongho nods.

“The worst four days of our entire existence,” he says.

You look down at the blanket that rests on your lap.

“I’m sorry.”

You’re not quite sure what you’re apologizing for.

“No I’m sorry.”

It’s Hongjoong who speaks.

He comes to your side, falling onto his knees beside your bed and taking your hand into his. He leans down to rest his forehead against your hand.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” he cries.

“I should’ve known. I should’ve seen the car coming, I should’ve moved faster, I should’ve gotten you out of the way-” he sobs.

“No, Hongjoong,” you shake your head. “There’s nothing you could’ve done, the car came out of nowhere and it was too fast.”

“I don’t think you understand,” Yunho whispers.

“We swore to never let you pass before your time again.”

You can’t help the confused look you give them, but then, you remember the reflection you saw in the lake.

How the person looked just like you, but from a different era.

The arguments you heard Hongjoong have with the others.

Softly resting your palm on Hongjoong’s tear stained face, you speak.

“I need you guys to explain everything to me.”

-

All nine of you sit in your living room.

The boys helped you get settled on the couch, where you sit with San and Wooyoung flanking both of your sides. Hongjoong and Seonghwa sit across from you three while Mingi sits on the floor next to your legs. Yunho sits to the right of San and Yeosang and Jongho remain standing, but still close.

“This isn’t the first time we’ve met you,” Hongjoong begins.

“We’ve been very lucky to have met you almost every single time you’ve been reborn.”

Yeosang continues.

“The first time we met you was an accident. You happened to stumble upon me when I was helping a wounded human at the time. Soon after, I introduced you to the others.”

“But I thought the only time humans could see a guardian angel was when they were close to death?” You questioned.

Jongho nods sadly.

“You passed away shortly after meeting the rest of us.”

“In almost every single life where you’ve been reborn,” Wooyoung explains.

“We’ve managed to find you, but we’ve never been granted the luxury of time.”

You softly run your fingers through his hair, hearing the tremble of his voice as he speaks.

“The last two times that you’ve been born, we’ve been fortunate enough to be your guardian angels,” Seonghwa smiles.

“But in your last life, you passed away prematurely,” San says.

You turn your head towards him.

“A freak accident that we weren’t able to save you from.”

Mingi turns around to look up at you from where he rests by your legs.

“We failed you,” he whispers sadly.

You shake your head.

“You guys didn’t fail me. Not then, and not now. Just because you guys are angels doesn’t mean you can control everything that happens.”

“Sometimes,” you take a deep breath. “Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you can’t always protect the ones you love.”

“But we have to,” Hongjoong says, looking you in the eye. “Not only is that our job, but for selfish reasons too.”

He looks down at his hands.

“We couldn’t take watching you die another time.”

It’s silent for a moment.

“How am I still here then?”

Hongjoong looks back up at you.

“We made a deal.”

You send him a questioning look.

“A deal?”

All the men surrounding you nod.

“What kind of deal?” You prod, noticing how they seem to hesitate to give you more details.

“Our life in exchange for yours.”

You inhale sharply, the sudden movement causing pain to shoot up your back. Wooyoung and San attempt to soothe your pain, but your mind is only focused on the information they just gave you.

“What?”

“We made a deal with God,” Yunho starts. “Our status in heaven as guardian angels, in exchange for the guarantee that you would live a full life.”

“What?” you say breathlessly. “Why, why would you guys do that?”

“Because we’re selfish,” Jongho says, looking at you with such tenderness you’re unsure of what to do with yourself.

“And we don’t care about being angels or having those powers and helping others if it means we have to live in a world without you in it,” Mingi finishes.

Tears begin to well up and spill out of your eyes before you can stop them. San and Wooyoung cuddle impossibly closer to you, hugging you tightly while the others watch on with misty eyes.

“Thank you,” you sob into your hands. “Thank you.”

They all smile.

-

It’s been about a month since you almost (should’ve) died.

In that month, the ex-angels did their best to help you recover from your injuries, although they certainly complained about no longer having healing powers to help stop you from being pain.

“Welcome to the life of being a human,” you rolled your eyes.

“This is lame, maybe we should’ve stayed as angels,” Wooyoung muttered.

You smacked him on the chest, ignoring his yelp and complaints.

“Don’t make me bring out the bat again,” you warned.

After you were fully recovered, you focused on helping the boys adjust to their new lives as humans.

“Why do we have to walk everywhere?” Mingi groaned, dragging his feet behind you.

You rolled your eyes.

He’s just like a little kid.

“Because my car can only fit four of you, but all eight of you decided to accompany me to the store,” you remind him.

He says nothing, but you could still hear his grumbling.

As they’ve slowly adjusted to human life, the nine of you have fallen into a smooth routine that’s oddly domestic.

Wooyoung and Seonghwa continue to cook the meals for you guys, and you all make an effort to eat at least one meal together a day.

Seeing as most of them aren’t morning people, you typically opt to eat dinner together instead.

You’ve also decided to introduce them to your favorite bookstore.

“How ironic,” you muse, walking hand in hand with San and Yunho as you all approach the quaint shop.

“What is, sunflower?” Yeosang questions.

“This bookstore is the whole reason I met you guys in the first place,” you give San’s hand a small squeeze.

He squeezes it back three times.

Later that night, when you’ve all returned home, you guys decide to have a small movie night.

After arguing over what movie to watch, Jongho insisted on watching a horror movie, which Mingi complained about loudly.

Not that it mattered, most everyone ended up falling asleep by the time the film was halfway over, including yourself.

You could hear the sound of someone moving around quietly in the living room and turned your head to the side, burying your face deeper into Mingi’s chest. The feeling of a blanket being laid over the two of you was welcomed.

You felt someone leave a soft kiss on the side of your head.

“Goodnight my love,” Hongjoong whispered softly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You hummed in reply, falling back asleep perfectly content and safe in the presence of your lovers.

                                        ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

a/n: my fic to celebrate hitting 50 followers, you guys are insane, i love you all so much and i hope you enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it :)

[kirby0strombolli]

R U Mine?

matt sturniolo x reader

Summary: After a heated argument, Matt is determined to win back what's his.

Warnings: cursing, kissing, smut.

A/n: Based on R U mine? by Arctic Monkeys!

matt's pov

In my mind, when she's not right there beside me.

I go crazy 'cause here isn't where I wanna be

I don't want to be here.

As I trudged through my shift at the coffee place, every moment felt like an eternity, and I was already having a pretty shit day so far.

I'd currently spilled hot tea on myself, was late to work, and pissed on by a dog.

And hungover from last night.

So, to say the least, today was a shit day.

And I was on edge. She wasn't replying to my texts. She was all that I could think about. I couldn't focus on anything today.

Glancing at the previous messages I'd sent her last night, which she'd read, I sigh, my mind in a thousand places.

y/n <3 me R U mine? 04:25 ✓✓

Carrying a heavy tray of coffee, I glance at the clock, willing time to move faster, to see the girl I'd loved for so long, but it seemed to mock me, ticking away at a snail's pace.

The dull hum of the espresso machine behind me grated on my nerves, and the chatter of customers grated on my ears.

Everything was fucking annoying me.

Before I even have the chance to turn back to my tray, I feel an elbow in my face. Caught off guard, I drop the tray, and the shattering sounds meet my ears first.

I squeeze my eyes shut, gritting my teeth together.

I don't yell. I don't even act. I don't turn to meet whoever it was who had just pushed me off the edge.

'I'm going crazy.' I tell myself, 'being away from her'.

I'm pulled back to reality when I hear disapproving chatter, and my eyes snap open, to be met with annoyed faces.

Clenching my jaw, I almost rip my apron off my body, slamming it on the nearest table before grabbing my stuff and storming out the coffee shop, the door slamming shut behind me.

As I stepped outside, not daring to look back, as if it were planned, thunder rumbled overhead, unleashing a torrent of rain.

Thunder rumbled ominously overhead, mirroring my turbulent mood.

Great. Just- great.

With a sarcastic quip muttered under my breath, I quickly made my way to my motorbike, rain pelting down on me mercilessly.

But as I feel my phone buzz in my pocket, I stop in my tracks.

Without looking, I knew who it was. Her.

With my head bowed against the rain, I pull my phone out, checking the notification.

I was correct.

As I read the message, my heart jumped to my throat.

y/n <3 me R U mine? 04:25 ✓✓ y/n <3 We need to talk. mine in 10. me make it 5. ✓✓

I sigh in relief, and, not wasting a moment, before revving the motorbike engine, throwing my helmet atop my head, and steadying myself with a deep breath.

I could feel my clothes clinging to my skin, soaked through, but I hardly noticed.

I was numb.

All I could think about was the message I'd just received from the girl I couldn't even live without.

I couldn't help myself.

Even under the influence of alcohol last night, she was the only thing I could think about.

About her being mine.

And I can't help myself

All I wanna ever say is, "Are you mine?"

As Matt revved his motorcycle through the pouring rain, each drop felt like a palpable reminder of his urgency.

The rain pelted against his helmet, the sound mingling with the roar of the engine as he raced towards her house.

With each passing moment, his anticipation grew, the image of her lips haunting his thoughts.

The rhythm of the rain matched the pounding of his heart as he neared her apartment.

Each streetlight illuminated the path ahead, guiding him towards his destination.

In his mind, there was only one thing that mattered – for her to be his.

And as he approached her house, his pulse quickened with the promise of what awaited him beyond her door.

Without bothering to park the motorbike, I jump off, tearing my helmet off before making my way to her door.

I stop outside her door, staring at the white paint that coated it's frame.

The as if my thoughts spoke out loud, the door opened, revealing y/n.

Her eyes seemed to shine in the dull light of her apartment room, and the way she bit her lip left me feeling dizzy.

And the way her tiny shorts accentuated her curves...

As my eyes roam over her figure, I can feel hers on mine, too.

"What are you staring at, loser?" she teased, a playful smile gracing her lips.

My heart skips a beat, caught off guard by her words, and I look down nervously.

But as I feel her hands on my face, my anxiety disappears, replaced with desire as I look up, lips pursed about to reply.

She's a silver lining, climbin' on my desire

Before I could say anything else, she pulled me into a kiss, her hands buried in my soaked hair.

Pleasure surged through me as our lips met, the taste of rain and desire mingling in the air.

My hands roam eagerly over her body, pulling her closer to me as my hands rest on her waist.

As we pull apart, she winks with a sly smile and grabs my hand, electricity shooting through me.

Without a word, she backed into the room, drawing me with her like a magnet. I followed willingly, the intensity of her gaze pulling me closer.

Then, as soon as we were inside, our lips met once again, mine moving against her soft ones with urgency.

In the midst of our embrace, I kick the door closed behind us, the sound barely registering as we lost ourselves in each other.

I feel her smile against the kiss and we stumble backward together, willing to find the bed.

As we stumbled backward, we ended up on her unmade bed, our bodies entwined as we lay on our backs, staring up at the ceiling.

Our breaths slowed and I turned to her, scooting closer, my lips hovering above her collarbone.

I pressed my lips slowly, trailing down her neck, biting softly as I felt her tremble against me, yearning for more.

As I make my way back up to her lips, she gently pulls away, and smashes her lips against mine again.

This time the kiss was needy, full of light moans as I prod my tongue at her lower lip before slipping into her mouth, fighting for dominance.

I detach my lips from hers, panting for breath, watching her swiftly unbutton her shirt, pulling it over her head.

''Well, that was quick.'' I smirk and she hits my arm playfully.

I admire her semi-exposed breasts, peaking over the top of her bra, I feel myself get even harder than I was when she opened the door.

I groan as she palms me through my black sweats, my erection clear.

"Fuck." I bite the inside of my cheek as I look down at her, her hair dishevelled, her cheeks flushed, the red marks on her neck stating she was mine.

She still looked beautiful.

But I needed to know one thing.

"Before I do this, I need to know one thing." I lick my lips, awaiting a response.

"I'm ready, Matt." She looks up at me through my eyelashes, her hands reaching for my belt.

I shake my head, the question floating in my head.

She cocks her head, confused.

I brush away a strand of her hair, my nerves kicking in.

"Well, are you mine?" I bite my cheek hard, prepared for the worst.

She looks up in realisation, and with a smirk she replies;

''Fuck yeah.''

"Say it." I demand, pounding into her from behind, the room full of breathy moans and the squelching of my length inside her perfect cunt.

She says something inaudible into the pillow, letting out short whimpers after I grip her hair and lift her head from the pillow.

"Want to hear your pretty noises, yeah? Now say it." I grip her hips harshly and pound impossibly deeper into her, hitting that sweet spot several times as she yells my name.

"Fuck, matt...I'm yours." She whined, bucking her hips up to mine, her knuckles turning white from grasping the sheets.

"Good girl." I grunt, "Gonna come..." I'm barely finished as I feel her release around me, her cunt squeezing around my cock as I release my load into her.

I ride out our highs, with my head thrown back in ecstasy, hips snapping against hers, never wanting to stop as I hear her cries from under me, fuelling me to go on.

Eventually, my pace slows, and I slowly pull out, patting her ass, as I sit up, pulling my boxers back on.

I lean back against the frame of the bed, my arm resting on her hip.

When she doesn't move, I gently climb over her, and lay next to her, looking up at the ceiling.

"You good?" I ask, peering over at her, concerned.

"That was the best sex i've ever had." She slowly turns around to face me, her voice hoarse.

"mhm?" I smile, running my tongue over my teeth with a slow, deliberate motion, the gesture seemingly innocent yet undeniably seductive.

My eyes locked with hers, holding her captive in the intensity of my gaze, as if silently conveying my unspoken desires.

God she looked so good right now.

She nods, a small smile plastered on her face.

I grin, momentarily placing a kiss on her cheek before jumping up to the bathroom.

"All you and that pretty little cunt." I smirk, grabbing a towel and wetting it.

Before making my way back to her, I turn the water on, and grab some towels.

When I return back to her, she's barely sitting up, her lips red, hickeys along her neck, hair a mess.

She still looked like an angel.

"Hey, beautiful." I kneel on the floor, gently prizing open her legs, settling the towel above her cum-covered pussy.

"Who said I wanted to stop?" I look up at her; She has a smirk on her face as she moves the towel aside, caressing my face.

"I want your face in between my thighs so bad," She whispers, and I feel my just soft dick get hard again in the matter of seconds.

I swallow hard, gripping her thighs,"Yeah, ma?" She nods, biting her lip and I lower my face down, not breaking eye contact, working my way up to her cunt, peppering kisses down her thighs, biting harshly as she lets out gasps and soft moans, enough to make me come in my pants, there and then.

When I finally reached my destination, I paused, taking a moment to admire the sight before me. Her thighs were spread wide, her pussy glistening.

With a slow, deliberate motion, I spread her folds apart, not being able to resist the urge to bury my face between her thighs, to explore every inch of her with my tongue.

I traced slow circles around her clit, relishing in the way she squirmed beneath me, her hands clutching at the sheets as she begged for more.

I don't need to look up to tell she's enjoying this as she begins to grasp my hair, pulling on the strands lightly, making me groan, the vibrations from my voice making her even more wet.

I lick a stripe up her wet cunt, my eyes rolling to the back of my head at how good she tasted.

"taste so good, ma."

I can hear her hitched breaths and quiet whimpers, each sound of hers edging me to go faster. I begin to swirl my tongue over wet pussy, my nose brushing over her clit.

"don't stop, matt" she whines, bucking her hips up onto my face.

I plunge my tongue into her cunt, dripping with her slick arousal, and thrust it aggressively into her, my head buried deep between her legs.

Her broken moans and sobs go straight to my throbbing erection, not helping me as I swirl my tongue in and out of her, the lewd sounds enough to push me over the edge.

Her hands find their way to my hair again, and this time she pulls my brown locks hard, the pain subsiding into pleasure, and as I hum against her clit, she presses the back of my head impossibly closer to her throbbing pussy.

"Fuck, Matt- I'm close..." She gasps, in between pauses.

I mumble something inaudible in between her thighs, flicking my tongue over her clit at an ungodly pace.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm gonna-" she whimpered, her voice strained with the intensity of her impending release.

But before she finished her sentence, I felt her squirt on my face, and her body arched against my face as I continued to plunge my tongue impossibly deeper into her, helping her riding out the waves of her orgasm.

Slowly, my pace stops, and I reach up to kiss her, savoring the taste of her arousal on my lips. As we pull away, I lick my lips, holding eye contact.

"So, how are you?" I ask, my eyes scanning her body.

"Good," She giggles against my chest, her cheeks flustered. I straddle her, pressing a kiss to her nose as she squirms underneath me.

I look down at my pants then back up at her.

"You really do know how to make me come."

[abibliophobiaa]

Chapter Three: Roommates

summary: eddie proposes you move in with him, and you do — for the baby, duh.

warnings: mentions of morning sickness; brief vomit mention; but other than that 7.2k of fluff.

eddie munson x pregnant!reader || strangers to friends to lovers, unplanned pregnancy, and then they were roommates, forced proximity.

——

masterlist | previous chapter, next chapter

——

Though you anticipated seeing more of Eddie in the upcoming months, you hadn’t expected it quite literally the next day. Chrissy had suggested a ‘family dinner’ that Sunday evening, but Steve ended up meeting a work friend to play some golf, and Melody had been fussing all day. When she had helplessly mentioned she hadn’t been able to go food shopping, you offered to go pick up everything she’d need.

It just so happened to be that when you drove up, Eddie’s van was sitting in front of the house, his head visibly bobbing where it was above the steering wheel, fingers dancing along the steering wheel. Curiosity got the better of you and you pulled into the sprawling driveway beside him, rolling your window down and looking in until he’d realized he had been caught and lowered the dial on his music.

The window beside you rolled down next, his head leaning over the center console so he could ask, “Need help? Backseat is looking a little full there.”

“We’re gonna pretend I didn’t just see you having your own private concert?”

“Please,” he laughed, turning the car off. Before you could even argue with him about the endless grocery bags, he was already out of his vehicle and heading over to your trunk. “Pop the trunk. You’re not meant to be lifting much anyway.”

“How do you know?” You walked up beside him, unlocking the trunk to reveal the endless bags hidden within.

“Steve gave me one of his dad books to prepare,” he said, lifting some of the heavier bags first. You reached in to grab some of the lighter ones, resting them high on your hip. “I stayed up all night reading up through the fourth month.”

“Eddie, that’s crazy.”

“I wanted to be prepared.” He shrugged, walking beside you up to the house. “Did you know that the baby’s eyes are closed right now, but they move around? Kind of cool, maybe a little creepy.”

“Definitely creepy,” you echoed, a little impressed he’d done all of that as you entered the home and Chrissy came stumbling out, now no longer with Melody in hand. “She finally went down?”

“Yes, thank goodness.” She approached Eddie, taking a couple of bags to lighten the weight loaded in his arms. “Just put everything on the island, I’ll take care of putting it all away.”

The second trip to the car proved different. Eddie noticed immediately the giant box of diapers and bag of baby clothes you’d yet to bring downstairs. Paused as he took in the sight of the tiny clothes, thumb running over a colorful onesie that peeked out of the plastic.

“Here,” he said thickly, lifting the box of diapers in one arm and the bag in the other, “I’ll help you bring them downstairs.”

Exhaling deeply, you closed the trunk and led him to the side entrance to the apartment. Robin had gone out with some friends, leaving the place empty. Eddie whistled as he stepped in, kicking his shoes off near the door, still wet from the snow that had fallen the night before.

“Uhm…where are you sleeping?” he asked out loud, taking in the space. “I mean, I’ve been here before. I know Robin has the bedroom, but where is your stuff?”

“I’m on the pullout couch,” you explained, walking him over, snatching a laundry basket on the way.

Waving an arm out to him, he handed over the bag of clothing and dropped down onto the couch beside you, the diapers already laid out on the kitchen table.

“You’re not serious.” He eyed you as you pulled outfit after outfit from the bag.

“I sleep right here,” you said, nonplussed.

“You can’t,” he stated plainly, voice rising.

“I mean…I can,” you retorted, tossing baby socks into the basket to be cleaned, “and I do.”

“Move in with me.”

Now you were convinced he’d absolutely lost it. The man who you procreated with was losing his mind, because there was no way in hell you’d heard him correctly.

“I can’t move in with you, I don’t even know you.”

“Look — I own a home. It’s not huge or anything, but it’s better than sleeping on a couch. There’s a guest bedroom you could stay in and another bedroom we could turn into a nursery. But you can’t stay here.”

“I was saving up for my own place,” you explained, tossing another item into the bin. “This is fine for right now. I can’t come live with you, take up your space, uproot your quiet. That’s silly, Eddie.”

“It’s not silly,” he argued, reaching into the bag and holding one of the little sleepers in his hands. He marveled for a moment and then shook his head, like he’d remembered something. “I told you I wanted to help out. Don’t you think it would be easier if, I don’t know, the baby woke up in the middle of the night and you had someone else there who could take care of things? I want to be able to bond with my kid too, you know?”

In theory, it sounded nice. The thought of having Eddie down the hall to assist with diaper changes seemed like a dream. An opportunity you hadn’t even imagined possible before bumping into him at the supermarket. And yet, the facts remained the same as they were: Eddie was, for all intents and purposes, a stranger.

“Just…think about it?” he asked softly, “please?”

You thought about it. For about five minutes after Eddie returned upstairs to help Steve fix something with his car. Apparently, when he wasn’t working on music, he maintained a job as a mechanic at the nearby car shop.

It just didn’t seem logical — his whole suggestion. Or, rather, you convinced yourself it didn’t.

Robin, however, seemed to be on Eddie’s side in regards to the whole ordeal.

Traitorous by your standards, and only further complicated your already swirling thoughts.

“I mean, you’ll have an extra set of hands. Someone else to help change diapers. Help with midnight feedings,” she rationalized, trailing off with a grin lining her features, “Plus the two of you probably need to learn to get along for the next eighteen years. That’s a long time, babe. Only way to do that is if you spend time together.”

——

Moving day happened the next weekend. It all seemed crazy when you thought about it. But then again, you hadn’t thought much about it. Your friends had sat around a table with Eddie after dinner on ‘family night,’ and Chrissy had the lovely idea to make a pro-con list.

That pro list didn’t lie, you’d give it that much.

Despite the beginnings of this ‘relationship,’ you were going to need to figure out how best to navigate the next couple months and the foreseeable future if both parties wanted to be involved in the most important person’s life in this situation.

Because when all the pieces had been laid out, despite your innate desire to protect and nurture them, this baby did have two parents.

And both deserved a part in their life — you knew that.

So arrangements were made and you agreed to moving in with the man. Settled on the fact that this was the best option for the baby, as you were not at all inclined to think about that man in any way other than friendship.

Especially not when he’d walked in from (conspiratorially) helping Steve work on his car for a couple days in a row while you waited for moving day, feet up on the couch reading a book, noticing his tee shirt covered in grease, hands the same color, hair pulled back into a ponytail.

It was the hormones, that was all. They were the ones betraying your body, not you. Because in the rational part of your mind, relationships failed. You’d seen it more times than you could count. Loved ones going through a divorce, friends falling in and out of love, your own failed relationships. It wasn’t worth it trying to complicate an already tangled web with feelings. Feelings were fleeting anyway.

The butterflies that kicked up whenever Eddie was near? Fleeting. The way you swore your heart skipped that first afternoon when Steve had helped you unload some of your things on moving day and Eddie entered from the bathroom, shirt pulled up to wipe at his sweaty forehead? Fleeting. The way your insides melted when you perused the living room and kitchen as the guys walked back out to your car to bring in the last of your boxes, only to find his What to Expect When You’re Expecting book perched on his coffee table, and a picture you’d given him from a recent ultrasound on his kitchen? Fleeting, with a capital ‘f.’

Eddie’s home itself was adorable. A small, three bedroom, one bathroom, with one level. The interior was a mix of darker furniture and sparse walls. He’d already agreed that you could spruce things up if you wanted to, and you’d immediately made notes that first day he gave you a tour. You loved the place — from the open plan of the kitchen and dining room, to his bedroom full of music memorabilia and Dungeons and Dragons merchandise (that you definitely teased him about), to your bedroom, with its white walls and olive bedding. There was a tan dresser on the far wall, and a floor to ceiling mirror on the back of the door. Simple, for the time being.

He’d brought you to the additional room next, had smiled at you and leaned an elbow up on the doorframe. “I figure a crib can go on that back wall. The closets are pretty decent sized. Maybe a dresser on the left wall, and the changing table over there. You could probably fit a rocking chair next to the crib, too.”

“Eddie…”

He sounded so hopeful. So expectant of what the future held. Smiled to himself like he could imagine his son or daughter in this room and radiated pride with it.

“We can get paint after we find out what it is.” He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. Those dark eyes of his met yours. “I know it’s not the biggest, but I think it’s good for now.”

“It’s perfect,” you said softly, brushing at your eyes with the back of your hands, overwhelmed by the thought that in just a few short months your baby would be here, sleeping in this room in this house. “Damn hormones. I am not crying.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he chuckled, moving back down the hall toward the kitchen. “I’m going to start dinner. How do you feel about grilled cheese since we’ve been unpacking all day?”

Maybe you moaned a bit. And maybe Eddie laughed. And maybe you’d actually stepped into an episode of The Twilight Zone, but you found yourself hopeful. Excited for the future standing before you, and followed him back down the hall with dreams of gooey cheesy goodness on your mind.

——

The first couple of days proved to be an adjustment. On the first night, you padded into the bathroom, eyes still half-closed, bladder full, and screeched as you fell backward and careened into the toilet bowl.

Eddie sprang up out of bed at your terror, nearly crashing down the door, asking, “What happened? Is something wrong? Do we need to go to the hospital?”

“Eddie! Close your eyes, I’m naked!”

“Pretty sure seeing you naked is how we got into this situation.” He clapped a palm over his eyes.

“Do not even go there! You’re on thin ice as it is.”

“Jesus Christ, just tell me what happened, will you?! You scared me half to death.”

“Eddie Munson,” you nearly snarled, snatching a towel from the rack to cover yourself with, “did you leave the toilet seat up?”

“I mean…I may have.”

“Eddie!”

He rubbed at the back of his neck. “To be fair, I did live alone for the past five or so years here.”

“I could have drowned.”

“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think, sweetheart?” His lips tugged upward into a grin that made you want to bash your head backwards against the wall. “And I came to your rescue, didn’t I?”

——

The second day brought long hours at work and a special home cooked dinner when you walked in through the front door. The house smelled amazing, like freshly made sauce and spices, mixed with a candle burning on the coffee table in the living room. You kicked your shoes off at the door and dropped your pocketbook on the ground beside them, shouldering off your jacket and placing it on the coat rack.

Eddie turned around as you entered the kitchen, watching as your hands rubbed up and down the sleeves of your sweater, trying to bring back some warmth into your body. He looked…annoyingly handsome. Feathery curls brushing his shoulders as his head bobbed to the music he had filtering through the radio, dark wash jeans, a thin black sweatshirt. An apron was tied around his waist, sitting low on his hips where his shirt had ridden up just enough to reveal the happy trail you knew slipped beyond his boxers.

Annnd now was not a good time to be thinking about Halloween. Not as you stepped up beside him and asked if he needed any help with anything. “You could grab us some drinks. Maybe grab the cheese from the fridge. I think I have everything else all good to go.”

“So you cook?” you mused, walking over to the refrigerator and grabbing two cans of Coca-Cola and the Parmesan.

“Should you be drinking that?”

“I still have food aversions because of your kid,” you said, pointing down for emphasis, “so I will drink whatever I can keep down at the moment. And right now that sounds like Coca-Cola.”

“Point taken.” He nodded, raising the volume a bit on the radio.

It sounded angry. Something metal, you assumed. Curiosity piqued, you asked, “Is this the kind of music you play? It sounds interesting.”

“Yeah. This one is actually ‘Master of Puppets.’ I learned it in a matter of a couple days back in my senior year of high school. Wayne had gotten me the album since I’d been passing all my classes. Was really nice of him.”

“A couple days?” Your elbows leaned onto the counter beside him, listening to the lyrics about obeying your master, and a master of puppets pulling strings. “That’s really incredible.”

“You could watch us play sometime?” Eddie suggested, dialing down the knob on the radio. “I’d…like for you to meet the guys. They’re also in town. We sometimes play smaller gigs at the Hideout. Kind of where we started, back when we were in high school.”

“That would be really cool,” you said, just as Eddie opened the oven and revealed rows of endless garlic bread.

Normally, you’d be over the moon. Ready to consume said garlic bread by the bucket full. But the scent — oh god, the scent had your stomach churning like waves lashing at the hull of a ship. Had your belly tightening, hand coming up to rest over your mouth as you dry heaved into a palm.

Eddie whirled around with the tray in hand and glanced worriedly at your face, feet carrying him closer as he prattled, “Are you okay?”

You held out your other hand in a silent warning of ‘stay back,’ heaving once more into your palm. “Please.”

He tossed the bread onto the stove top and called out your name, but you’d already rushed down the hall and expelled the contents of your stomach into the toilet, grasping onto the porcelain edges for dear life. A second wave crashed over you and you groaned, forehead dropping down against the wall of the shower, the chilly exterior cooling your clammy skin.

Eddie’s head popped in hesitantly as you lay there, curly hair bouncing about his shoulders as he reached around in the medicine cabinet and tossed one of the ginger candies Chrissy had given you by the bucket full, because while her morning sickness had faded after the start of the second trimester, yours had yet to do so.

“Anything I can do?” he asked, dropping down onto the ground, back against the sink cabinets.

“You’ve done enough,” you grumbled, popping the candy into your mouth with one hand, the other running over your midsection to quell the nausea. “I’m so sorry because I know you probably spent ages working on it, and I’m so grateful, but I need you to throw away the garlic bread.”

“No good?” You shook your head and he grimaced apologetically. “Let me go grab you some water and I’ll make sure to vanquish the evil bread before I come back. I’ll let you know when it’s safe, okay?”

You pressed a hand over your heart, feigning a faint. “My hero.”

He smirked, and you hated that fluttering wings stirred in your belly because of it.

——

The third evening brought with it a conversation as you readied for a night out with your friends. Chrissy and Steve had gotten a babysitter, and the two of you decided to meet up with them for some food and drinks at a local restaurant.

It sounded like a double date, and with your life already complicated enough being nearly eighteen weeks pregnant as February grew closer and closer to a close, you needed to make sure Eddie understood your friendship needed to remain the one stable thing in your life.

Because, for all intents and purposes, that was exactly what the two of you were. Roommates and friends. The kind of people who greeted each other after a day of work, maybe shared a bit about their day, ate at the dinner table together, and drifted off to bed separately.

An endless, platonic sleepover — with someone who you just happened to have previously slept with. But that wasn’t happening again; not even with the increased hormones running rampant in your body, insistent on keeping you on edge at nearly all hours of the day.

Luckily for you, the shower stall provided just the perfect sound barrier and proper channel to take care of such…urges, and Eddie remained none the wiser to it.

You could do this. You were doing this.

You found Eddie that evening adjusting the sleeves of his leather jacket in the living room. He’d gone with dark pants, a red shirt beneath, and that signature black leather jacket that should be a crime to society because of how well fitted it was to his body. His hair hung loose around his shoulders, a sparkly earring you’d never noticed before dangling in his ear as you approached.

“Don’t make fun,” you groused, stepping into the living area, “I need to go shopping, my sweaters are getting tighter now.”

You’d worn simple black boots, a pair of your newer jeans, and a cream knitted sweater that maybe only had a few weeks left of use in it.

“You look great,” he reassured. “You always look beautiful.”

“Thanks.” You glanced down at your feet, a little bashful, nervousness welling. “And hey — thank you for the past couple of days. I know it has to be weird having me here.”

“It’s different, having another person in the house. But it feels right.”

“I’m really happy that we’re doing this whole…friendship and parenting thing,” you continued, watching the corners of his mouth twitch downward just the slightest. “I just think that’s best for the baby.”

“Is that what we’re doing?” he asked, and you swore you could hear the hurt lining his words.

“Sex complicates things. Obviously, we’ve already learned that,” you began, toying with the ring on his middle finger, “so I think we should keep things friendly. It’ll be better in the long run.”

As in, Halloween was to remain a memory and not something revisited.

“Is that what you think?” He sounded doubtful, but you knew he’d respect it without issue. You’d learned that much in the short while of knowing him.

“Yeah.”

Even though you craved him. Chalked it up to human instinct to want to be nearer to the man, but you pushed it into the caverns of your mind. Locked it away in a box, to remain untouched.

“Then we’ll work on being best friends,” he agreed, stepping forward to loop his arms around your shoulder and tug you in close for a friendly hug, “for the baby.”

——

You found out Eddie wasn’t a fan of spinach in his eggs by the fifth day. You had ended up making extra anyway, and since he was kind enough to cook dinner without even asking most nights, you thought you might do the same. He whistled upon entering the kitchen, face growing pale at the plate you smiled gleefully at when you exclaimed ‘I made you breakfast.”

He still ate them despite your countless protests that he absolutely didn’t have to. Poor guy had grinned at you through what looked like terror in his eyes, swallowing each bite with an emphasized hum of forced pleasure. And damn it he didn’t need to look so good like that, freshly crumpled shirt from bed, bicep reaching up to rub at his neck, revealing dark swirling ink on his limbs, hair in a messy bun at the back of his head since he’d end up pulling it back for work anyway.

“Eddie.” You laughed, pulling your chair closer to the table in the kitchen, stabbing at your own eggs. “You really don’t have to eat them. I just figured you’ve been so kind feeding me literally all week, I wanted to help out a bit. Do my own part around the house.”

He shrugged, popping a blueberry in his mouth. “You really don’t have to. I enjoy cooking. Might not be great at it, but I like it.”

“Yeah, but I want to contribute more,” you explained, chewing at a strawberry and swallowing it down with some water. “You’ve given up two rooms in your home. Maybe I can do some of the chores. Dishes after dinner, laundry — I don’t know.”

His mouth twitched at that, dark eyes rising to meet your own. “Deal.”

“Really? I thought I was going to have to grovel. Seeing as you haven’t let me lift a finger in days.”

“I hate laundry,” he stated plainly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, “you drive a hard bargain, Buttercup.”

“Then great, I’ll start now —”

“Sit down,” he chuckled, hand curling around your forearm before you could rise from the table, hip nearly bumping the corner in your hastiness. “Finish your breakfast. And the water. Please.”

A twinkle gleamed in his eye. Something that made butterflies burst low in your belly. “What is your day looking like?”

“I have work till around four, and then I thought I would invite some of the guys over since it’s Friday. If that’s okay?”

“It’s your home.”

“Yeah, but it’s yours too now.”

You shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

“Would you want to meet them? I’ve told them about you,” he said, then glanced down beneath the table, “and you.”

“Yeah, sure.” Your back leaned against the wooden chair, a deep exhale falling from your lips. “Do you want to go food shopping together? Get some drinks and snacks?”

“I’d love to, sweetheart.”

——

Laughter filled the home. Loud and boisterous. A sound that had you beaming from ear to ear, shuffling about the kitchen as you familiarized with where Eddie preferred everything to go. Snacks away in the pantry. Cookies easily accessible in another cabinet in case he ever needed one (you didn’t question it). Placed various paper plates and napkins bought for the evening on the kitchen counter, the plastic utensils in a holder beside them, plastic cups face down nearby.

He made quick work of putting everything else perishable in the fridge, making sure to grab what you’d need for the cookies you decided to make. After perusing the aisles together for what felt like hours, the thought jumped to Eddie’s mind to bake.

A perfect bonding moment, he said, and he was right. There was no arguing about the intimacy of baking with one another. A fact made more prominent as he draped his little apron around his hips and grabbed a giant bowl, some mixing utensils, and a baking pan and placed them down in front of you.

While he did that, you rooted around for the ingredients you needed. Vanilla, flour, brown and white sugar, chocolate chips, eggs, cornstarch, salt and the like. The oven was preheated, the pans slicked, and prepped for baking.

Shoulders pressed together as the two of you worked in tandem. Tossing ingredients into a bowl, taking turns mixing, laughing as you accidentally flicked sugar over the lip of the bowl and a streak of white remained in its wake along Eddie’s abdomen. Tongue dipping out to drag along your bottom lip, you steeled your gaze up above, in the bowl, on the task at hand.

In another bowl, Eddie began mixing the flour, baking soda, and salt. Frantically, he’d done it so frantically, with his smirk you’d grown to love lining those perfectly plush lips. Laughter bursted up from deep within you, flour flicking across Eddie’s cheek at the jolt of the sound, his smile spreading wider as you paused in your own mixing and stepped closer to him.

He stilled on the spot, fingers twitching at his sides as your midsection bumped against the harder lines of his abdomen, palm reaching up toward his face.

At his raised brow, you whispered, “Got a little something…right here.”

A low sweep. Your finger arced in a low sweep against his cheek where flour had painted him a ghostly white. Dark eyes trailed your face, over the lines of your mouth, the fullness of your lips — then flickered up to your eyes, and you heard his breath as it faltered.

Cheeks burning, you whirled away, returning to your bowl. “I got it all. Good as new.”

He leaned in closer, bringing both bowls nearer to one another. “We mix the two now. And then it’s the chocolate chips.”

Watching as he did as explained, you reached across the countertop to grab the chocolate chips. Snipped the top edge off the package when Eddie instructed you to do so, and poured the contents within. Before long, you had a perfectly mixed cookie dough, ripe for baking.

“We’re not so bad at this,” Eddie mused once you began spooning small dollops onto the baking sheets strewn about the countertops. “Granted, it’s not parenting. But the working together thing — I think we’ve got it.”

“It’s baking,” you said, wrinkling your nose at his words.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he agreed, nudging you with his elbow, “but we communicated through every step, and I think that’ll come in handy.”

“If you’re trying to convince me into thinking you’ll be a good father, you don’t have to,” you said, laughing. “I already know you will be.”

He paused beside you, faltering in his movements, and you wondered if you said something wrong. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you promised, understanding from the look on his face, the nervousness in his eyes, the doubt that there was a deeper conversation to be had here. “You know that too, right? That you’ll be a good father.”

Eddie swallowed, mouth settling into a firm line. “I think I’m still trying to accept that this is happening a little bit. It’s only been a week or so. And I guess it’s probably a little different for me —”

“Because you haven’t seen them?” you asked, recalling at your last doctor’s visit he’d only gotten to hear the heartbeat. His only visual was residing on his refrigerator, in the form of a black and white photo he’d not been present for the taking of. “I feel like…it’s also different because I know they’re there. Always. I haven’t really felt them yet. Maybe a little here and there, but I’m not really sure — I just know they’re there. But you’ll get those moments too, you know? You’ll bond with them, Eddie. They’re going to love you.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said softly, a little sadly, placing the baking trays into the oven and setting a timer for the allotted time.

“Hey, Eddie?”

“Yeah?” His head perked up, just as you flicked leftover flour at his shirt. “Oh, so it’s going to be like that, huh?”

“Like what?”

Your tone was teasing, light as Eddie backed you up against the counter, his front against yours, him reaching over your shoulder to grab a handful of sugar from an opened container. Heart hammering at his proximity, you allowed yourself a brief moment to relish in the feeling of his form pressed solidly against yours as he sprinkled the dusty sugar over the crown of your head.

“That’s rude, Edward.”

The man reached over your shoulder again and snatched chocolate morsels in his palm, popping one within his mouth. As your head leaned in, body still against the countertop, he took the hint and pressed two against your lips, grinning as your mouth parted just enough to slip them behind your teeth.

Like this, you could feel his breath against your lips. Could see the dark depths of his eyes, the little honeyed flecks that lay within. The dark swirl of his lashes, the arches of his cheeks, the little freckles you hadn’t even noticed the night he’d worshiped your body over and over again, the curve of his bottom lip, the pillowy nature of the top one.

“I’m really happy you —”

Eddie’s words were cut off by the doorbell ringing. Followed up by a swift knock against wood that had you shifting up and away from the counter. Eddie’s hands were there at your biceps to help steady you as your body swayed with the suddenness of your movement.

“That’ll be your friends,” you stated softly, dusting off the remnants of the sugar from your shoulders. “Introduce me, will you? Little nervous here.”

He rubbed at the soft of your shoulder. “Don’t stress about it. They’re gonna love you.”

——

Charmed.

All of his friends were charmed as soon as you’d walked in, holding a tray of various appetizers on a plate and settling them down on the coffee table, smiling prettily and laughing as one by one they’d introduced themselves.

Commented on how beautiful you were, how they couldn’t believe Eddie had ever had a chance, how you were glowing. And damn it, he’d never thought someone prettier than you looked at that moment. You had the room eating out of your palm in minutes, Jeff insisting you join in on the fun, nearly tugging you down onto the couch cushions beside him.

“Careful,” Gareth laughed, tossing a chip in his mouth, “Eddie’s got eyes on the back of his head these days.”

Eddie glanced over his shoulder to shoot a glare Gareth’s way. Noticed as Murphy slowly shifted on the couch as the night went on, as he leaned over and tapped you on the shoulder. Watched as your mouth softened a bit as he apologized, as the words he spoke rolled over the room. That he’d thought it was a terrible ploy when you’d called, that he didn’t mean anything by it, that he could never forgive himself for what he’d done.

When Eddie had gotten home the night he found out he was to be a father, he’d nearly booked another flight back out to California to demand answers.

Instead, the phone call came late at night, Gareth nearly half asleep when he picked up and Eddie growled down the line that someone had to speak up and fast.

Apparently, Murphy had truly thought it was a joke. A prank. Someone trying to foist off a baby on Eddie, just conveniently on the back end of their band appearing in the news as rising stars to watch, to try and obtain some money or notoriety. He’d been doing it out of ‘protection’ and to some degree he understood because of situations in the past and with other bands they’d seen in the business, but on the other he’d been robbed of time.

Precious time that had hurt you in the end. For two months you’d lived with the hurt and sting of rejection — with the thought he had wanted you to do this alone. That this was your cross and yours alone to bear. He hated that. Resented it because it reminded him of his late mother’s face, of the sadness she bore when his father had finally walked out and left them high and dry.

Murphy had cried, because he hadn’t known. Hadn’t known it was the same girl from the party. The fucker had cried and Eddie wanted to hate him, wanted to yell, wanted to shout because of it all — but he couldn’t. Because he pictured that little profile of a face on that black and white picture he’d tucked away in his coat jacket, he pictured your smiling face, closed his eyes and thought of that damn heartbeat and he knew he couldn’t.

Wayne raised him better. Wayne. When everyone else had walked out on him, his uncle remained.

But then you had to go and crush his heart further by leaning over and folding your hand over his bandmates, before dragging him closer for a tight hug, forgiving him.

It was hard being friends with you, harder living with you, when you just continued to do things like that. Loved those around you deeply, openly, even though you kept him at a distance.

Kept what he represented at a distance.

And he understood. Understood that with him it was different, the stakes were higher, there were other parties involved. It never stopped the wishing, the wanting, the waiting and wondering though. The ‘what ifs’ that kept him up at night, when you’d long since shut your bedside lamp, shrouding your side of the hall in darkness. But he respected your desires to keep things friendly for the sake of the unborn child. Understood that if this was what you thought best, he’d put aside his own feelings for the betterment of yours.

So for now he watched as his friends crowded around you. As they welcomed you with open arms into the band, as Jeff mentioned you should come over and meet his wife, June, and have dinner over their place soon. As Gareth invited you (overriding the fact Eddie was still Dungeon Master) to their next planned night (he wanted to ask you anyway). As Murphy waited on you hand and foot, making sure you never had to get up for the duration of the movie you all ended up watching, there with snacks and water at the ready.

And later, as the guys left and you fell asleep with your head on the armrest of the couch, Eddie tried to squash down the ache that formed in his chest when he rubbed your shoulder and your eyes fluttered open, your mouth rounding into a yawn, before settling on his dark stare.

Tried to suppress the affection that bubbled up as he helped you to your feet with a hand around yours, the furrow of your brow as you tugged a pillow close to your chest, the soft shuffle of your slippers against the carpeted floor as you both walked down the hall to your bedrooms.

“Goodnight,” you muttered with a soft wave.

It was a punch to the gut, the way you smiled at him in the night, the lamplight spilling into the hall shrouding you in a golden halo.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He waved back and you turned in for the night, darkness shrouding your end of the hall.

He remained awake for hours.

——

A few days turned into another week.

You entered your nineteenth of pregnancy, tossed some clothes that no longer fit into a bin in your closet, and made room for newer things.

Life with Eddie became almost natural. An extension of what you’d known before with Robin. You came home every day to a cooked meal or takeout with him, shared about your days, watched movies and read books together, and slipped away at the end of the night. Every night.

He was easy to live with. Mostly cleaned up after himself (except for the hair he’d left to sit on the inside of the shower curtain some days and the numerous pots and pans he left out whenever cooking). But he’d been a perfectly wonderful roommate, and an even more caring friend.

You supposed part of that was the fact that, because you were growing his kid, he wanted to make sure you were both taken care of. Always asking if you needed snacks for the work day, if you’d drank enough water, gotten enough sleep.

Already concerned, and endearingly so.

A hum spilled from your lips. A familiar Madonna tune playing from the shoddy radio Eddie kept in the laundry room, connected to the garage. A laundry basket sat propped on one hip, as your hands reached down into the washing machine to pluck whites from within.

With a wrinkled brow, you held aloft one of Eddie’s white work tees. Now an interesting pink color, tinged like the numerous other shirts and socks strewn within. The further you dug, the more you found. A onesie for the baby, once white, now pink. One of your tank tops. The edges of some of your socks.

The culprit? A red pair of his boxers, tossed deep within the washing machine, the same color of rubies. A huffed breath spilled from you, laundry basket propped up on the drying machine before you slipped back down the hall from where you came and entered the living room.

He lay sprawled out on the couch, watching a movie, a pair of sweatpants hung low on his hips. His top half was covered in a black tee, and over that one of his red plaid shirts, which resembled that same pair of boxers you’d come to reprimand him about, caught up in the disarming sight that was always Eddie Munson.

That increasingly familiar head of dark hair shifted where his head lay propped against a couch cushion. Dark eyes framed by long lashes lifted to meet yours, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he smiled up at you, holding aloft a bag of your favorite wavy potato chips.

He knew you’d been craving them and bought a few bags on the way home from work. Damn him for always knowing. A hand reached into the bag and pulled out a few, mouth watering around the salty goodness before you once again remembered why you’d come out of the laundry room to find him.

“Eddie, dearest.”

“Yes?” He lifted himself up at that, waving you over to settle down beside his hip on the couches. “Why do you have that look in your eye?”

“I get a look in my eye?”

“Yeah, it’s the ‘she’s going to kill someone’ look,” he explained, and it gave you pause, brow arching, “hey, hey. I can see that little wrinkle above your brow — don’t be upset with me now, sweetheart. You don’t do it often but I’ve seen it before. Like the other day when I used the last of the milk for my cereal.”

“Yeah, because you used the last of it on your second bowl when I hadn’t gotten any,” you said, brows furrowing higher on your forehead, “but I wasn’t really mad. I was just hungry — and I, well I — are you trying to say you think I’m mean?”

“Oh no. No no no,” he murmured, gathering your shoulders in his arms, tugging you into an embrace that you definitely didn’t protest. As your face pushed into his chest, you sighed, eyes on the television ahead, that extremely hormonal sadness roiling in your gut. “I know that look too. I don’t want you to be sad and cry over it. I’m only joking. What did I do? Be mad at me instead. Just don’t wanna see you cry; I hate that.”

“Left a pair of red boxers in the washer when I was doing whites,” you grumbled into his warm skin. “All our whites are now pink. Even the little baby clothes.”

He gasped, “Not the little baby clothes!”

“Edd-ie.” A whine spilled from you and he chuckled, the abruptness of his laugh jolting your head. A sniffle shook your form and Eddie hugged you tighter. “Gosh, I’m so backwards. Morning sickness? Supposed to be gone by now for most people, and I still have it. Crying at the drop of a hat in the first trimester? Try the second too. Whoever said this whole thing was beautiful hasn’t met me.”

“Hey now.” Eddie shifted you on his chest, finger tipping your chin up to look at the ridiculously goofy grin he had on. “Don’t be mean to my friend, okay? I happen to think she’s pretty fucking great. And she’s beautiful. Plus she’s making this whole growing a literal human thing look like a walk in the park.”

“You mean it?” Your head wiggled up along his chest, rumpling the fabric of his shirt, stopping at his collarbone.

“There are many things people have called me through the years, but I don’t think liar is one of them,” he said, and the sincerity lacing his tone had you easing against his chest, watching the people move about on the television screen. “Come on now. Grab that blanket and watch the movie with me. We can always get new stuff, don’t stress yourself out over my silly mistake. I’ll take care of it.”

Lifting long enough to grab the blanket in question, you reached over and draped it over both your thighs, head looming above where it had been against his collarbone. Eyes searched his face imploringly and he tucked you back down against him, exhaling deeply as you laid there, warmth seeping into his skin, the comforting weight of you against him welcomed there.

Friends cuddled, right? And you were great friends with Eddie Munson.

“What movie is this anyway?” you asked, reaching over for the VHS box settled near his opposite thigh. “Star Wars? What’s that?”

Eddie tensed. “Are you telling me you’ve never seen these? Am I about to take your Star Wars virginity?”

A giggle bursted free from your lips, hand coming to rest over his sternum, rubbing idly. “I’m kidding.”

“I was going to say we needed to fix that and have a full marathon. My kid is getting fed Star Wars even before they’re born.”

“We could still have a marathon,” you suggested, nuzzling deeper into his skin, body relaxing further. “It’s raining, I’m just doing laundry. Perfect day for it.”

He grinned to himself, ringed fingers coming to rest at the top of your head. “Sounds good to me, sweetheart. Now shh, I hate talking during movies.”

“Oh so he’s one of those. Filing that one away for later,” you teased, wincing as he flashed a glare your way.

But he smiled at you right after, and you didn’t know what to do about the stutter in your pulse that followed shortly behind.

——

[creative-caramel-coffee]

The Spiders Sister - Chapter 4

Summary: Reader goes shopping with Pepper, Wanda and Nat. It ends a bit early though when reader starts to struggle with her senses.

TW: overstimulation, flirting, speeding, domestic fluff (hehe)

Words: 3.8K

A/n I changed the floor layout my bad. Also, I planned like 16 chapters of this fic so far and there will probs be more. Now i’m just worried I’ll end up loosing interest and not finishing it 😭 and I’ve been up since 2am. I slept for two hours 💀

After a dinner of pizza and other takeaway foods Tony had bought, Wanda and you headed back to the floor with Peters room.

Stepping out of the lift Wanda led you to where you had been staying for the past few days while Nat went ahead to your new room put sheets on your bed.

Your room would be on the same floor as Natasha and Wanda’s. It was also where Yelena and Kate stayed when they were in town as well as Carol when she was on earth.

You reached the door and headed into peters room. It didn’t take long to gather your things. You grabbed the backpack with some clothes in it, all of which were dirty by now as well as your tablet, computer and sketching supplies.

Once you had shoved most of it into the bag and had your laptop in your arms you followed wanda back out the door.

Despite your very comprehensive tour of the compound, you still didn’t know where you were going.

Wanda and you got back into the lift and set out for your new room.

The lift was filled with idle chatter as Wanda caught you up on the avengers love lives. Tony and pepper were together while the rest were still living the bachelor life.

Feeling a little bold you decided to ask her.

“What about you?” You asked. “Are you seeing anyone?” You clarified when she shot you a confused look.

“Not currently.” Wanda said studying the rarely used buttons on the lift. Jarvis often did all of that for you.

“Ok cool.” You said before stuttering. “I mean not ‘cool’ but its not uncool” you began rambling only cut off by the angelic sound of Wanda’s giggles.

Your cheeks were rosy as she smiled at you.

“Your cute when your flustered.” She said with a wink just as the doors opened and she stepped out. You were frozen for a second before gathering yourself and following her out half a pace behind.

As you trailed after Wanda down the halls she turned to look over her shoulder at you. “You coming sweetheart?” She asked and you nodded speeding up your steps to walk beside her.

As you rounded another corner she slowed. “This is my room.” Wanda said gesturing to a closed door. “And that’s Nat’s.” She gestured to the door next to hers. “This is your room.” She said walking down to the door halfway between Wanda’s and Natasha’s on the opposite side of the hallway.

The door to your room was open as Nat was sat on your freshly made bed with a grin.

“Wondering when you were getting here.” Natasha smirked making Wanda roll her eyes at her.

You stepped into the room. It was large with a king bed and huge windows that let in natural light, or at least it would if it was daytime. It was past evening now and almost nine pm. The New York skyline was just as beautiful, however.

You set your bag and laptop down on the desk before sitting down next to Natasha on the bed.

The walls were white and grey. There was a big desk near the windows and a bedside table on each side of the bed. A door was off to the side which you assumed led to a bathroom. There was also a second door which must have been a wardrobe. Other than a lamp on the bedside and a Tv mounted on the wall, the room was bare.

“We’ll get thing to decorate when we go shopping tomorrow.” Nat said almost as if she could read your mind. More likely she could read your expression and body language.

“Sounds perfect.” You said with a smile.

“Do you have clothes you can sleep in tonight?” Wanda asked and you shuffled your feet before looking up at her.

“Er… no?” You said.

“Are you asking me or telling me sweetheart?” Wanda asked coyly making a blush rise on your cheeks.

“Telling?” You said still sounding unsure of yourself.

“Very well then. I’m sure Nat and I can find something for you to sleep in for tonight.” Wanda said looking to Nat for her opinion. The widow nodded and you felt yourself relax slightly.

“Thank you guys. I wasn’t looking forward to wearing dirty clothes in a clean bed tonight.’ You said sighing in relief.

“Are all your clothes dirty?” Nat asked eyeing your backpack.

“Yeah.” You huffed.

“We’ll find you something to wear tomorrow as well then, just until we can sort out some new clothes and laundry. Sound good?” Nat asked and you nodded.

“Yes, thank you.” You said.

“No need to thank us darling. Your quite welcome.” Nat purred and you felt yourself resist a shiver as her words danced close to your ear. The hair on the back of your neck swaying slightly under her breath as your skin tingled with the heat of her words.

You swallowed trying to regain your composure much to both women’s amusement.

“T-thanks.” You stuttered.

“Already said that darling.” Wanda chuckled and your blush deepened.

“Your so easy to mess with.” Nat said laughing from beside you.

You just glared at them and went to take the things out of your backpack while Wanda and Natasha left to find some clothes for you in their cupboards.

You had just finished setting down the last of your art supplies on the desk when Nat walked in loosely holding a faded black shield T-shirt that immediately knew was hers from how worn it looked. It also looked to be almost two sizes too big for Nat, so you shot her a questioning look.

She shrugged. “Its comfier to sleep in when its too big, and it kept the other boys I trained with back in the day from being able to stare at my ass.” She said with a wink.

“Whats this about Nat’s ass?” Wanda said walking in with a sly grin as your cheeks heated and you buried your face in your hands with a groan.

You heard the two of them high-five and rolled your eyes.

“Here.” Wanda said and you felt the bed dip beside you.

Wanda was holding out a pair of red track-pants which you took with a smile.

A second later Nat threw the shirt at you with a laugh as it landed on your head. You pulled it off and glared at her.

“You’re a menace.” You declared and Wanda hid a giggle behind her hand.

“Sure thing sweet cheeks.” Nat said rolling her eyes. “Now it’s bed time kiddo.” She said and motioned for wanda to leave as well.

“Im not a kid Romanoff.” You said and she smirked at the use of her last name, having been able to get under your skin successfully.

Wanda cuffed Nat but she ducked and took off down the hall. Wanda rolled her eyes and sighed. “Ignore her, she’s been drinking too much coffee lately.” Wanda said and bid you goodnight before retreating to capture the other redhead and force her to sleep.

You grinned at the shut door like a lovesick puppy before shaking yourself out of it. You changed into the clothes which smelt like them and made you feel safe.

Sliding under the sheets and getting comfy, you listened to the hallways to see if anyone was coming back. When you were met with silence, you reached over your backpack and pulled out a small white stuffed teddy.

Curling up with it under your arm, you buried your face in Nat’s shirt and fell asleep thinking of the two pretty redheads down the hall.

The next morning you were up bright and early. Having slept well for the first time in weeks.

You found your way to the communal kitchen just in time to run into Natasha who was coming back from early morning training in the compound gym.

“Hi Y/n/n.” Nat said smiling as she went to grab a bottle of cold water from the fridge.

“Morning Natty.” You said with a smile.

“You're in a good mood.” Nat said looking amused as she took a big swig from the water bottle in her hands.

“Yep.” You said popping the P.

“Do you know if Wanda’s up?” Nat asked and before you could respond someone else did for you.

“I’m up.” Wanda said entering the kitchen.

“Morning.” You smiled.

“Morning Y/n. Who wants breakfast?” Wanda asked gravitating to the pots and pans in the drawers beside you.

“I’ll have some.” You said with a smile as you took a seat by the counter.

“Put me down for some too, I’m just going to go and have a shower before breakfast then we can head out ok?” Nat said as she refilled the water bottle and put it back in the fridge.

“Sounds good.” Wanda said as she began pulling things out of the fridge.

“Umm… where are we going today?” You asked feeling a little lost. Nat had already taken her leave for a shower so it was just you and wanda now.

“Don’t tell me you forgot?” Wanda said looking amused.

“Forgot … what? … exactly?” You asked.

“The girls shopping trip?” Wanda said.

“Oh yeah!” You exclaimed sitting up a little taller in a way that made Wanda’s heart stutter.

“So… how did you sleep?” Wanda asked.

“I slept well, how ‘bout you?” You asked watching as wanda beat the pancake batter within and inch of its life.

“Good, good. It’s a bit hit and miss some nights but last night wasn’t too bad.” Wanda said vaguely as she turned around the pour the batter into the pan.

After Nat returned and the three of you had eaten what could only be described as the best pancakes known to man, you got ready and headed for the garage.

Pepper was meeting you at the shopping centre a bit later after she sorted out some stark industries meetings this morning.

“You ready?” Wanda said putting an arm around your shoulders. You jumped in surprise making Nat laugh and Wanda frown.

“Too busy daydreaming there, Parker?” Nat asked with a grin, and you glared at her.

“No, just planning your murder.” You said with a wink before blow if her a kiss that made Nat roll her eyes at you.

“Alright, enough you two.” Wanda said giving you a small shove before punching Nat in the arm.

“Get in.” Nat said opening a door for you to the backseat and waving her hand toward the car's interior.

“This feels personal.” You grumbled as the two redheads took the front seat.

“It is.” Nat grinned as the engine hummed to life. You were taking one of Tonys’ many fancy, and very expensive cars. Nat’s favourite was the Bugatti La Voiture Noire, but it was only two seats, so you were left with the choice of a Mercedes Mayback or a Ford Mustang both of which had four seats.

In the end Nat had opted for the mustang and the three of you had piled in to head off.

With Nat driving you must have arrived in record time; it was no secret the redheaded assassin was a speed demon and Tony had begun framing her speeding tickets in the garage on the wall. The government always came to her aid if the police ever tried to take her license as it was argued she needed it to quote “save New York”

Of course, you hadn’t known this before hand and had let out a small scream as Nat took off at breakneck speed out of the garage.

One very fast car trip later the three of you were stood by the door the mall waiting for pepper to join you.

It had barely been five minutes before the last redhead showed up. Pepper was actually on time; Nat’s driving had just made you all early.

As pepper walked over Nat decided to tease her a little.

“Picking up on Tony’s habits there, pep?” Nat asked.

“Oh please.” Pepper rolled her eyes. “I’m the only reason he’s even at any of his meetings at all. Without me he wouldn’t just be late, he’d be missing.” She said and Nat laughed.

“True.” The assassin nodded.

“Alright, lets do this.” Pepper said smiling at you and Wanda.

The four of you headed into the mall. It was a little crowded but nobody seemed to mind. You just crossed your fingers that your spider senses stayed in check.

Pepper had barely made it ten feet in the door before she was dragging Natasha into a very expensive looking boutique.

This was how you spent the next hour. Pepper and Wanda dragged you and Natasha around, stopping at every pretty dress shop and expensive looking store in the complex.

After about an hour you were beginning to nurse a small headache and the tingle in the back of your mind told you all you needed to know for what was going to happen.

Nat had just stopped at a rack nearby before pulling wanda over to her. Holding out a dress you saw Wanda’s lips moving as she nodded, and Nat took the dress and disappeared into the change rooms.

It was a tight red cocktail dress and when Nat came back out to show it off you swear your jaw unhinged and landed on the floor.

It hugged her in all the right places.

Wanda was too busy ogling Nat to notice your reaction but pepper snorted a laugh before covering her mouth.

Nat pouted.

“What? Does it not look good?” Nat asked and you shot pepper a pleading look but she just smiled.

“No … no. I’d just say its … jaw dropping.” Pepper said winking at you as you glared at her with flushed cheeks.

“Yeah?” Nat asked raising an eyebrow and shooting you a look. “Then I guess I’ll have to get it then won’t i?” Nat said and you nodded eagerly. “Your lucky your cute Detka.” She said as she brushed past you on her way back to the change room. “Because your drooling.” She whispered in your ear and your blush darkened a good two shades of crimson.

Your headache was still getting worse and about a half hour later it was almost reaching full force.

You had found a dress and Nat was carrying four bags, one with a dress for you and her and the other three had a few random pieces of clothing for your day to day wardrobe and some room décor.

Just as you were beginning to think you wouldn’t be able to take anymore Wanda suggested the four of you get lunch from the café downstairs.

By now you were surprised none of them had noticed your discomfort, despite trying to hide it it was still bothering you.

The fluorescent strip lights that lit the mall were too bright and seemed to be burning your retinas with each blink.

The noise level despite not exceeding regular mall noise levels was almost deafening in your sensitive ears.

Even the mixed smells of fast food and perfumes was making your head swim.

Your headache pounded behind your eyes as well as almost throughout your full skull. There was a buzzing in your ears that sounded like the electricity in the walls that simply wouldn’t shut up.

Your stomach was rolling from the mixed smells and it was just too loud and too bright.

As you slid into the booth next to Nat, with wanda and pepper on the other side facing you, you resisted the urge to crawl under the table and cry.

Your headache thundered in your ears and pounded on your skull.

Your headache was in full force and Pepper must have noticed how quiet you were being as she looked you over with a knowing gaze.

She took note of your pinched brow and slightly sweaty forehead, how you were biting down on your lip and squinting. As well as how you flinched as someone in the café banged their cutlery against their plate.

Wanda noticed peppers look and was now looking at you too with a frown which drew Natasha’s eyes to you as well.

The conversation had reached a lull as all three women studied you. You were too zoned out to notice their attention all being on you.

“Y/n?” Wanda asked slowly.

“Yeah?” You said looking up and sounding absolutely wreaked.

“Are you ok?” Wanda said looking slightly worried.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” You said not even believing your own words. Your voice was lathered in a tired tone. You shook your head while saying this only managing to anger your headache more as you winced and brought a hand to your head, squeezing your eyes shut tight.

Feeling nauseous you leant on nat and rested you head on her shoulder. Nat seemed almost surprised at your sudden desire for contact.

She held you close to her as your body relaxed into her side having no more energy to hold yourself up.

“Y/n?” Pepper asked softly.

“Mmm?” You hummed as you vaguely heard shuffling before you sensed someone close to you.

Opening an eye slightly you saw pepper crouching next to you.

“Y/n?” she asked softly. “Do you get the same thing peter does honey?” Her voice stayed low and quiet. You turned your face into Nat’s neck and weighed up your options before giving a small nod.

You miss the frown that adorns Wanda’s lips at the news that something was wrong and pepper seemed to know what it was despite you never having mentioned anything about this.

Pepper stood again and looked over at Nat and Wanda.

“She’ll be alright. Just stay here and I’ll be back. I’ll explain in a minute.” Pepper said and she took off in a brisk walk to a nearby shop.

After pepper had darted off she wove through the crowd and into a tech store, making a purchase before making one more stop and then hightailing it back to the café.

When she returned you’s seemingly not moved an inch while Wanda and Nat were talking in hushed tones. Nat had her arm around you and was holdin the back of your head into her neck as you seemed to be almost trembling from all the overstimulation.

When pepper came back Wanda sat a little straighter while Nat eyes the two new shopping bags pepper was carrying.

Pepper came to crouch beside you giving you a small nudge that set your skin on fire.

“Y/n?” She asked softly. “Can you look at me honey, you can keep your eyes shut, I promise these will help.” She said coaxing you out of Nat’s neck.

You faced her with your eyes squeezed shut as she slid a black pair of noise cancelling headphones over your ears and switching them on.

The blissful sound of quiet almost made you cry as your headache lessened. A moment later you felt pepper place something on your face before cautiously opening one eye to find the world dimmer and more tolerable.

Now decked out with the headphones and sunglasses you felt a lot better. You were exhausted and the headache was still present just less intense.

You watched as Wanda, Nat and Pepper conversed, the sound not reaching you. Pepper seemed to be explaining what was happening to them based off the sad look wanda gave you.

Pepper explained that your powers increased your senses, and that in the right conditions they were very helpful in fights. But were more than problematic in a domestic setting. She explained that it wasn’t unheard of for peter to get overstimulated when out or somewhere loud. She went on to tell them she recognised the look peter had when he tried to simple tough it out when they went out.

Wanda felt awful that your powers had caused you pain.

Nat however was already planning to talk to tony about getting something built to help.

Once pepper had explained the extent of the issue and some of the things that helped, the three seemed to change gears, looking to be making plans now instead.

After they had finished talking Pepper decided to try something.

She turned to face you and moved her hands to form some simple signs. Your face lit up in recognition.

*How are you feeling? * Pepper signed.

*tired* you signed back.

Nat and Wanda looked surprised.

“How did you know she knew sign?” Wanda asked.

“Peter seemed to know some when he first was with us.” Pepper explained. “I assumed Y/n might also know some if peter did.”

You could tell what they had asked. “My dad was hard of hearing. He taught us sign at a young age before … he died.” You said and pepper nodded.

*We are going to go home* pepper signed but you shook your head.

*you stay here, I’ll go. I don’t want to ruin things* you signed.

*nonsense* pepper signed and you knew based off Nat’s eyes she was following along.

Nat had learnt sign language from Clint in the academy when they were partners. Clint had insisted in case his hearing aid were ever damaged in a fight.

You sighed realising you weren’t going to win this one.

*ok* you signed and hesitated for a moment before continuing. *thank you*. You signed.

*your welcome* pepper signed back and Wanda offered her hand to you.

Holding Wanda’s hand, the four of you headed for the car park.

You felt bad for ruining the trip, but Nat shot you a look when she saw you getting lost in your head that banished all thoughts.

Once you were in the car, Wanda had insisted on driving. Nat was riding with pepper to try and find out more about what was going on. You kept the headphones and sunnies on the whole ride home as you zoned out slightly.

Wanda droves slowly so she didn’t throw you around while Pepper and Nat sped back to try and organise things for when you get back.

When you arrived, you were almost asleep leaning into the passenger door.

Wanda coaxed you out of the car and led you by the hand up the lift and down the hall to her room.

You were beyond exhausted as Wanda lifted the sheets and got you settled under the thick comforter.

She ordered Jarvis to dim the lights and soundproof the room. She thanked Tony for the added features in her mind as she felt you snuggle into her side.

A few moments later the door opened slightly to reveal Nat and Pepper peaking in.

“Is she asleep?” Nat asked and Wanda studied your breathing.

“Not yet.” Wanda responded.

“Well we have some pain meds for her.” Pepper said as they both came inside and handed wanda a glass of water.

After coaxing you into taking some medicine, you laid back down against Wanda was was massaging your head as you melted in her lap.

Pepper and Nat had dropped by Bruces lab to pick up peters pain meds for you before coming to Wanda’s room where Jarvis said they could find you.

You fell asleep not long after taking the medicine which had finally gotten rid of your headache.

PART 5