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runningupthatvecna · 2 months ago

Text

get the peach(es)

bestfriend!eddie munson x reader

it's the day after chrissy got vecna'd and you and the gang decide to check up on eddie at rick's. he's still in so much distress that you can't help but selflessly stay with your best friend (who you've been harboring a crush on for quite some time) and keep him company. 6k words, not proofread.

cw: the good old friends to lovers trope, eddie is an anxious bean who just needs to be held (by you, ideally), mutual (and not so secret at all) pining, i wrote this with fem!reader in mind (she/her pronouns) but can also be read as gn i guess, fluff, hurt/comfort (for eddie), pet names, mentions of chrissy's death, there shall be kisses and a lot of softness. nothing too explicit but minors are still advised to LEAVE

a/n: totally not self indulgent, that scene of him being so terrified in 4x02 ripped me to shreds so this is my fix-it attempt, trying to still my need to hold him and scratch his head. disclaimer: this piece of writing is based on the ending of that episode, meaning all credits for the setting go to the respective writers. sources to the header images here, here and here. lovely divider by saradika. ok thank you so much for reading byeeee love y'all <3

–––––

The overwhelming need to befriend the satanic metalhead found you at that party at the Wheeler house. You had almost said no to Nancy when she invited you, knowing damn well how the night would end. Steve passed out with a girl on his lap, Robin silently pining after Vickie from some corner of the room while clinging onto the red plastic cup in her hand, Jonathan getting higher than a kite with his old school mates, the younger kids asking you every five minutes if you could give them a ride since you usually were the one staying sober.

Additionally this time, there would be Eddie Munson. This familiar stranger Dustin, Mike and Lucas had met and somehow befriended over the last months, due to them joining his DnD club. "He might come off as a bit intimidating ... but I promise he's super chill and easy going!", Mike had tried to convince his sister, poking the tip of her shoulder repeatedly with a bunch of pleases during lunch break in the editing room of the school's newspaper. Until she rolled her eyes theatrically and agreed to let the ambiguous stranger, which the whole town collectively perceived as not really fitting in (and who you both certainly knew under the not so chill reputation he carried around), attend the celebratory events at Casa Wheeler. Occasion: Karen, Ted and their youngest leaving the house for more than one day, off on vacation.

You'd always kinda stayed out of his ways, used to observe his antics back at school with a silent laugh and this .. intrigue poking at your guts. To you he always stood out, and if anyone asked you'd be hesitant to admit it, but his willingness to go against the flow and not conform to the acceptable standards set by society was honestly impressive. And besides, surely this whole mysterious drug dealer rockstar image must just be a fassade and deep down he's just a dork, right?

His eyes follow you through the living room, an echo of your name crossing his mind repeatedly after having pulled Dustin into a corner for a brief interrogation. He finds it endearing how quickly and almost bashfully you look away every time your curious gaze meets his. As you redirect your focus to the conversation you're becoming engaged in, there's a soft smile creeping onto your lips. Little did he know it would soon start to haunt him in his dreams at night.

"Anything specific you're looking for?"

God, his voice. The close proximity invites your nose to inhale a mix of fresh cigarette smoke, bergamot and sandalwood, allowing you to sense what can only be him standing behind you as you skim through the cabinets of the Wheeler kitchen. You turn your head for your eyes to confirm your assumption and what they find is the deepest brown of round baby cow eyes they've ever met, up so much closer now. The paring of his gaze and plush smile somehow manages to dissolve every little prejudice you've been involuntarily harboring about him. Eddie Munson, the town's freak. Prime reason for the existence of the satanic panic. Drugs. And then you realise that you should probably do the polite thing and give him an answer. "Yeah uh, I was just trying to find the peach syrup", holding his gaze with a small lopsided smile, lost in its warmth which you wouldn't have dared to expect from it, before facing away from him again. He snorts a little, "peach syrup?", pauses to bring a thumb to his upper lip, lightly scratching the skin above as if to wipe something away, before he removes it again and the dimples appear around the corners of his mouth, "that is oddly specific." His response spreads a smile over your face, and the next thing he says widens it, "looks like you have taste though."

You move one step to the side, about to investigate the insides of the next cabinet, the kitchen itself almost empty of people with only three others chatting away in the corner across the island. He follows, undoubtedly trying to stay close, and the heat from the fire he just ignited somewhere inside of you rises to your cheeks. "Thanks, I really like peaches. Especially in my drinks. It adds a little ... kick to my sobriety", you explain, Eddie now quirks an amused eyebrow paired with a lopsided smile at you, and as you get to the last cabinet it dawns on you (and also Eddie) that this household severely lacks peach syrup. An atrocity. Thanks Ted.

After he helped you rummage through the entirety of the kitchen without success but under a lot of small talk, the metalhead vanishes from the function for an hour or so. At least that's what your brain concludes when your vision fails to spot him among the people who are in attendance. Maybe he's selling out of Nancy's bedroom. Maybe he's puking up his insides in the bathroom because he had too much of that weird beer he's been downing all night. Maybe he's banging some random girl in the bathroom upstairs. Or summoning a demon. Or both. At the same time. You once again try focusing your attention back to the conversation you are involved in. Munson already feels so dear to you that the lack of his presence is starting to form an ache in your heart. It's tugging on those strings with how much you already want him near you. Yeah. You're gonna be in trouble with this one.

And then he stumbles into the room from the direction of the front door, an event you're totally unable (and unwilling) to miss. He doesn't look like he just puked, nor sold a whole lot of the stash since you notice it still bulging out the left ass pocket of his black jeans. Instead, as he pushes past the small groups of people socialising – and towards you – while you notice a red net of round fruits dangling from his right hand, and you start to think that his disheveled hair and that rosy tint on his cheeks might actually not be from shagging either. He meets your gaze again as he approaches you with a grin and your heart dares to swell at his attentive gesture (you think you might as well pass away on the spot).

"Have some, peach."

It's not syrup, but you'll take them anyway. And with your next drink, you swallow down not only that peachy sweetness on your tongue, but also whatever this tingly feeling in your chest is.

"Chchhrhch.."

Pause.

"Hey, uh– chrhchhr.."

Silence in your bedroom, the only thing illuminating the space is the moonlight softly falling through the window.

"Chrch– a-are you there?"

You stirr awake from dozing off in your bed, trying to piece together the information your senses are giving you.

Eyes gone dry, you have to blink a few times. Figure out which year it is and so on.

Confusion lies between the static crackle for a moment. That nap after your shift at the diner was necessary. God, you need to fucking quit.

"No I'm sure she'll pick right up, just– hey pleeease b-be awake, goddamn it!–"

Is it already past midnight?

You don't know and you can't tell, the clock on your nightstand still broken. What you do know though is that the familiar voice belongs to your friend Dustin and it's desperately trying to get ahold of you.

They must have found him.

"Dustin? I copy, where are you? What's going on?", you finally grab the device from the nightstand, fully awake and aware of your surroundings now.

You need to know. If he's okay.

There's that all too familiar instant tingle in your chest again, an ache that made itself familiar to you for the first time when he was introduced to you at the one and only Wheeler party several months ago. The dungeon master of Hawkins High's Hellfire club, the lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin and a super chill and easy going guy, to put it in Mike Wheeler's words.

What you didn't expect back then was your heart starting to develop that feeling, that tingle you'd always get to feel when you were in his presence, or like now, when his name is threatening to spill from your friend's lips on the other side of the connection at any moment.

"Aha! See? I told you she'd respond in no time."

You can practically feel Dustin's shit eating grin through the frequency, basking in being correct over Steve Harrington once again. It never gets old between these two.

"Oh my god", Steve's muffled voice is what you can make out vaguely from the off, he's probably palming his face.

"Dustin!", your voice disappears into the device, and your impatience grows with every passing second, hoping he gets the hint.

There's the sound of a door falling shut, leaves rustling under shoes, he must be outside now.

"Alright, okay yeah, so we found him at Rick's and he's really upset and he's been asking for you. I know it's late but can you meet us out here? And maybe, uh, stay with him?"

It's not even worth questioning. You're already wearing shoes. Your biggest hoodie in tow, you stumble into your kitchen with the intention to raid your own snack drawer. Pulling out Eddie's favourite, which you of course had stocked up on ever since hanging out with him at your place had become more of a weekly routine for the both of you.

Ten minutes, you told him. You'd be there in ten.

The drive feels like forever. The longest ten minutes of your life, you think.

You know the route like the back of your hand, having driven along the gravelly road leading from the last intersection before Hawkins' border to the outer world, to the serene woods surrounding Lover's Lake countless times. Eddie would take you here ever so often, for picnics, an occasional smoke after picking up a new delivery from Rick's, cloud or star gazing, listening to Metallica and Tears for Fears on Wayne's old walkman.

The gravel crunches underneath your white reeboks as they land on the ground. You close the door to your car as quietly as possible after you've taken out the bag and your hoodie.

Dustin and Steve are stood outside the boathouse, waving like madmen in the darkness once you come into their periphery.

The younger boy hugs you tightly.

"So glad you could make it", he gets out, the relief palpable through his voice as well as the grip he holds you in for a brief moment.

You look at them both after Steve presses you against him cordially, and breathe out through your nose, making your nostrils flare.

Dustin cracks open the case to you as he starts to ramble about the state in which they found your best friend, "well first he attacked Steve with a broken bottle, we had to put in great effort to convince him that we'd be on his side, and we came to the conclusion that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, basically."

What you want right now goes without saying. Everyone here knows how close you and Eddie are. As friends, of course. No one would think anything different.

Without wasting another second, the boys lead you inside where Max and Robin are knelt on the wooden floor. Heads turning towards the entrance of the room where you're now standing.

The sight of what's offered to your eyes, sitting opposite of them, breaks your heart.

You can see that he's slightly shivering, eyes glassy in the dim lit room. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips though once his brain grasps your presence, and he can't help anymore but let the water fall once his eyes lock with yours.

The pain that is swimming in those two deep warm brown oceans hits you like a dagger to the chest. Over the months of being friends with him you'd seen him various different states, none of them comparable to this.

"Peach", his shaky voice announces your arrival and the sound of your nickname spilling from his lips cracks through your bones. The bag that's slung around your shoulder drops onto the wood with a dull thud.

Wobbly legs carry him towards you with a gentle shove past Robin and Max. You're once again reminded of your best friend's sheer physical strength as he wraps his arms around you, instantly burying his face into the crook of your neck.

One arm of your own sneaks around his torso, pressing him against you as tightly as your own strength allows you, while your other hand comes up to bury itself underneath the mane and to end up scratching soothingly over the scalp above the nape of his neck.

Eddie lets out a muffled sob, sniffling into the collar of the sweatshirt you threw on in a haste. He doesn't really want anyone to see him like this, certainly not Steve Harrington, so he clutches onto you so tightly that he thinks you might just feel his heavy heart beating anxiously against your chest.

And you do. How could you not with the amount of world he means to you? Like an automatism your other hand rubs slow circles over his back. Comforting him in the best way you could. Not a conscious decision you make.

"Okay so, m'not meaning to ruin the party, in fact I'd love to stay for another round of doom talk, but I really should get home soon, guys", Robin scratches the back of her head after she gets up from her huddled position next to the wooden crate Eddie had been sitting on. Max joins in and agrees, mumbling something about having to move her mom from being passed out on the couch again into her bed.

"Yeah me too, actually. My dad's gonna be fucking pissed. We'll see you tomorrow, yeah?", Steve's voice echoes through the room and you can tell he's already shoved Dustin back outside, itching to drive the kid home.

As Eddie processes having to stay in hiding, added the possibility of everyone leaving without him, his grip on you tightens even more.

"It's okay, Eds", you speak softly, head slightly tilted so your cheek rests on the dark frizzy mop you could call his hair. The skin on his neck and scalp so warm underneath your fingertips as you keep scratching it, emphasizing your presence, "I'll stay."

A soft muffled whimper is what you get as a response, and the way he lets you see him in this state melts your insides to a puddle.

You just need him to be okay.

They wave their goodbyes behind your back, accompanied by mumbles of "see you in the morning", and you can't even bring yourself to turn your head around, fully focused on making the young man in your arms less terrified of the world. A world he was sure was now going to come for him with all its force – in deep conviction of him being responsible for Chrissy's misfortunate end.

The door falls shut and Eddie muffles a quiet thank you into the fabric of your sweatshirt. The skin on your neck is damp with his tears, wet eyelashes tickling every time he blinks.

"It's okay, Eds", you softly keep repeating your words to him while continuously rubbing over the denim of his signature Dio vest in a slow motion, when he feels the urgency to claim the truth into the collar of your sweater about what has happened, "I– I didn't do it, I swear."

As if you would need any convincing.

"Oh no of course you didn't, I know that", you're looking for a way to ease the distress this entire situation is causing him, his quivering voice adding to your desire to soothe him to inner peace, "can I make a suggestion?"

Eddie nods with another sniffle against your collarbone, the round wet tip of his nose brushing against the column of your throat lightly. To his ears, your voice sounds like silk right about now.

"How about we head over to the main house and get ourselves a little more comfortable? Since we're gonna be here for a little longer? My god you probably haven't slept or eaten at all, have you?"

You can feel him nod his head again with a hum this time, and you start to think that the tears might not just be pouring because he just witnessed someone suffer a gruesome death right in front of him, but also due to physical exhaustion.

It makes your heart ache even more, that tingle still present, even more so now. It hurts to see your best friend hurt.

He just needs to be okay. And in that heart of yours there's that little spark of hope that leads you to believe you could be the one helping him with that.

You'd really want that. Be all his to find comfort in, to hold close, to kiss stupid

Stop.

A sigh escapes your lungs at the thought. That tingle, that longing, it's selfish. It familiarly pools in your belly and slowly drips downwards. You push your brain aside. This is about soothing your best friend now.

"C'mon then", you utter softly, encouraging him with your hand to lift his head from where it leans against your shoulder.

For your heart it's almost too much to look at, the hurt still swimming in the glassy big brown irises, his waterline red and puffy. The soft smile returning to his lips causes the wet apples of his cheeks to push up slightly, reflecting the dim light coming from the one torch Robin left you, placed on one of the crates.

He really hadn't been able to close an eye for a single second since he he'd gotten up for school the day prior.

You smile back at him almost bashfully as you slowly create space between your bodies.

Eddie is grateful that it's you who grabs his ringed hand next.

He squeezes yours, hoping to get the message of this meaning something to him across.

And he closely trails behind you as you lead the way.

The house feels empty, like no one's really been here in months. You'd never been inside. The few times you'd accompanied Eddie grabbing stash you'd stayed in his van, waiting. But as far as you now can make out in the darkness, there's a couch with knitted blankets, a little TV with a whole stack of VHS almost rising as high as the screen itself, spilled and spluttered empty cans and papers and wrappings littered all around. Maybe this is why he never let you come inside with him. Keeping you out of this definitely not sterile mess. Along with keeping you out of the business.

In the middle of the living room, you let go of his hand and shuffle one step away from him. He's inside now. Safe. Job done. Doesn't need physical contact. You shouldn't, he's your friend. You feel like something between you would break if you'd go there.

Eddie thinks otherwise, regarding close proximity at least. He promptly follows you into what you believe to be the kitchen where you hope you might find a tea bag or two. He comes up behind you and encases you in his arms as you rummage through the cabinets (feels familiar, hm?), not at all ready to say goodbye to the warmth of your body pressed against his own just yet.

You giggle at the silliness of him putting weight on you just to make it harder for you to reach into the cabinets. It's endearing. And very Eddie.

Twenty minutes later and there's two mugs – cleaned to your best ability – with steaming hot liquid on the sixties wooden coffee table. Next to them a plate filled with the almost equally hot insides of a ravioli in tomato sauce can. Thank Rick for a still functioning microwave.

You drape the knitted blankets over both you and Eddie as you settle into the cushions. The only light existent coming from two lit candles on said coffee table. It wouldn't be too wise setting up the torch you think.

The side of Eddie's face glows in the orange yellow, his wide brown bambi eyes dried after the first grand storm, and there's this tug on the corner of his pink plush lips again. He exchanged his leather jacket for the freshly washed hoodie for comfort and a small part of you hopes he doesn't spill his dinner onto any of it.

You lean back into the backrest of the worn out couch and watch as he eats, a domestic thing you've done a thousand times already, yet you still find comfort in knowing that he's nourishing himself.

Or well, in this case, inhaling the raviolis.

"Thank you Peach", he moves to put the empty plate back on the coffee table and it makes the spoon chink and glide along the edge, "I really needed this."

His voice is a little hoarse, probably from the emotions of the hours behind him. Maybe he has indeed calmed down a little. His hand moves down to your thigh, squeezing.

You give him the most empathetic smile you can bring yourself to display, painfully aware of the blaze that is transpiring through your leggings and seeping into your bones, "it's no big deal, really. I mean it is– uh, being there for you, is."

And he can't bring himself to look up at you. Instead, he stares at the empty plate on that coffee table in front of him.

"And to me as well. It really helps that you're here."

He doesn't bother moving the calloused warmth of his hand from the soft warmth of your thigh. It lights your entire nervous system on fire. In a good way.

And that's when you begin to wonder if everything that has just happened and is still happening right now changes anything.

"I'm so glad it does", is all you're able to get out.

Eddie decides that it's time to lean into your side and wrap his arms around your torso once again, drop his head back to its favourite place with a soft content little hum.

He just needs physical comfort. Of course. Just that. Nothing more, nothing else.

The words are redundant but your mouth articulates them anyway, "try to get some sleep, yeah?"

His back already lifts and falls evenly. You place your hand on the back of his head that rests in the crook of your neck again, scratching through the curls lightly, searching to help him shut off even deeper.

–––––

The candles have gone out by the time your eyelids slowly open. It takes you a moment to recall the location you fell asleep in, and you hope that the nightly darkness the whole room is now filled with hasn't invited any stranger to take advantage of your unconsciousness.

There's a warm hand holding your face, the pad of a thumb tracing over the apple of your cheek softly. It makes its way from the bridge of your nose to the outer corner of your eye, and back. And forth. And back. And forth.

You must have moved to lie down on your back in your sleep, with Eddie's weight still on your body, legs entangled. It's not the first time you've slept like this, there had been movie nights that had ended similarly.

His hand caressing your cheek though, yeah that is new. There's something unspoken in the air this time around. Your stomach is doing flip flops when you realise that he is propped up on his elbow, just .. looking at you. With eyes that don't require light to hint at whatever it is he is trying to say, or maybe not trying at all.

"Eds, what are you doing?", you ask almost in a whisper followed by a lopsided smile, expecting an unserious answer, because he always tends to make a joke whenever he tries to avoid conversing about emotions regarding his heart.

His thumb stops its acrobatics on your cheek, comes to a halt.

"I'm–", he takes a deep breath before he continues, "I'm just so grateful it's you that's here right now."

Your hand comes up to cup his. Brush over his rough knuckles with a thumb of your own. Enjoying the warmth that is seeping from his palm into your skin.

"Yeah, I figured you were gonna be a little opposed to spending the night with Harrington", you laugh, an attempt to turn your nerves into humour.

Eddie snorts a little, "yeah right, it's almost like you know me", he grins and pushes himself even closer to your face than he already is. It doesn't necessarily help in extinguishing the fire that's consuming you whole at this point.

"It's almost like we're best friends and I know what you think of him because every time Dustin or literally anyone else mentions his name around you, you're not necessarily secretive about it."

"Hey, my own worldview is not my fault, it's just– ... he just kinda seems like a douche of the highest order."

"He's quite alright, Eds. Try giving him a chance, I think he'd look great as Coffin's tambourinist."

He snorts again and you feel his breath on the column of your neck next when he dips his head down, nose pressing against the soft skin, his small giggle being swallowed by the collar of your sweatshirt.

Your favourite sound. Ever. Followed by the relieved moan Eddie lets out at the way your other hand is softly rubbing over his shoulder blade. The vibration against your neck makes you twitch as much as being pinned into the couch cushions by his body allows you.

It's soothing as much for you as it is for him.

When he lifts his head, the soft gaze he eyes you with is enough to let the goosebumps erupt. Even in the darkness of the room you can still make out those round buttons that could melt the entire north pole.

"Thank you, Peach, really. I'd be goin' mental right now and probably tryin' to counter that by smoking an equally mental amount of the stash I've been hiding here."

Your heart aches.

"I'm just glad I can be that kind of comfort to you, Eds. You don't have to go through whatever the fuck this is alone."

"I know I'm never gonna be alone as long as you are there."

You almost cry yourself now, his words making your hand travel from his own to his cheek, almost passing out from the way his eyes bore into your own once again.

Eddie isn't sure what it is that is making him feel lightheaded right now. The whole rollercoaster of events of the past hours. Or your words of affirmation. Or mayhaps it is your cute soft hand with that little ring on your thumb which is gently swiping over his damp skin.

That cute soft hand he'd been imagining countless times at night, silently yearning for your eyes to look at him differently, to finally see him in a different light the next time you'd hang out.

Probably a combination of just everything.

You reciprocate his soft half-lidded gaze, hand moving from his cheek to tuck some of his hair behind his left ear, revealing that delicate silver hoop earring you'd gifted to him for his birthday, after having talked your ear off about getting his ear pierced for literal months.

He'd insisted you join him for the appointment, "another metal moment for the books", as Eddie had called it, the need to have his hand held during the stab comically urgent in the way his voice sounded when he called you that day. And in the pace in which he picked you up.

"I'm here no matter what", you respond to his sentiment, that hand that brushed his hair away resting on the side of his neck while leaning the weight of your head into his palm that is still attached to your cheek.

Eddie's confidence reaches a new all time high with the admission of your unconditional support being stirred into the cocktail of hormones and emotions that's been circulating in his bloodstream for a generous amount of time now.

Because then he goes on by saying impossible things.

Impossible things with a slightly less platonic undertone.

"You're so fucking sweet, has anyone ever told you?"

You smile as you shake your head, heat rising to your cheeks once again and you're sure he won't be able to see just how flustered he's getting you (joke's on you he does).

You're also sure he's out of his mind for saying that. Now.

"A shame, honestly. You should scold your best friend for not telling you sooner. Tell him what a fucking idiot he is."

Eddie earns another giggle from you. Music to his ears. Better than Metallica. Okay maybe not but .. pretty fucking close.

"I'll let him know next time I see him", you say with a grin, playing along with pleasure, and you ask yourself why it is only now that you realise just how fucking close his face is to yours.

There is a moment of silence in which Eddie hesitates articulating whatever is seemingly bugging his mind.

"Do you, uh, still like him?"

If you lifted your head just a little your noses would be touching. A silly and utmost redundant question, and yet, Eddie dreads your answer. If the circumstances were different, less dystopian and tragic, you'd seriously wonder what would spark the doubt in your friendship in him, but considering that everyone else would be going to pour their judgement over him, you understand.

Every word exchanged between the two of you at this hour is soaked in mutual infatuation, something the idiots in both of you are slowly starting to fathom as well.

"Of course I do, he's everything to me."

As you say it, you can't help the grin which reappears reliably each time you finish verbalizing your thoughts. It's contagious, you notice.

"And do you think – just hypothetically of course", it's only then he breaks eye contact to clear his throat, "of course", you interrupt him still smiling and cocking an eyebrow at him, "d'ya think it would be okay for this best friend to, uh, maybe...", Eddie pauses, internally watching the ship containing his confidence set sail slowly and ultimately letting the irrational thoughts win for tonight, "would you let him..."

Eddie generally wasn't someone who lacked confidence. It showed in the way he boisterously wandered the halls of Hawkins High, the way his demeanor never changed, his mask never faltered no matter who was around. Except for you. You who he had always granted a look underneath the impulsive, extroverted surface.

"Eds", you try everything in your power to stay calm even though everything inside of you is screaming right now and you're certain you can feel your pulse in your earlobes.

"Would it be just insane of that best friend to kiss you right now?"

You want to squeal and kick your feet, pull him into your face, pinch your own forearm, pass away, leave the house and never return, and stay right where you are forever, buried underneath your favourite metalhead, the parts where your bodies are touching practically on fire, cosy and content.

Instead, the most fond smile spreads over your lips as you try to contain your internal overwhelm.

It's still dark, the only light source being the full moon outside. Eddie's so hopeful of your reciprocation and even more terrified of ruining his entire life at the same time, those deep doe eyes at this point pretty much resemble the shape of the space rock orbiting earth. Rejection from you, his pretty Peach and the Bonnie to his Clyde, would be unbearable.

"I think so," you almost whisper, the hand that's been rubbing over Eddie's back coming up to lightly trace one of his eyebrows with your index finger because you just can't seem to not touch him in some way, "but you should know that I love his insanity."

Your small giggle is being silenced by a soft and cautious kiss from Eddie Munson. Like he doesn't want to break you. Or he's afraid you'll snap out of a haze, slap him and leave if he starts kissing you like he really wants to.

And then it's you who goes for it, you feel at home, right where you belong, you don't think you've ever felt this good. The hand on his jaw tugs him closer softly, pressing your lips to his with a bit more urgency.

It gives him all the confirmation he could possibly need.

That tingle, it grows and fills up your chest and shoots through your entire being, goosebumps and all. Eddie moans and breathes against your lips, tongue dancing over the thin skin, asking for permission.

His ringed hand digs deeper and slowly moves to the nape of your neck, intending to hold you in place, afraid you could slip away from him if he didn't. This blossoming thing between you could slip away from him. If he didn't.

It's so soft, the way his lips touch yours, and before you know it they move to your cheek, to your jaw, down your neck before Eddie comes up again, smiling from ear to ear, to gently bump his nose against the tip of yours and his lips return home with a soft and deep hum escaping from his lungs into your mouth.

Relief floods his veins along with whatever it is you're doing to him. The ability to shut out the insanity of the past hours is what he so desperately wants to cling to for as long as you allow him, even if the dawn will remind him of the horrid reality he's involuntarily become subject to live through now.

"You're making things so much better, Peach, you're so sweet, so fucking cute, so fucking good for me, do you even know for how long I've been dreaming of this?"

Eddie greedily pulls your face into his again, not even giving you a chance to reply and not nearly getting enough of your affection it seems with how fervently his tongue searches for yours.

A gentle collision of skin.

The soft whimpers you let out only spur him on. You not backing away from him, staying with him, letting him be this close to you?

You, the only constant source of consolation Eddie's ever really had.

Life changing.

Soft touches follow soft touches, your thumb traces his jaw repeatedly.

"You don't–", kiss, "for how long–", kiss, "I've been dreaming–", kiss, "of you as well", you breathe against him and Eddie thinks he might be about to resort to sniffling into your collar again with the amount of relief he is experiencing.

You'd let him.

"Yeah?", he presses his nose into your cheek with his eyes closed, smiling from ear to ear, relaxing his entire body into yours as you let him slide inbetween your legs.

"Yeah, you know how much of a sucker I am for peaches", you grin, another peck to his cheek, his jaw, his neck, your hips slowly finding a rhythm against his own.

Eddie groans at your allusion with a wide grin on his face (and the feeling of your warmth against his dick), before pressing his lips against yours again lovingly, "me too baby, me too."

–––

taglist (thought you might be interested): @josephfakingquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @analogkraken, @wroteclassicaly, @songforeddiemunson, @joejoequinnquinn, @somnambulic-thing, @trashmouth-richie, @eddddiemunson, @ceriseheaven, @userchai

comments, reblogs and other forms of affection towards the author are greatly appreciated thank youuuuu <3

#nora writes #get the peaches #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #this took me way too fucking long to finish holy shit #but it's here now #it's here !!!#finally lol #also sorry for the title it makes me cringe but i couldn't come up with anything else for the life of me #oh well i hope y'all enjoy this either way :)#thank u for reading <3

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coryosbaby · 1 year ago

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— ɪ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ ᴀɴ ᴏʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ, ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀꜰꜰᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ !

cowboy! Coriolanus snow x fem! Reader

synopsis: you meet a handsome, mysterious cowboy at a carnival.

content warning . western au, dumb choices, handjobs, cunnilingus, age gap if u squint ig

When you first lock eyes with him, it’s at a county fair.

How cliché it is, but in a small southern town of Kentucky it’s not that uncommon to meet your lover at such an event. Everyone from your town knows each other, knows every name, face, and house. It’s a wonder that anyone has any privacy at all.

But the man you’re looking at, you’ve never seen him around these parts before. His brown curls are hidden— you know he has brown curls because of the way the brunette locks peek out from underneath his cowboy hat. He’s wearing a button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, suspenders, and the usual pants you see on every other man. But he wears all of this so exceptionally well that you can’t take your eyes off of him.

And he’s looking at you.

You shiver as you watch him watch you. Your momma stands beside you and gossips with her church going friends, and you hope she doesn’t notice the eyes you’re giving this perfect stranger. She’d pound your hide for sure. You smooth down your dress, your eyes wondering to the man’s muscle-ey arms. He must be very fit underneath that outfit.

He moves, walking towards a ring toss game and winks at you. Heat creeps down from your fingers to your toes, your bloomers become drenched with arousal. You want to talk to him— of course you do. Who wouldn’t? Your momma is busy, anyway, so what harm could it really do? You say goodbye to her and tell her you’re going to go play a few games. You’re not exactly lying about that. Your heel clad feet make their way across the dirt as you subtly take your place beside the man. He smells like soap and cigars, and you’re thankful that he isn’t like the smelly men that plague your location. He turns to look at you, a smile playing on his lips.

“Do you wanna play?”

His voice has a soft southern drawl, not as vibrant as yours but still there. He must be from somewhere more up north.

“I’m not that good at these games,” you sheepishly reply. “But I’d like to watch you, sir, if that’s okay.”

“Sir, huh?” He seems amused, and his big hands toss a ring that lands around an old milk bottle. “I’m not that old, y’know.”

You nervously fumble on the balls of your feet.

“I jus’ turned twenty.”

He looks at you again, taking in the sight of your lipstick smeared lips.

“Thought you’d be younger,” he teases, and you smirk.

“Is that a problem?”

“Not for me,” he laughs, throwing another ring and once again, landing it onto the milk bottle. You wonder what else his hands can do besides play carnival games. “I’m twenty five, sweet thing.”

A slight age gap, but nothing you can’t handle. He tosses the last ring towards the bottles, and it lands again. The man who’s monitoring the tent lets out a loud whistle.

“First winner of the night,” he says. “Which stuffed animal d’ya want?”

At the mention of the wall of prizes, your eyes dart to all of them. They land on a brown bear with a pink bow wrapped up around its neck, and you frown when you realize that you weren’t the one to win the game.

But to your surprise, the man beside you smiles with his shiny white teeth and points at the bear.

“That one, right there, for this pretty lady.”

Excitement floods through you as the man grabs the bear from the shelf. He hands it to you and you squeal, hugging the bear to your chest.

“Thank you, sir!”

You’re talking to the one beside you, not the vendor, and he chuckles.

"Coriolanus,” he says, and it rolls off of his tongue like honey. “My name is Coriolanus Snow.”

You smile at him as you reveal your name. His hands are cold against your skin when they brush against your shoulder.

“Well, [y/n],” he starts. “Do you wanna get out of here for a little bit?”

It’s against your better judgement to go off from your family for the comfort of a stranger. But this man— Coriolanus— he’s different. Your undergarments are soaked, too, you know they are.

“My momma told me I shouldn’t be alone with strangers,” you chastise. “Promise not to hurt me, Mr. Coriolanus?”

He leans in close to you, something dark drawling in his voice.

“I’ll do my best to take care of you.”

—

You didn’t tell your family where you went. They were probably going to be occupied for the rest of the night, anyway. Your feet pad against the ground as Coriolanus leads you out to his pickup truck. It’s a bit rusty, but it’s a lot better than the vehicles you’re used to. He opens the door for you— a gentleman— and you climb into the passengers seat with little struggle. You lean back in the seat and place the stuffed bear in between the both of you as Coriolanus takes his place beside you. The ride to this mysterious destination is shorter than you expect. He turns into the woods— a little creepy, but you have a switchblade in your corset so it’s fine. When you arrive in front of an opening in front of a lake, your eyes light up.

“You can swim, right?” Coriolanus asks you.

“Of course.” You reply, opening the car door. You skip over to the edge of the water, dipping your hand in to get a feel of the temperature. It’s a bit cold, but nothing you can’t handle. You’re so distracted by the scenery that you hardly notice the sound of Coriolanus’ belt buckle until you turn around. He’s unzips his fly and begins to unbutton your shirt. A humored smile spreads across your lips.

“Skinny dipping? Really?”

“Don’t do it if you don’t want to,” he shrugs, pulling his pants down past his thighs. “Unless you’re a coward.”

You gasp, lifting yourself back up and putting your hands on your hips.

“I am not a coward, Coriolanus Snow. I’m just a lady.”

“A lady who snuck off from her momma to be with a boy she barely knows?”

He has a point with that, and you let out a frustrated noise. You try not to blush as he slips his shirt off, left in nothing but his underwear. He takes his hat off, too, and his hair is just as perfect as you imagined. You finally give in, beginning to unbotton the top of your dress.

“You’ll have to help with my corset, I hope you know. This thing is such a hassle to unlace.”

“I’d be happy to.”

He seems smug when you pull your dress over your head, your bloomers and corset being revealed to him. You pull your hair into a makeshift ponytail and turn around so he can undo the laces on your corset, and his fingers strategically remove the strings in a matter of a few minutes.

“Seems like you’ve done this a lot, Coriolanus.”

He hums. “I guess you could say that I don’t lack experience.”

You scoff, turning around and sliding the corset off of your shoulders. Coriolanus gapes at your now bare chest, your hardened nipples on full display and your chest full and inviting.

“Neither do I.”

You move towards the water, and like a puppy dog Coriolanus trails in after you. The water goes up to your chest by the time you’re done moving, and Coriolanus pulls your half nude body close to him. You giggle, feeling like a giddy child, feeling free. He presses a kiss to your neck, then another, and another. It’s like you’ve known him your whole life. His lips brush over yours, not quite touching but just enough to give you the impression of his desire.

“Can I?” He asks, sweet and gentle. You nod, your head spinning, and his mouth molds to yours perfectly. His hands wrap tightly around your waist to hold you to him, and your arms come up to grasp the locks of his hair. He breathes heavy, pushing his hips against you, and you laugh against his lips when you feel his hardness press against you.

“You’re a filthy man, Coriolanus snow.”

He rolls his eyes, his palm coming down to rub over your breast. You gasp against his mouth, your mound pressing against his bulge, and he chuckles.

“Me?” He chastises.

“Mmm..”

Your hand reaches down, not shy to a man’s body as you move past his waistband. Your hand grips his cock, your tongue coming out to lick your lips when you feel how thick he is.

“Big boy, aren’t you?” You say with a throaty breath. He groans, his face burying itself in your neck as you begin to stroke him.

Your hands are like magic, your skill magnified tenthfold because it’s been a while since Coriolanus has been touched by a woman’s hands. His hips buck against you, precum dripping out of his swollen cockhead, and when your thumb brushes over the underside of his cock he lets out a deep, gravelly moan.

“You’re so good at this,” he breathes out, his grip on your waist the only thing keeping him up. “So good, darlin’, Fuck.”

You whine against him, his praise making your knees buckle. The water around you is still cold but it’s warming now because of your adjustment and your shared body heat. You can feel a few rocks poke at the bottom of your feet, but you can’t think about that right now. Coriolanus’ pleasure is like your own, and with the way he’s feeling… you don’t know how you’re still standing.

You reach past his cock for a moment to feel up his balls, soft in your palm, and the sound he makes is so guttural it’s almost as if you have killed him. His cock kicks, you can feel it and hear the water below you splash as your hand moves faster and gets him closer. He keeps spilling precious moans from his mouth, and you think you could spend everyday with him like this, even though you’ve only known him for a few hours.

“Gonna cum…” he whimpers out, his legs shaking. “Gonna cum all over your hand, baby.”

And you’re perfectly fine with that. You bite down on his earlobe, letting out a tiny giggle.

“Cum for me, Coriolanus. Cum.”

It’s an automatic command that has the boy thrusting one final time against you before he spills inside his underwear. Thick ropes of cum squirt against your hand, sticky and hot. You let him ride out his high before you press a wet kiss to his neck. He sighs against you, and he knows his body would be nearly limp if he wasn’t so fit. After that sigh he lets out a laugh, serotonin flooding his brain as you pull your hand out of his underwear. You smile at him.

“How was that?” You ask him. He tilts his head, biting teasingly against your cheek.

“So amazing that I need you up on that shoreline, darlin’. I needa touch you, too.”

You bite your lip, nervous as you reply.

“You don’t gotta do that. I know some men don’t like to.”

Coriolanus’ brows furrow, a look of disgust crossing his features.

“No man hates eating pussy. What kind of boys have you been hangin’ around?”

You stutter, trying to come up with a response but Coriolanus just shushes you and guides you back to the shoreline with his hands. His back muscles ripple as you watch him from behind, and you wonder what a wanderer is doing with muscles like that.

When you both get back to shore he tells you to stand and wait. He comes back soon with a blanket in his hands and spreads it out on the shore. You lay down on it, trying to calm your beating heart. Coriolanus takes a spot in front of you, sitting on his knees in between your legs. He smiles at you, his thumbs moving to the waistband of your bloomers. You nod to him, and with callused hands he pulls them down past your ankles. He throws them in the sand, the smell of your pussy hitting his nostrils and making him groan. His nose scrapes against your inner thighs, his hands holding your legs open as he begins to mouth closer and closer to your pussy.

“Coryo,” you whine, the nickname making his cock twitch. “Please? Y-You don’t have to, but I.. I really, really want you to.”

“Want me to do what, honey?” He says, his mouth hovering over your dripping slit. “Eat this pretty little pussy? Is that what you want?”

You cry out, nodding your head, begging for it now, and finally Coriolanus licks a long, wet stripe up your juicy cunt with his tongue. His eyes roll back at the taste of you, and he dives into your pussy like a man starved. His tongue moves up and down before probing your hole, slipping just the tip in as his nose rubs against your clit. You desperately hump against his face, riding his strong nose and squeezing around his wet tongue. You’ve never been eaten out before, never in your life. Not even with the handful of men you’ve lain with— none have ever wanted to do this or try to. You’re practically in heaven right now.

“Nghhh..” you moan, tears beginning to pool in your eyes. You jump when his finger brushes up against your entrance, slipping it inside next to his tongue and scissoring, and fuck, you never knew this could be so good. Your legs try to close around Coriolanus’ head but he grabs one of them with his free hand and pushes it down. Your legs hitch up, a sob spilling from your throat, and the man below you can’t stop humming and making precious sounds. Slurping noises echo throughout the empty, wooded area, and you can’t help but fantasize about being caught. How hot it would be, someone walking in on this, on this hot cowboy devouring your pussy like it’s his last meal, your fingers gripping his curls like your life depends on it as he drives you closer and closer to the edge like no other man has.

Coriolanus slips another finger inside you, removing his tongue from inside you and making his way up to your puffy clit. He captures it in between his teeth, suckling with everything he has, and without warning your body is seizing up and you’re cumming, a sob escaping you, your hands yanking on his hair, your legs shaking. Coriolanus drinks up your spend, his chin dripping with your release as he pulls away and wipes his mouth on his wrist. You look down at him, and a grin spreads wide on his face. You grin back at him, the post orgasm clarity overtaking you as gets up and digs in his pants pocket. He lays down beside you, taking out a cigar and a match as he lights it up. He takes a long drag and a silence overtakes the lakeside, the only sound the light summer breeze and the crickets in the woods. You turn on your side, the moonlight reflecting off of Coriolanus’ jawline. He turns to look at you too, passing the cigar off to you. You take it, trying not to cough or embarrass yourself because this is your first time ever touching one of these things. When you clumsily inhale and exhale, you give it back to him with curiosity on your face.

“What’s a man like you doin’ around here anyway?” You ask him. “You some kind of outlaw?”

He chuckles, his fingertips grazing your thigh as he looks up at the full moon in the sky.

“If I was, would you tell on me?”

He knows you wouldn’t, but he teases you anyway. You shake your head.

“I wouldn’t. It ain’t my business.”

He sighs.

“Maybe I am. And I think that’s why I need to tell you to stay away from me from now on.” He explains. His finger grips your wrist, tickling you. “I’m bad news, sweetheart.”

“I can handle it, cowboy.”

He rolls his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans back again and closes them. He changes the subject.

“Do you need me to take you home?”

You shrug, grabbing the cigar from him.

“It can wait a few more hours. My momma’s gonna be livid when she sees me.”

And it’s true. Because when Coriolanus drops you off in his pick up truck with a promise to see you again (after your persuading), you show up at your front door barefoot, the teddy bear in your hands, and without a corset— Coriolanus had taken it from you as a souvenir, and he said he didn’t intend to give it back. In return, you had taken his hat and perched it on your head as a reminder of his touch. You give him a small thumbs up when you watch him get the hell out of dodge.

Your momma is furious when she opens that door, but you don’t regret this night one bit.

#Coriolanus snow #Coriolanus snow x reader #Coriolanus snow x fem! reader #Coriolanus snow smut #dom Coriolanus snow #cowboy! Coriolanus snow #thg #the hunger games #hunger games #the hunger games fanfic #tbosas #the ballad of songs and snakes #the ballad of songs and snakes fanfic #Tom blyth #Billy the kid #Coriolanus snow fanfic

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woewriting · 1 year ago

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cold coffee

pairing: tara carpenter | fem detective reader warnings: mdni! no major warnings, fluffy and soft moments, implied sex; this take place after scream vi events. word count: 3049 a/n: this one is for you, @wesstars 🫶

masterlist

“Think you can warm me up?”

The low request came almost unnoticed by you, making you take a step back and look carefully at the ball of blankets on the couch.

Hidden there, under a couple layers of cozy blankets, a small Tara appeared with a red nose.

You smiled softly at the adorable view in front of you.

“I can’t, babe, I have some reports to look at, and it’s getting late.”

She pouted, looking at you with doe eyes that never failed, wide, soft with shining little stars dancing in the brown as she looks at you.

“Please? Just until I fall asleep.”

How could you say no to that?

You fold in the same second, forgetting that you have long pile of files to look at, carefully placing your mug filled with hot coffee on the side table, you took off your slippers and slid under the thick fabric, opening your arms towards the younger one.

Like she always does, Tara threw her legs over yours and hugged your torso, resting her head on your shoulder.

“You know…” you started, pulling her closer to you. “You wouldn’t feel cold if you wore more than just underwear and a tank top.”

“I don’t need to wear clothes; I have you to keep me warm,” Tara said back, looking at you with soft, sleepy eyes.

You smiled fondly, caressing her thigh with your hand. Leaning forward, you placed a kiss on her forehead, admiring the way the corner of her lips slightly tugged up, eyes closed and tip of nose red, the freckles spread on her face like stars in the dark night; Tara was a work of art.

“I love you so much, did you know that?” You whispered close to her lips.

She wrinkled her nose, “I know, but I don’t mind hearing you saying again, and again…”

Stopping her rambling, you pressed your lips on hers, sighing with such familiar taste of cherry of her lip balm. Tara was all soft, and when she was like this, calm and patient under your touch, it made your heart race.

When you first met her, during a rainy night at the police station, the girl could barely sustain your eyes, always avoiding them and fixating on somewhere or something else, like on her older sister, Sam. She came in because some idiots from a frat house were harassing her and her sister following the events from last year. You didn’t know much about the Carpenter’s sister, it was only your first month as a detective in New York, only heard rumors and whispers about it.

You ignored the others eyes on her, taking off your jacket to cover the small body that was trembling, being closely watched by the older Carpenter. Carefully, you placed the brown leather jacket around her shoulders, taking a couple steps back once you did, giving her a safe space.

Tara went home with your jacket that night, and when she brought it back, leaving it at the front desk, 5 days later, a small note was inside the pocket, written in a delicate handwriting, a small “thank you :)”. You smiled, keeping the note inside and going back to work.

The precinct was a place filled with gossips, theories and lies made up to creep you out. Your colleagues — if you could call them that — weren’t the most delightful people to be around, as most of them were men, you felt misplaced, an outcast, even thought you were on a higher level than them, mere police officers with a giant ego. Respect was a word that, apparently, wasn’t taught to them during life. You could count on your fingers the ones that were truly a nice officer and decent human being.

As the days went by, more talking took over the place, annoying ones that always got your rolling your eyes and ignoring them, the Carpenter sister’s being the subject of it 90% of the time, it’s like the big apple only had two young girls living in it and they were the reason to all the chaos that perpetuate in New York.

One day, late at night, you were finishing some reports to call it a day when a familiar voice caught your attention, the short blonde hair and leather jacket automatically bringing a smile on your face. You closed your computer and stood up, grabbing the brown leather jacket from the chair’s back and tossed over your shoulder.

“You’re too loud, did you know that, agent Reed?”

The woman turned around the same second your known perfume filled the room, a big smile tugging on her lips. She waited for you to get closer, annoyingly punching your arm as a form to say ‘hi’. Standing in front of her, the younger Carpenter was awkwardly looking at you, curiosity in her eyes as she watched you and your old friend interact.

You didn’t notice, but Tara was carefully watching you, the way your eyes light up whenever Kirby said something that happened while you were away from each other, crazy stories like the one where she almost got killed, again, a couple months ago. Funny ones, like when a common friend of yours got scared during a mission and yelled like a little girl because of a cat hidden inside a locker, causing you to throw your head back as you deliciously laughed. She smiled too, tilting her head to admire the way your nose scrunched or how your lips moved when you talked, or how your browns furred when Reed told what happened last year during Halloween, only then your eyes met Tara’s for more than a few seconds, a pinkish color painting her cheeks.

You didn’t know much about it, choosing to ignore the comments as you never knew what was a fact or what was a lie purposefully made up to destroy the sister’s images. All you were aware off, was that the masked killer that terrorized your colleague, and friend’s, life years ago in Woodsborro came back and worked at the precinct.

Kirby wasn’t the type of person that spoke about her fears and the horrors that haunted her over the years, all you knew was what she chose to share and the reason to why she decided to become a detective. You didn’t push her to talk, patiently waited for her to open up to you by choice because she trusted you. It took a long time for the moment to come, but one day, the alcohol in her made her talk and boy… she really had a lot to share, and it was very graphic — you swore you could feel the knife twisting inside you.

And now, with your eyes connected to Tara��s, a girl that seemed so sweet and kind, had gone through the same traumatic event as Reed did and, knowing her the way you did, you could only image the scars that hung onto the young Carpenter’s body and soul. You smiled at her, reaching your hand to hers.

“It’s nice seeing you again, miss Carpenter.”

Her hand was soft, warm and delicate against yours.

“You too, detective.” She smiled, hand still on yours. “I didn’t know you and Kirby knew each other.”

“Well, when I joined the force,” you started, forcing yourself to break the contact. “Reed was the first one to reach out to me and invite me for some beer after out shift.”

“She’s a very quiet girl, but it’s a great listener.” Kirby said with her costumery side smiled. “If you ever need someone to talk to, Tara, she’s the one you can go to.”

You looked at Kirby with pursed lips, head tilting in a silent ‘what the fuck are you doing?’

Tara let out a small laugh, “It’s good to know that, Kirby. If you trust her, then I do too.”

“Well, I don’t believe in that,” you said, licking your lips as you gave your attention to the girl. “I rather earn your trust than Kirby just giving it away. Trust is a very precious and intimate thing, Tara, you should only trust someone you know.”

“In that case, we should get to know each other better.” She smiled. “Don’t you think, detective?”

“I think that’s a great idea, miss Carpenter.”

That night was the first time you went out with Tara; Kirby tagged along in the first two hours but went home after a few rounds of beer, the alcohol getting to her way easier than you remembered. Helping her into the cab, you made sure to share her live location with you before sending her home, an old habit you had acquired after the truth about her life in Woodsboro.

“You know…” Tara started, her index finger messily playing with the sweaty, half empty, beer glass in front of her. “It’s sweet what you did there.”

“What do you mean?”

You have always been strong when it came to alcohol, maybe it was due to your position as a detective or you had a really good regenerating immune system — even a common cold couldn’t get to you.

Tara, apparently, wasn’t like you. She was leaning against the table, playing with the glass cup like a little kid that was sleepy but refused to close her eyes and drift away in slumber. You carefully watched her, afraid that she would eventually fall off the chair.

“The location, I saw you sending her live location to your number.”

You shrugged, taking a sip of your beer. “It’s nothing, really. I just want to make sure she gets home safe.”

“Still,” her hand reached yours on the table, thumb softly brushing your skin. “it’s sweet. You’re sweet.”

“And you’re drunk.” You laughed awkwardly, finishing your beer in one long sip, still allowing her to touch you. “Come on, let’s get you on a cab.”

Her hand grabbed yours when you threatened to stand up, ready to pay the bill. “No, please. I want to get to know you better.”

“We can do that some other time, miss Carpenter.”

“Promise?”

You didn’t like promises, it carried an obligation that you didn’t like, but you just couldn’t get yourself to say no when her big, sparkling eyes stared at your soul.

You sighed with a small smile, “I promise.”

When you were paying the bill, Tara was standing close to you, holding onto your arm as if you were going to run away from her. It was cute, you had to admit as you looked at her while the cashier waited for your card to approve the payment, the different height between you two very noticeable when her head barely reached the top of your shoulder.

Before you could put her inside the cab with her apartment address on it, you made sure to save her phone number and share her location with you, just like you did with Reed over the years.

“Text me when you get home?” Tara asked through the open window when you closed the door for her.

“I will.” You smiled, turning to the old driver. “Take her home safely, please?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You stood there for a few seconds, watching as the yellow car drove away, Tara’s happy face outside the window waving at you. You waved back, heart warm at how adorable she was.

When you got home that night, you weren’t exhausted even after the busy day and all the beer you had, you felt alive and giddy as you texted the newly-added number, telling her you were safe and sound at the comfort of your home. The reply came in the same second, telling you that she was in bed already with a kiss blowing emoji next to it.

Now, a year after that first night out with Tara, you had the young girl sleeping safely in your arms, the morning sun breaking the thick, rainy clouds and invading the apartment, waking you up. Tara was hidden in the hollow of your neck, her calm and heavy breathing tickling your skin, still sleeping soundly.

You looked around the scene, still half asleep. Your coffee mug, now cold, still on the side table. The birds were chirping for the first time in a while since the winter arrived in New York. Some blankets had fallen to the floor, leaving only one covering your bodies. It was true, Tara only needed you to keep her warm.

Feeling your eyes on her, she stirs in her sleep and you’re fast to tighten your arms around her, but after all the incidents that happened around her in the past years, she was a light sleeper.

“You’re suffocating me.” She giggles, hand resting on your neck.

“I should suffocate you after you made me skip work last night.”

“Did I? I don’t remember putting a gun to your head and making you cuddle me.”

Your eyes widened, pulling back just enough to find hers.

“You did worse! You looked at me with Bambi eyes and you know I cannot say no to that.”

She laughs, “You’re very weak for a detective.”

Rolling your eyes, you ignored the fake teasing, caressing the scar on the right side of her belly.

“I’m only weak when it comes to you. You’re my only weakness, Tara.”

Her expressions softened, eyes analyzing your face. She knew you weren’t lying, just like she knew you would do anything to protect her, other than the four core, you were the only one that took her walls down.

“Well, then I guess I’ll have to use this against you so I can have you all to myself.”

“You’ll always have me all to yourself.”

“I know,” she shrugged. “but sometimes work steals you from me.”

You smile, “I have to keep my girlfriend safe, don’t I?”

“I guess you do, but today,” the tip of her fingers slid under the collar of your sweater, noticing the lack of bra; she wet her lips. “I have you all to myself, and I am not letting you go.”

“I certainly don’t want you to.”

Tugging you by the collar, she climbed on top of you, the blanket falling to the floor with the sudden motion.

For the first time you could fully see her as she sat on your hip; black panties and an equally black tank top, slightly wrapped around her thin waist, the tip of her scar visible, messy hair cascading down her shoulders.

Biting your lower lip as your eyes followed her curves, hands on her thigh following to her hip, then her waist in a strong squeeze. When she leaned down, lips oh so close to yours, you jumped when a low clearing of the throat coming from the kitchen filled the room; your instinct quick to pull a blanket from the floor to cover Tara’s body and pull her against you.

Standing in the corner of the brick wall, Sam was avoiding looking in your direction until her sister was fully covered, arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Please, tell me you two weren’t going to have sex on my couch, again.”

Tara hid a laugh against your neck, unlike you — who felt heat rising from your toes all the way up to your face, cheeks burning with Sam’s disgusted look. This wasn’t the first time the older Carpenter walked on the two of you, but it was funny that this happened twice on the same week, at least this time you both were fully covered…

You opened your mouth in an attempt to say something, an apology, or maybe try to convince her that this was not what was happening at all, but all that came out was a struggled sound that caused Tara to laugh muffled against you.

Sam took a deep breath, reaching out for her keys that were settled next to your mug. She adjusted the black beanie as she walked to the door, unlocking the 4 sets of locks and turning to you with a tired expression, “If you two are still on my couch when I come back, we’re gonna have a whole different conversation. Got it?”

You nodded fast.

“Good.”

And left.

You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you’d been holding when you heard the jingling of keys on the other side of the door and distant steps going down the stairs.

Removing the blanket from her head, Tara looked at the closed door before staring at you, a loud and delicious laugh breaking the almost palpable tension that was left in the room.

“How can you laugh like this when your sister walked on us like this, again?” You were in disbelief, heart beating in your throat.

“If you could see your face, you’d laugh too,” she whipped the corner of her eyes, pressing a fast kiss on your lips. “I might be your only weakness, but Sam is your only fear.”

You huffed, agreeing with your girlfriend.

“I’ve seen what she’s capable of, I am not risking having my hands cut off, I’d miss them a lot!”

“Oh, trust me, I know,” she leaned in, hands on the side of your head, a hard grip on the cushions you laid your head on. Tara brushed her lips on yours, a fainted smell of cherries filling your lungs. "I would miss them too... more than you could ever imagine.”

Before you could close the small gap between your lips, the jingling of keys got you sitting up, arms firmly wrapped around the youngest waist, walking to bedroom at the end of the hallway, a giggly Tara clinging to your body for her dear life; you kicked the door close and leaned against it, breath caught up to your throat as you faced Tara with pursed lips.

Sam had her eyes closed when the door swung open, one hand on the door knob and the other covering her face. She had forgotten her cellphone. When she was met with silence, her index finger moved up a little, enough for her to peek at the scene.

The living room was a mess, blankets all over the floor, your slippers and Tara’s lost in between, a couple cushions in the middle as well, but what made her take a deep breath to keep from freaking out was the overturned mug on the side table, cold coffee dripping on the wooden floor.

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edenesth · 9 months ago

Text

The Way to His Heart [15]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 14 | Fic Masterlist | Part 16

"I still don't understand why you had to creep around instead of just approaching her and introducing yourself properly," Jongho remarked, rolling his eyes as Wooyoung clicked his tongue in frustration, "Oh, come on! Can you blame me? She's so beautiful, I got nervous, alright?! I've never had to talk to her before, and I just... I panicked!"

The assistant squinted at his friend, "You do realise if the general catches wind of any of that, you'll be out of a job. Don't tell me you have a crush on our mistress..."

"And you don't?!" The private investigator squeaked, eyes widening in disbelief as Jongho shook his head, unamused, "That's inappropriate. Don't you ever suggest such a thing again."

Wooyoung kept his mouth shut, realising that his friend would be the last person interested in hearing him gush about how pretty he found you. He was fully aware that you were his employer's wife and therefore off-limits. Still, it wouldn't hurt to indulge in the innocent fantasy of being a secret admirer.

Besides, he still valued his life, and it wasn't as if he was actually in love with you or anything. Deep down, humans are all visual animals, and he found his tiny crush on you completely justifiable.

Turning serious, Jongho inquired, "So, what did the mistress need help with? She's been secluded in the study ever since Prince Yeosang's departure and hadn't spoken to any of us until you showed up. Something must have happened."

With a smug nod, Wooyoung responded, "Ah, it seems I already know more than you. How does that feel, senior assistant Choi?" His grin disappeared when the younger man did not react as expected, only staring him down intimidatingly, as if daring him to continue with his playful shenanigans, "Ugh, fine, sheesh. The fourth prince invited her to his birthday banquet happening next week. She's really anxious since it's her first royal event and without General Park. She wants guidance on dealing with the royals."

Head shooting up at the revelation, the assistant knitted his brows together in concern, "The fourth prince... invited her to his birthday banquet? Did he say why?"

The private investigator shrugged, a hint of nonchalance in his tone, "He mentioned that since General Park is away, he hoped Lady Park could represent him this year."

A troubled expression clouded Jongho's features as he processed the information, his mind racing with possible implications. The idea of His Highness extending such an invitation seemed out of the ordinary, sparking unease within him.

Noticing the younger man's troubled demeanour, Wooyoung nudged him on the shoulder, concern evident in his voice, "Why do you look so bothered, man? What's on your mind?"

Jongho's stomach churned as he mulled over his thoughts, his voice tinged with apprehension as he responded, "I wouldn't have been surprised if it had been any of the other princes. But Prince Yeosang? He hasn't hosted a single birthday banquet in years. And besides, his connection with the general is minimal at best. So... what do you think he wants with our mistress?"

That revelation made the private investigator sit up straight, suddenly grasping the complexity of the situation. If what his friend said held true, it meant the fourth prince was plotting something. A surge of protectiveness for you washed over him, wanting to ensure your safety and not let his role model down.

Turning to the assistant, he asked, "Damn, I don't like the sound of that. So what's our move? Should we warn her?"

Jongho shook his head adamantly, "Absolutely not. She'd panic, and that's the last thing we need. I'll fetch the dressmaker; he's one of the general's closest friends, and along with Physician Jung's help, we'll try to figure this out."

"Oh, one more thing!" Wooyoung interjected, grabbing the younger man's attention, "Lady Park did mention that it would be great if she could somehow get in touch with Royal Secretary Choi. It seems she believes he's the only one who can offer helpful advice for navigating the royal event."

Pondering this information quietly, the assistant nodded, "Fortunately, I've corresponded with him on behalf of the general several times. I should be able to reach him easily."

Jongho furrowed his brows, noticing the unsettled expression on the investigator's face, "What's bothering you now?"

Wooyoung sighed, his expression clouded with uncertainty, "The lady also expressed her doubts about whether the royal secretary would even consider helping her. She's unsure if someone as busy as him would take the time to assist her."

Shaking his head, the assistant offered reassurance, "Don't worry. Royal Secretary Choi is genuinely one of the kindest people you'll ever meet. He shares a friendship with the general and will certainly lend a hand to our mistress if she needs it."

That would soon be clear to them all when San arrived to grace everyone in the general's estate with his presence in just a few days, leaving Hongjoong, Yunho, and Wooyoung in awe as they watched the handsome man with an exceptionally fit physique—perhaps a little too fit to be a mere secretary—walk past the three of them, who were sitting in the living hall, with a respectful nod and courteous smile.

Jongho exchanged knowing glances with them as he ushered the royal secretary into the estate and towards the study, where you awaited his guidance with your studies.

"Am I the only one who thinks that guy seems more suited for the battlefield than the royal office?" Wooyoung quipped, prompting a reluctant nod from Hongjoong. For some inexplicable reason, he found the private investigator mildly annoying, almost like a younger brother, "As much as I hate to admit it, you're right about that. He does give off that vibe."

Yunho, known for his wisdom and maturity, offered a shrug in response, "We shouldn't judge someone solely by their appearance. Perhaps the royal secretary excels in matters of intelligence rather than physical strength."

Rolling his eyes, the dressmaker fired back, "Obviously, we're just joking. Lighten up a little, Yunho, or you'll never find a wife with that boring ass attitude."

The physician pursed his lips at the jab, while Wooyoung watched with amusement as the banter between the two friends unfolded, "Says you? You're older and still single. Perhaps the problem lies closer to home."

Hongjoong scoffed in disbelief and placed his hands on his hips, "Excuse you, I'll have you know there are plenty of women vying for my attention every day. It's not my fault I have standards."

"I could say the same." Yunho retorted.

Before the banter could escalate, Jongho intervened with a heavy sigh, "I leave for a minute, and you're already arguing. How is it that all of you are older than me?"

"I agree, assistant Choi. Their behaviour was rather immature," The investigator remarked, feigning innocence when the doctor raised an eyebrow, "You're the one who instigated the whole thing."

Just as Wooyoung opened his mouth to defend himself, the assistant rubbed his temple wearily, "Oh my god, enough. Let's not forget why we're here today��to figure out the intentions of Prince Yeosang regarding our mistress."

"Is that the purpose of this gathering?" Eunsook queried as she appeared by the entrance of the living hall.

The four nodded in confirmation, and the head maid sighed before joining them, "If that's the case, I believe I may be of help. I was with the mistress in the palace on the day the master discovered he had to depart for war. Something happened with the prince while we awaited the general's return from his emergency meeting."

As she recounted the incident at the cherry blossom garden, a dawning realisation settled over all of them. Suddenly, it all clicked into place: why Yeosang, known for despising his own birthday due to its reminders of his painful existence, was now planning a celebration and extending an invitation to Lady Park, of all people. It was clear to the group that the prince had set his sights on the general's wife, and this elaborate scheme was likely his attempt to lure you away from Seonghwa.

"I understand we're all concerned about what His Highness might attempt to win over our mistress, but I believe we should have a little faith in her. Her devotion to General Park is undeniable. I don't think she would easily forsake him after all he's done for her." The physician suggested, hoping to ease the tension in the room.

As the others visibly relaxed with the reminder, the dressmaker appeared to be the only one still troubled, "Yeah, about that..." The dread in the room heightened at Hongjoong's uneasy expression.

"What is it?" Jongho inquired cautiously.

With a frustrated expression, the eldest man among them ran a hand through his hair before recounting the recent encounter with Jinjoo, your stepsister, and the doubts you were starting to entertain about your husband, "I'm sorry, it's all my fault."

The elderly woman's stomach sank at the revelation, but she shook her head to reassure the dressmaker, "No, Hongjoong, it's not your fault. You couldn't have known her stepsister would be there. No matter how much we deny it, the truth has a way of surfacing. We can't hide it from her forever."

The others nodded in agreement, though filled with worry at the implications. They knew Eunsook was right. Eventually, you would likely discover the truth. They just hadn't expected it to happen so soon, especially with Seonghwa away at war. The thought of you being possibly swayed by the fourth prince's charms sent shivers down all their spines.

Well shit, that's not good at all.

"San, you're an absolute lifesaver. Thank you so much." You expressed with gratitude after the lengthy crash course he had just given you on dealing with royal figures when attending such events, offering a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes.

Returning the smile, the royal secretary noticed the fatigue and stress evident in your expression. He sensed there was more to your distress than just the fourth prince's sudden invitation to his birthday banquet. Perhaps his close relationship with his elder sister had sharpened his perception of women's emotions.

Observing your troubled expression, San gently inquired, "Are you feeling quite alright, Lady Park? If you're worried about the general, I can assure you that he is being partnered with only the best military strategist in all of Joseon. They have yet to lose a single battle thus far, I'm sure this time would be no different."

A wave of conflicting emotions washed over you at his words. On one hand, you appreciated his attempt to ease your worries about your husband's safety. On the other hand, a nagging curiosity gnawed at your mind, Jinjoo's words still lingering, urging you to delve deeper into the mysteries surrounding your family's punishments.

San's position as the royal secretary and his close friendship with the general made him an ideal source of information. Surely, he would know the intricate details of the case and could provide you with the answers you sought. However, the thought of uncovering the full truth filled you with trepidation.

What if reality's more than you could bear?

You wrestled with your inner turmoil, unsure of whether to broach the subject with Royal Secretary Choi. Part of you yearned for closure, to finally understand the events that took place without your knowledge. Yet, another part hesitated, fearing the potential consequences of unearthing Seonghwa's carefully buried secrets.

As you glanced at San, who was patiently awaiting your response, you grappled with your decision. Would you dare to confront the shadows of your fears, or would you continue to dwell in uncertainty, afraid of what truths lay beneath?

To hell with it.

Taking a deep breath, you responded, "Thank you for your reassurance regarding my husband's capabilities. However, that's not precisely what's weighing on my mind..."

He arched a curious eyebrow, intrigued by what other concerns could possibly be bothering you besides Seonghwa's safety, "I'm all ears, my lady." He offered, inviting you to share your thoughts.

Lowering your head, you recounted your recent encounter with your stepsister and the unsettling doubts it had stirred within you. Then, with a hesitant tone, you inquired, "May I seek clarification from you regarding my husband's role in the Jang family's punishments?"

San maintained a composed smile, betraying no hint of shock at your revelation. With a calm demeanour, he laced his fingers together before him, "I empathise with your concerns, Lady Park, and I want you to know that they are valid. While the details of the case are confidential, I can offer some clarity to ease your worries."

You held your breath as he continued, "The truth is, His Majesty was responsible for determining your family's physical punishments, but the general took charge of overseeing the entire process."

So, it's true.

Your heart sank at the confirmation.

"Understandably, you may find his involvement frightening. However, you need to know that this has always been the nature of his job. If you think him cruel, remember that every drop of blood shed was in service of this nation's security. He's doing what only a few have the guts to do. And in this case, it's out of love for you that he was determined to ensure that those who harmed you and your mother faced justice. My lady, can you truly fault him for that?"

His words struck you like a boulder, and you realised he might be onto something.

The royal secretary grinned as he observed your expression, knowing his words were making an impact, "Besides, you've been here long enough to witness how good he can be to those he cares about. That includes you, all the staff in this estate, as well as his loyal friends currently seated in the living hall. Surely, there must be a good reason why these people choose to remain by his side, wouldn't you agree?"

Noting your silence and contemplative expression, San understood that you needed time to digest everything. While he hoped he had made a valid point, he knew that your conflicting emotions wouldn't dissipate so easily. Nevertheless, he had done his best to encourage you to keep an open mind and speak the truth.

Ultimately, the next steps were up to you.

"As much as I'd like to stay and chat, I have another appointment scheduled in an hour, so I should probably head to my next destination." He announced, rising from his seat opposite you.

His words snapped you out of your reverie as you got up after him, "Ah, yes, of course. I can't thank you enough for everything, San."

As you escorted him towards the exit, he smiled warmly at you, "You're most welcome, Lady Park. Don't fret too much about the royal event next week. I'm sure you'll do splendidly, especially considering you've already managed to impress the fourth prince. He's not an easy royal to handle, so that's quite an achievement."

Prince Yeosang is... not easy to handle?

Before you could ask him to elaborate, the royal secretary was already boarding his carriage. With a defeated sigh, you waved at him as the vehicle began to pull away.

Heading back inside, your mind reeled from his words. His Highness had never seemed difficult around you, so you struggled to comprehend what San meant. Besides his slightly playful demeanour, you didn't find the prince hard to handle in any way.

Before you knew it, your head began to throb with the endless thoughts swirling around. Eunsook rushed over in concern when she saw you swaying, your hands pressed against your temples.

"Mistress! Are you feeling alright? Oh dear, you look exhausted," She exclaimed, her worry evident in her voice, "That's enough studying for today. Go and rest. I'll bring you dinner when it's ready."

Throughout the rest of the week, Jongho and the others couldn't bring themselves to warn you about the potential advances of the fourth prince. They noticed how visibly stressed you were, dedicating all your time to refining your ladylike etiquette and practising formal speech with the head maid. Your determination for perfection in your debut at a royal event was clear as day.

After receiving all the help you needed, you were finally ready for the banquet. Standing before the mirror, you inspected yourself, admiring the delicate red flower the dressmaker had once again helped you paint on your forehead, perfectly complementing your new hanbok, "Are you pleased with the look, Lady Park?"

You nodded enthusiastically, "Absolutely, Hongjoong. You never disappoint, and you know that."

With newfound confidence, you departed from the general's estate, accompanied by Jongho and Eunsook. Mentally reviewing the list of potential royals in attendance, you appreciated Wooyoung's efforts in the past week as he assisted you with retrieving specific books from the public library and studying the royal family tree.

The private investigator lingered near the estate's entrance after seeing you off, his jaw slightly agape. He had always found you pretty, but seeing you all dressed up and with the flower on your forehead, he was struck by your ethereal beauty. Just as he was about to entertain the thought that Seonghwa must have saved an entire country to deserve someone like you, he realised that might actually be true.

"Excuse me, Jung Wooyoung. That's not your lady to be ogling like that. Behave yourself, or I'll have to whoop your ass on behalf of the general." Hongjoong warned, rolling his eyes as the younger man pouted before sulking back inside the estate.

As your carriage approached the familiar high palace walls, Jongho and Eunsook exchanged determined glances. They had agreed to stick by your side at all times, wanting to protect you from whatever schemes Prince Yeosang might have planned for the event.

"We've arrived, mistress." The assistant announced as the carriage came to a stop.

With the head maid's assistance, you stepped down from the carriage with slightly less ease than when your husband carried you, feeling a pang in your heart as you were reminded of him. Despite your complicated feelings, you couldn't deny the longing for his presence. You hoped he was safe and well while you attended the birthday celebration of another.

Approaching the grand entrance of the hall hosting the fourth prince's birthday banquet, you noticed that the palace staff responsible for announcing guests had recognised you immediately, sparing Jongho the need to introduce you. As you reached the entrance, the staff announced in a loud voice, "Miss Jang, eldest daughter of the former Minister of Military Affairs, has arrived."

Your shock was palpable as the announcement rang out, your eyes widening and your stomach sinking at the unexpected introduction. The last thing you wanted was to be associated with your father, especially not at such a prestigious event. You had been specifically told by the prince that you were here to represent your husband. So why would they announce you like that, using your past title, when you now held a new and official one as the general's wife? The discrepancy left you feeling uneasy and out of place as you stepped into the grand hall.

What's the meaning of this, Your Highness?

« Preview of Part 16 »

"General Park! Letters for General Park!"

The messenger's urgent cry echoed through the camp, drawing attention to the main tent where Seonghwa typically conducted his affairs between battles. Bursting into the tent, the messenger gasped for breath, his eyes darting around, "Sir, may I enter?"

"Come in," A deep voice replied, but it wasn't the general's. Officer Song, the military strategist, sat alone inside, his gaze fixed on the newcomer, "General Park is uhh... preoccupied elsewhere at the moment. What brings you here, soldier?"

Handing over the stack of letters he carried, the messenger answered, "The general has received a few missives, one from his assistant and another from His Highness, the fourth prince."

Mingi's brow furrowed in confusion, "The fourth prince?"

The messenger nodded vigorously, "Yes, His Highness mentioned it's regarding an urgent matter and should be delivered to the general as soon as possible."

Officer Song nodded in acknowledgement, "I see. Leave it to me, soldier. I'll ensure it reaches him as soon as he's available."

As soon as the messenger departed, Mingi's curiosity overwhelmed him, and he unfolded the letter from Prince Yeosang. His breath hitched as he absorbed the concise yet weighty message. The prince started off by conveying gratitude for Seonghwa's service to the nation and extended well wishes, reassuring him not to worry about returning.

However, the content took a surprising turn with his final paragraph.

'Out of respect for you, I am writing to inform you that I will be proposing to Miss Jang. I believe she deserves the freedom to choose her own husband. Perhaps what she needs is someone who can remain by her side and not cause her any worry. If you truly care about her happiness, you would understand.'

Once again setting the stage for the main event HAHA sorry for the (sorta) filler chapter, but I promise there will definitely be drama in the next part.😈

Also, thank you so much for 1.3k followers! As always, thank you for reading and please let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/9): @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @ssrnghwa @yunnieo @sunnyhokyu @lynnsqueendom @frobin4ever @chwesuh-imnida @thunderous-wolf @itstheghostofmypast @professormingisglasses @deltamoon666 @avantalem @famishalll @yungilia @soobiverse @joongified @scuzmunkie @http-gyu @mentoslol @atinyreads @angel-hyuckie @anxiousskylar @onedumbho3 @narashii @ddaeing @sanstreasure0305 @sohnfile @scarfac3 @dreamingofyeo @puppyminnnie @tinyteezer @vantediary @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @aliona124754 @bts-army380 @lilactangerine @atinyniki @pay13 @1117promises @xoxkii @st4rcig4r @hikarii02 @nescaffei @xdolls-crownx @ashrocker123 @skzline @minkiflwr @starssongs98 @baeksofty @skz1-4-3 @kawaiikels @madnpan @maoyueze @en-happiness @cheolliehugs @persnyako @startinystay @chngbnwf @fatspecimen @christinerose380 @stfu-rina @kyukyustar @taytayy178 @appleschre @brielle-in-the-galaxy @kamabokogonpachro @laurenwidjaja @yangwonielvrs @n1k1mura @idkwgoh @loveateez @linosllvr @wolfgurl2600-blog

Tag list (cont.): see comment/reply section

#edenesth #the way to this heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

660 notes · View notes

thetxtdevil · 4 months ago

Text

The 'Girl' Friend

Huening Kai x Reader

summary: Kai turns envious of Taehyun's new friend, thinking she's his girlfriend. A turn of events happens when the 'girlfriend' finds Kai in a compromising position.

content: smut, friends to lovers?, fem.reader, masturbation, jerking off, slight fingering, penetration, just softness no hard stuff

word count: 1.7k

Kai and his friends have been doing game nights at the local bar every Fridays. At first it was just the five of them but then it became a bigger group. Kai is one to keep to himself so he comes alone appreciating the already big group that has been collected by the other members.

One Friday night all the boys arrive at the bar with additional company. The bar was modern yet woodsy, wood panels upon the walls with black furniture throughout the establishment it was cazy and fun. Music blasting getting guest excited for the night, Kai sits down placing the beer on the table looking at the night's trivia themes.

"Hey, Kai I have someone for you to meet" the familiar voice of Taehyun appears in the man's senses. Kai tilts his up looking completely astonished by this someone's beauty. "This is y/n"

Kai launches out of his chair to shake your hand but bumps the table making his drink spill everywhere. You three all gasp, you quickly reach for napkins to soak up the liquor.

"You're going to need another drink after that" you giggle.

The man couldn't speak, you were pretty and your voice was so enchanting. Tae was quick to catch on when he witnesses the two of you have a moment looking into each other's eyes. The rest of the night felt weird Kai couldn't stop laughing loudly at your joke and his eyes were glued to you. He felt like a creep.

---

Kai has a crush, ok maybe he has fallen for you. The problem is it seems you're taken because you were always hanging out with Taehyun. Yes, you would carry conversations with the other members of Kai's group but you and Tae seemed to be close. Your presence started with a regular occurrence to the game nights and then became very often when Taehyun welcomed you to the boys' house.

This gave Kai more chances to be with you. However, envy would rush through his veins every time you would hug, cuddle, or simply whisper to Tae. Taehyun smirks seeing his younger brother give him the death stare. You and him were nothing but friends but he liked seeing Kai get so worked up by your natural touchiness.

"Does Kai hate me or something?" you ask Taehyun.

"No, he just has a big crush on you." he says nonchalantly.

You roll your eyes and smack Tae on his chest not believing the man. Kai sees this playful manner between you two and pouts, face turning red with anger wanting small touches from you.

---

Days become weeks, weeks become months. Kai's crush on you hasn't faltered especially when you start appearing in his dreams. Small awkward conversations here and there but he was always around when you visited the house. He never took the chance to ask you out because the way you got close to Taehyun felt like he had no chance.

So, He admires you from afar, noting that you seem to be growing out your hair, watching as you twirl your hair in your dainty fingers. He has studied the facts that you like to drink water after you eat something sweets, which you do often, so when he watches your lips surround and swallow every pocky stick he gets up fixes himself and gives you a glass of water. You're surprised and look at the tall man with the most lovely smile. Kai about loses himself wanting to grab your face to kiss it, but he's civil and simply nods. You chuckle to yourself when you watch him awkwardly walking out of the living room leaving you with the rest of the boys.

You sat there, watching the condensation drip down the cup Kai gave you. Where did that man run off to? You ask yourself, Kai tends to spend the whole time you spent with Tae. He never flirted with you like the other boys but you couldn't help but think his presence and small giggles so warm.

"I'm going to the bathroom, you can continue the game without me." you tell Taehyun and he simply nods too fixated with the television.

Did you really need to use the bathroom? No, your nosiness got the better of you, so badly wanting to know where that beautiful boy has gone. You had never been to any of the mens' rooms other than Taehyun's, but you as you walk down the hall your ears catch a suspicious sound. The door was thoughtlessly cracked open letting small sounds leave what you assumed to be Kai's room. Standing closer the sounds were as clear as day making your face red. Drawn out moans and gasps came from the man. Pushing further into the entrance of the room you were a little jealous of a possible partner Kai was with. You crack the door to hear "ah- y/n" he was touching himself.

Your jaw drops to the floor seeing his family jewels fully erected and exposed. Kai laid there in his bed, luscious dark hair spread out as his head tilted into the pillows, eyes squeezed shut mouth gaped from pleasure. The more you look at the beautiful man fisting his cock the more you felt heated, all you wanted to do is to help him.

Without your conscious consent you blurt "Kai..."

The man stopped his movement face flushed as he looks up to you with your hand on your mouth. He didn't know how to feel see you satisfying himself and obviously think about you. Angry? Embarrassed? Pleased? It was like as if time stopped, you two stared at each other contemplating the next move.

"I-i am so sorry, I just," your gut didn't want to apologize you really wanted to just go ahead and pleasure him yourself. Kai sits up and starts to fix himself to hide, "No.." Kai stops and looks at you confused "I want to see you if you let me."

"Aren't you with Taehyun?"

Your face contorts "No we're just friends, besides he know that you like me.."

Kai's face gets pinker the more you talk, avoiding eye contact. After a moment he lets out his thoughts, "and, what are your thoughts?"

"Thoughts? uh- I honestly didn't believe him until... now" you look at him with a hint of desire in your eyes. It was true how can a pretty boy like him be into you, but seeing Kai like he was moaning your name was a big falter on your doubts. You crawl on his bed getting closer to the man, he was hesitant at first but gives in.

"I like you Kai" you say with a small smile.

Kai's chest wells up feeling like he was dreaming "Y-you do?"

You hum while nodding your head "I think your really nice, and handsome, and now I now you look good in other places." A soft chuckle leaves the mans lips, "Can I end my apology by helping you out?"

All embarrassment aside, you hover over Kai one hand keeping you up while the other hand starts palming his dick. Kai groans, what a fast turn of events, he was just dreaming about you doing this, is he still dreaming?

"Can I kiss you?" Kai nods, puppy dog eyes staring straight into your soul.

You lean in for Kai to deepen the kiss, both of you excited to feel each other up. Your hands find their way under the poorly situated briefs finally touch the man's beautiful dick. Slowly moving your thumb along his wet slit moving down to outline the shaft. Kai moans trying to stop himself from cursing, but he felt so good. You start to move your hands faster pumping his dick making the man fall into his bed. Your lips kiss against his long neck listening to his sensual melodies. Bucking his hips it wasn't long until he came in his briefs and on your hand.

Kai stares at you with a grin on your face leaning back on his bed. You look at the mess he made sticking your tongue out to lap it up. "So, what fantasies do you have of me?"

Kai tilts his head to look at you, you were now lying comfortably on the vacant side of his bed. The man now makes himself hovering of you, chest against your plush mounds, his big hands engulfed your face pecking your lips. "I fantasize having you" he says in a low voice, growing the ache between your legs. You grab at his shirt trying to tear away his layers off but before he complies he gets up to lock the door. Both giggling at the fact that was the reason you two were in this situation. Articles of clothing throw everywhere in the room, Kai kneels between your legs.

The sight before him was glorious, your tits slumped yet nipples perked and your legs spread showing of your glistening pussy. He licks his lips fingers brushing against the damp flesh. The soft touches rouses you clenching around nothing. Sighs filled the room, now Kai was the one enjoying your melodies and they way you moved your body closer to him. With a light please, Kai pumps his dick lining it up to your waiting entrance.

Slowly pushing in stretching your walls until you whine out of fear it won't fit. Kai pecks your lips ensuring you that it will and slowly but surly he bottoms out. Staying still for a moment to get you used to the burning sensation, he begins to thrust. Your hands grip his biceps groaning at the pleasure, his tip found its way to a sweet spot making your nails dig into his skin. Kai watched as your face contorted with brows peaking and mouth gapped wide moaning so addictively. Pride filled the man knowing that you're like this because of him.

Kai advances his dick into you creating heat building up in your body. His staggered thrust was a clear sign of his climax. Thumb brushing your clit and a twitch of his dick had you both come unraveling. Kai falls down beside you panting, you reach for his hand to hold cuddling there in peace. He watches your eyes flutter and chest slowing its movements, elated with the state of bliss. Envy of not having you was washed away from the man, but the jealous rage may soon follow the next time he sees you with his 'guy' friends.

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

read more from: Jealous/Envy TXT Masterlist

taglist: @inkigayocamman, @naoristerling, @incogrio, @f4iryfever

#txt devil #txt imagines #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt x reader #txt x you #txt x y/n #hyuka hard thoughts #hyuka hard hours #hyuka smut #hyuka x reader #huening kai x reader #hueningkai imagines #huening kai x y/n #huening kai x you #huening kai smut

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rodolfoparras · 1 year ago

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But like instead of sugar daddy Price how about sugar baby Price.

Thinking about Sugar Baby!Price

Pairing: John Price x Male Reader

Cw: power dynamic, sugar daddy/ sugar baby dynamic, age gap,

Thinking about Sugar baby! Price who signed up to a sugar baby/ daddy website in an attempt to earn some money on the side but because of his age he only gets a handful of matches and those that he gets never lead to dates.

But one day, after going without a match for a good couple of weeks, he gets matched with someone.

At first Price is confused because in his preferences he clearly states that he would rather be matched with a woman but on his screen there’s a picture of you, a man, who looks to be much younger than he is. By looking further into your profile, he sees that you’re a successful businessman, who’s looking for a date to attend with you to events and he can also see you’ve got no gender preference.

So it couldn’t have been a mistake right?

But Price is still hesitant because he’s never been on a date with a man and he’s heard his fair share of horror stories of sugar daddies from the women that frequented the same site, but money is money and Price finds himself accepting the offer.

However as he drives over to the restaurant he can’t keep doubts from creeping into his head, wondering if there’s a slight chance that you’re expecting a woman on this date.

But all doubts disappear when he walks through the door only to be met with the sight of your smiling face as you go to pull out a chair for him.

So far you seem polite, charming even and you look really handsome. Price might have only dated women before but he can admit when a man looks good. However looks can be deceiving and behind that exterior there might be someone that’s expecting more of him, something more like sex.

Just hearing the word echoing in his head has his throat drying up as he fiddles with the napkin in his hand. “I’d like to make one thing clear, I’m perfectly okay with dates but anything past that-“

He’s abruptly cut off by you, a chore of no’s escaping your lips as you frantically wave your hands in the air.

“Oh no no no I don’t do that I don’t sleep with uh my clients”

Oh, okay. Good.

“I didn’t think-“ he shakes his head, looking down at the table, feeling his neck, ears and cheeks burn.

“Don’t get me wrong,sir-“

“John” the older man corrects, looking up at you beneath long black lashes and you feel heat creep up your own neck, ears and cheek.

“Don’t get me wrong John, you’re very attractive,” you say with a soft smile still displayed on your face, but the only thing he can focus on is your words.

Attractive .

Attractive ?

You found him attractive.

“But I’m just looking for a date to attend with me to different type of events,”

Price who’s still lost in the thought that you find him attractive only nods his head and the two of you proceed to order dinner.

The date goes exceptionally well. For whatever reason you seem more interested in hearing him talk about himself rather than talking about yourself.

Although it may sound wrong in someone’s ear, he can’t help but love how much attention you’re paying to him.

You even drive him home instead of asking your Chauffeur to do so and you don’t leave until he’s safe inside his house.

When he goes inside he almost feels like a teenager, face flushed hair mussed, hands jittery and you haven’t even done anything!

And when he gets a text asking for another date he happily agrees to it.

Date after date and you continue to stick to your words, never initiating anything that might make him uncomfortable but for whatever reason Price is unable to shake the feeling of disappointment that starts to grow inside of him.

The doubts that have made home in his mind start telling him that maybe you don’t even find him attractive.

Price isn’t stupid he knows he isn’t young anymore, that he isn’t the most desirable bachelor in the world but that doesn’t mean that it hurts any less knowing that you don’t find him attractive.

However things take a turn one day, when the two of you are trying out suits that he can wear for an event.

As he stands there in the changing room, looking at his reflection in the mirror, he can’t help but feel a surge of confidence running through his body.

For the first time in a while he feels attractive. You’d gone out of your way to get a tailored suit for him even though he’d vehemently denied it, fearing it’d be too expensive and that he had a perfectly fine suit somewhere buried inside of his closet.

But now that he’s looking at himself he can’t help but feel immensely thankful for your kind gesture because the suit hugs his curves so well, the rich black color compliments his skin tone beautifully, and there’s even a pop of blue in his pockets and buttons that match the color of his eyes.

Prior to this you even made sure he got a haircut and trimmed his mutton chops.

“I have to admit, I’ll miss these curls” you say while running a hand through his sandy brown hair, and once again he feels heat creep up his cheeks neck and ears “But Marisa knows what she’s doing”

And he couldn’t agree more, whilst looking at himself in the mirror, hair much shorter now and slicked back, with facial hair trimmed and showing off the sharpness of his features.

When he walks out to show you the outfit, he hears a small gasp escape your lips while your eyes trail down his body.

Once again he can feel heat creeping up on him but he also feels a surge of confidence- a sense of power for having affected you in this way.

You finally manage to pull your eyes away from him, awkwardly clearing your throat as you go to speak “you look good John, really good” you say the second part quieter.

He manages to respond with a smooth thank you, tone sounding like the one he only ever used to charm his late wife, even biting back a smirk while saying that.

On the night of the event the two of you almost seem to be glued to each other. You don’t do anything to overstep boundaries but he can see the way your gaze is trained on him, the way you keep almost a possessive hand on his hip and the compliments that just keep rolling off your tongue while chatting with him.

When the night nears to an end and you’re walking him to his door he can’t help but get lost in his thoughts, in the feeling of you arm slung over his shoulder the smell of your cologne and the compliments that never seem to stop rolling off your tongue.

It all ends with him uttering the words “would you like to come in?” you freeze in your step and fall silent for a moment before finding your words again “Are you sure we don’t have to-

“I want to” he croaks out, throat suddenly feeling dry “I really really want to”

#there will be more parts Mwah #I didn’t want to jam it all into one #you have found my weekness anonie bc I love this trope #call of duty #john price #john price x reader #john price x male reader #captain john price #captain john price x male reader #captain john price x reader #top male reader #dom male reader #sub male character #bottom male character #adding this tag bc eventually it’ll get there

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mustainegf · 23 days ago

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Hi Elena!

I took a deep breath and assembled my guts to send a non-anonymous request 😂.

It’s the classic trope of being James’s controversially younger GF. She has a secret insta account so she occasionally checks the comments. And many people criticize her for being a gold digger and using James to get famous (despite she got no official social media accounts and doesn’t do events, unless she’s there with James). But she’s mostly saddened because they criticize him and call him a pervert for being with a much younger woman. So she decides to break up with him for his sake and public image, but never tells him it was because of cyber bullying.

And maybe a few weeks after the break up, one of other band members shows him the comments and some fans are celebrating that they broke up. And he realizes the true reason for the break up? And in the end, they reconcile and maybe he makes a statement asking everyone to respect his personal life?

I’m a big fan your blog, so hopefully you’ll like the request sgd will consider writing a story 😊. No pressure though))

𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ²⁰²³

Just all attention that I never wanted, and people obviously stared, judged, and picked apart everything that I was doing, making me super exposed in the most unimaginable way. But yeah, that is a given when you're dating somebody like James Hetfield. Perhaps his name fills up stadiums and blows up newsfeeds.

So looking back, I didn't know what lay ahead as I met him. It was obviously just me and him at first, laughing at little stuff and having a good time over music and life. It was like finally, here's someone who understands me in a way nobody ever has. But man, it all flipped once we went public.

It just seemed like, overnight, it wasn't just us anymore. I never thought it would blow up this bad. People thought I was in it for all the wrong reasons, that I was a gold digger trying to leech off of his fame. But to be honest, the worst of it all wasn't even what they said about me, it was the stuff they said about him.

"He's a pervert."

"How could he be with someone so young?

"They look ridiculous together."

All that that was commented on, I could have completely avoided. I didn't have any social media other than this private Instagram for my use. Yet, honestly, I'd be lying if I said that I never went onto it. I would scroll through and read the comments of some random fan posting in search of some sort of acceptance. But of course, it was just the same brutal tale, the fans tore into James, calling him a creep for even dating anyone of my age.

Man, that hurt. It was not about me, the rumors and all the whispering around, I could handle it. It just was for him, you know? He was a legend, he'd given so much to the world with his music. And now, it felt like people were just using me to take shots at his legacy.

He had totally missed those comments. James wasn't the type to spend too much time online. The real world was sufficient for him.

He had been so nice to me, really supportive, and utterly clueless about all the hate coming our way. He was of the opinion that what we had was strong and would get us through anything. I wanted that to be true, too. Yet, with every post claiming him a creep, or that he's lost all his dignity, I was just simply ruining his reputation.

I liked him so much, and because of that, I made the toughest decision: I broke up with him.

I didn't tell him what it really was for. I just told him I needed space. Of course, he didn't get it. How could he? Everything was all right; there wasn't a fight or at least any huge issue.

I could definitely see the confusion and pain in his eyes as I walked out that day. It really got to me, but I kept telling myself, it's all for his good. He would be much better off in the long run rather than having me holding him back in front of his fans.

The weeks that succeeded seemed to be like a vacuum. I missed him more than I had ever thought I would: how he hummed a tune of some old song while cooking or how he stared at me as though nobody existed in a room full of people. I never changed my mind but kept my distance and followed his movements through whispers of mutual friends, sometimes in the news and other media.

So, one day, this was the fan post I came across from my secret Instagram feed: an appreciation post due to our breakup, saying, "Finally, James can move on and find someone better." Plenty of those comments, cheering on the end of us and acting like they knew what was good for him. Well to be frank, part of me was relieved; I did make the right choice.

But another part of me kinda felt gross, I guess. These people didn't know him like I did. They didn't see the dude behind the music, the one that'd hug me tight after a long day and make everything feel okay.

A few weeks passed, then finally I heard from James himself, by that time I had thought he'd moved on, found his peace in the break up. One of the band members showed him the comments, Lars, if I can recall. I didn't expect that. I thought all the poisonous words of the fans would never find their way to him, that he would never have to see just how cruel people could be. But Lars showed him, and suddenly everything came back.

I got his call pretty soon afterwards. His voice sounded just like it was then, chilled yet serious, in a continuous effort to sort out something big.

He asks, "Why didn't you just tell me.?"

Well, I played the role of clueless well, like I didn't know what he was talking about, but James really wasn't buying that. He got it, saw comments, accusations, those low remarks, judgments, and thus put them together. He knew why I had bailed.

"I thought it was best that way," I finally managed to respond.

"For who?" he asked in a voice that was slightly hoarse.

"For you," I said; my voice was all choked up. "I didn't want people constantly putting you down because of me."

There was nothing but silence on the other side of the line for a long period of time. Then he spoke again, "I don't care what they say, you know?"

All I wanted was to just have the ability to trust him, but I knew words cut, even when people act like it did not hurt. I knew how committed he was with his legacy, how the fans looked up to him. I just did not want to be that to ruin it.

"I care," I said softly. "I just can't handle them ripping you to shreds because of me."

After some time, the reply came in the form of James's soft, subdued voice, "I want you, not them."

This well of my tears, you know the ones that almost spill but hold back. He was too good, you know. He was so understanding, and all the time. Yet, I did not know whether this could mend that which already was messed up.

Days later, James gave a statement to the public. He did not name anybody, but it was like you could read between the lines. He was asking for respect, not just for himself but for the people surrounding him, he owed no one explanation for whom he chose to love, this is his own thing. And honestly, if people are not able to handle it, then maybe they were never true fans to begin with.

The weight of his words was much heavier than what I could ever have imagined. Just words, but powerful words,he was defending me, defending us, in a manner I couldn't even have imagined, and it suddenly felt like this cross of public opinion wasn't weighing on me as much as I thought it had been.

After that statement, James called me up again, and this time I didn't give it a second thought. We met, and the very moment I saw him, everything fell in place once again, the stress, the distance, just gone in his arms.

"I never wanted to hurt you," I said, my voice all shaky.

"You didn't," he said, reaching and pulling me close. "I only wish you had told me sooner."

Of course, people judge and whisper behind our backs, but honestly, that doesn't weigh me down like it used to, since now I have James with me, and I know what we have is tougher than anything those random people can say.

This time I am definitely hanging on.

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ashwhowrites · 1 year ago

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I just saw you wrote a Dad's best friend! Hopper, and I was wondering if you could write a Dad's best friend! Eddie Munson x Harrington! Reader, like what would happen if Steve's daughter falls for Eddie, who's her dad's friend, and maybe Steve finds out about it, Idk, I just thought abt that

.....I kinda love this? I wrote this kinda turned on so it's very sexual

I'm not going to try to figure out the correct math for the age difference so the reader is of age and that's what we are going with

⚠️smutty, age difference

Dad's best friend

Steve and Eddie went back to high school, but the friendship died out after the events of the upside down. Eddie moved out of Hawkins and went for the rockstar life. Steve stayed back and had a family of his own.

Steve hadn't seen Eddie in almost twenty years, but they kept in touch. Eddie wasn't married or had any kids, just touring the world. Steve had a daughter, Y/N. And she reminded Steve of Eddie a lot. She liked the darker colors, listening to her music on the highest volume, and pushing Steve's buttons.

But when Eddie called asking for a place to crash for a while, Steve didn't waste a second to take him in.

~~~

Steve sat next to Eddie at the kitchen counter as Eddie told him stories about life on the road. Eddie was in the middle of a story when a younger girl walked into the kitchen, coming in from the front door. A tiny skirt with lacey tights that disappeared into black boots. A tight tank top showing off her chest perfectly. Eddie had a feeling he shouldn't be looking, Was this Steve's girlfriend or something? Eddie tried to look away, but his eyes ran down the girl's body, his jeans tightening when he saw a tattoo lingering up her thigh.

"Um Y/N, would you mind changing? I have a guest here." Steve groaned, not surprised by his daughter's choice of clothes.

"Seems to me that he isn't bothered." She smirked, a wink in Eddie's direction. But listened to her dad's orders and headed upstairs to change. Eddie felt his face turn red as he was caught. A hand in his lap as he readjusted himself.

"Sorry about her, she likes to push boundaries." Steve joked, standing up as he grabbed himself another beer.

"No worries. Is she your girlfriend?" Eddie asked the question that was stuck in his head. Steve always got the hot ones. And this girl was by far the hottest girl Eddie had seen. And he's slept with countless women and men on his tour. And none matched her.

Steve had an uncomfortable look on his face as he said, "No...she's my daughter." Eddie nearly spit out the beer he was sipping on. His eyes bulging out of his head.

"She's what? She doesn't look...what?" Eddie was lost. She didn't resemble Steve at all.

"She looks just like her mom, but we got a divorce and I got full custody when Y/N was ten. I don't think she enjoys living with her dad all the time." Steve joked.

Eddie's head continued spinning all night. He stayed in the guest bedroom, the door cracked. He could see her door through the small opening. Band posters covered her door and pictures of her friends. Eddie hated the way he felt his cock growing hard as he thought of her behind the door.

It was wrong. She was Steve's daughter and too young. But the small skirt and tattoo flashed through Eddie's mind as he slipped his hand into his boxers. He closed his eyes as he pictured her. The way she'd look riding him in that tiny skirt, having to stay quiet so Steve didn't hear them. Eddie bit his lip so his moans didn't leave his mouth. Working himself closer to an orgasm, lost in the feeling. Cumming in his hand as he breathed through his orgasm. He opened his eyes and sat up. He planned to go to the bathroom to clean up but he froze when he saw her standing at his door, a smirk creeping through the tiny crack of the door. He was frozen as she walked back to her room and closed the door.

~~~

The next morning Eddie walked into the kitchen, Steve was making breakfast. Eddie greeted him as he sat at the table. A hot cup of coffee was placed in front of him, pink nails caught his eye. He looked up and there she was. That same smirk on her face as she sat across from him. She didn't say anything and neither did he. But his eyes devoured the way she looked in her long T-shirt and tiny shorts.

"How was the first night? Is the bed comfy enough?" Steve asked, placing down the eggs as he took a seat at the end of the table.

Eddie blushed at the question, nodding his head as he sipped his coffee. "Yeah, it was fine."

"Y/N didn't keep you up, did she? She likes to stay up late and make noise." Steve joked, punching his daughter's arm lightly.

"I didn't keep him up..on purpose." She smiled.

~~~

Within a month, she was driving Eddie insane. Her small outfits, walking around in towels and making comments. Eddie felt like he was being tortured but he loved it. But there were moments where it felt like they were connecting. Conversations on the front step as they shared a cigarette. Movie nights where Steve passed out a minute in, so they talked through the rest of it. She played her games, but she also opened up to him and he saw all the layers that were made of her.

"I'll be back on Monday, please be nice to Eddie and help him out," Steve said as he grabbed his suitcase.

"I will!" Y/N promised as she hugged her dad goodbye. Once he walked out the door, she raced to her bedroom. Eddie was out at the moment, and it gave her the perfect amount of time.

~~~

Eddie pulled into the driveway, a little confused to see Steve's car was gone. He walked in and yelled out for anyone, but no one replied. He shrugged his shoulders as he walked up to his room. He opened his door but froze on the spot.

Y/N sat on her knees on his bed. A red lacey bra on her chest and red underwear to match. Red bows on her thighs as it connected to her garter. Fishnets covered her legs. She leaned over so her breasts practically spilled out of the bra.

"Cat got your tongue?" She asked, a pout on her face as she sat up.

Eddie was trying his best to look somewhere else, but he wanted to soak her in. Her skin looked soft and warm. Her skin glowed and looked perfect, he wanted to destroy it with bite marks.

"What are you doing?" Eddie finally got out. She laughed as she stood up. Now walking towards him.

"Trying to fuck you, isn't it obvious?" She joked, her hands running up and down his chest. She teased him with her fingernails as she turned her head to stare at him.

"Your dad.." he started but Y/N cut him off. "He's gone for the weekend. Don't worry about him. I know you want this and I know you think of me when you jerk off."

Eddie hated that he was caught. "I think of you when I touch myself too." She whispered as she reached her hands into his hair. Tugging slightly, falling into the sound of his grunt. Eddie's mind was going blank, just the images of how she looked fucking herself to him. Just a few feet away from his room.

"You're his daughter, this can't happen." He finally got out, removing her hands from him. Forcing himself to step back and collect his thoughts. He was older and he needed to act like it.

"Forget about him! I like you and you like me, don't you?" She asked. Eddie knew he did, it went way past sexual. She was smart and creative. He loved spending time with her, the nights she was sweet and they just got to talk. He learned so much about her and he felt himself falling for her. But he couldn't do that to Steve.

The silence was eating her alive. Did she read him wrong? She could have sworn he was interested in her. The way he stared at her when she talked, the way he always gave her more of the blanket during movie nights. She had a crush on him and she made it obvious. He never seemed uncomfortable or wanted to turn her away. Until now, at least.

"You don't, do you?" She whispered. Embarrassment fled through her body like a flood. She felt like an idiot. Standing there in lingerie she purposely bought for her dad's fucking best friend. How could she be so dumb?

She felt the need to cry, but she forced it back as she quickly pushed past him and raced into her bedroom. She slammed the door and raced to change into normal clothes. She felt the tears falling as she yanked the lingerie off of herself. She felt like the material was burning her.

She froze when she heard knocks on her door.

"Y/N, can we talk?" Usually his voice made her melt, but it made her feel cold.

"No" she spat as she shoved the lingerie into the trash.

"Please? I'm sorry! We just can't happen. I'm your dad's friend and he took me in. I can't fuck that up and I can't ruin your relationship with him. You deserve someone who is put together and someone your age." He tried to explain, but all she heard was the rejection. He didn't like her. He didn't want her. All those nights where she thought he felt something wasn't real.

Eddie sighed as he heard silence on the other side of the door. He was an idiot. He knew he was making the right choice for her. She was young and didn't know what she was getting into with him.

~~~

Eddie didn't see her at all the next morning, she never left her room. Not for food, the bathroom, or anything. He knocked every hour but nothing. He was really worried about her, but he knew it wasn't his place to worry about her.

It was Saturday night and Eddie ordered a pizza, he got one for her as well, if she made her way downstairs. As he set it on the counter, the house phone rang. He picked it up once he saw Steve's name.

"Hey! Is Y/N there? She won't pick up her phone." Steve said, Eddie quickly talked to him and walked up the stairs.

Knocking on her door, "Your dad is on the phone!" He yelled through the door. And to his surprise, she opened the door.

A dead look on her face as she grabbed the phone and slammed the door. But Eddie was confused about her outfit. She was dressed up. She was in a tiny black dress, tights and those boots again. Her makeup is done with red lips and winged eyeliner. Her hair rested on her shoulders.

He waited outside the door, hearing her hang up as she opened the door. Knocking right into Eddie, not expecting him to still be there.

"eavesdropping much?" She spat as she walked past him and headed for the stairs.

"Where are you going?" He asked, following her down the stairs. Hating that his cock was growing hard under his sweatpants as the dress rolled up her thighs.

"A party." She kept it short as she grabbed her keys.

"Do you plan to drink? I can pick you up." Eddie offered, but the same dead look was on her face.

"I can take care of myself, and I don't need a babysitter." She spat as she went out the door.

~~~

Eddie tried to wait up in case she called. But it was nearly two in the morning and he was exhausted. He cleaned up the kitchen and living room. And headed to his room.

He fell asleep fast, waking up when he heard the front door slam and giggles echoing through the empty house. He sighed as he rolled out of bed, throwing on a shirt. He opened his door and caught the shadows of two people bumping around as they worked their way into her room.

He had a sick feeling in his stomach and a feeling of absolute rage filling his bones. He flicked on the hallway light, his eyes glaring as he took in the boy who was groping her with no care in the world. Her dress flipped up, and Eddie could see the familiar laced underwear from the other night. It was almost like a punch in his gut. He didn't like knowing she dressed up for someone else, the same way she tried for him.

"Privacy please." She snickered, shoving the boy into her room as she slammed the door behind her.

Eddie wanted to break down the door and grab that asshole by his throat. And beat the shit out of him, but he couldn't. He needed to get his jealousy in check.

He shut his door and got back in bed. Within seconds he could hear her moaning down the hallway. She was as angelic as he thought she would be. She sounded memorizing, he almost forgot that he wasn't pulling the sounds from her. But the reminder traveled to his ears when he heard her moaning a name that wasn't his. He couldn't tell if she was purposely torturing him or if she was truly having the best sex of her life. He prayed it was the first one. He prayed that she wasn't enjoying a second of it. That she was picturing Eddie instead. Her eyes were closed and she drowned in the fantasy of Eddie touching her in the ways they both wanted more than anything.

~~~

The next morning, Eddie was worried about seeing her. But Steve came home tomorrow and he'd instantly pick up on the weird energy between them.

So he told himself to be an adult and leave his room. He heard sounds in the kitchen, he slowly walked towards the sounds. Breathing a sigh of relief to see her alone she mixed her coffee. Eddie felt a lump in his throat as he saw the marks all over her skin. The skin Eddie wanted to mark as his. Now it was covered in some asshole from a party that probably didn't treasure her body the way it deserved.

She didn't say a word, and neither did he. He slid next to her to make his coffee but stopped when she placed the mug in front of him. Already filled and made the way he liked. He smiled at the action and went to say thank you but she already walked out.

He quickly followed her, stopping her bedroom door before it shut.

"Can we talk?" He asked again

She sighed and walked to her bed. She sat on it as she sipped her coffee. He followed behind her. His stomach was in knots as he saw her dress and lingerie scattered all around the floor.

"I didn't mean to hurt you." He admitted, keeping his eyes on her as she looked down at her cup. She shrugged her shoulders, "I kinda hurt myself, Eddie. It's okay." She said

"Why do you think that?" He asked, he wasn't sure what she meant by hurting herself.

"I mean that I had this whole idea that you liked me and you were attracted to me. I thought maybe you wanted me in the same way I wanted you. But I figured you didn't want to make any moves since you didn't want to be disrespectful to my dad. So I thought if I made the move for us...I don't know." She scoffed. Hearing herself out loud reminded her how dumb she was acting.

"But, you turned me away," she said sadly, finally looking at him. His eyes stared into hers, seeing the slight water that was filling. "I bought the sexiest lingerie I could find for you, and made an absolute fool of myself by throwing myself at you like a desperate whore. " she laughed at herself, her eyes now back on the cup. "I hurt myself by thinking you fell for me too."

"Y/N..." he tried but she cut him off. "But you were right. I mean my dad would never agree to this. He would hate me even more than he does now. And I'd make him hate you, and you are the only friend he has now. I need to stop ruining his life." She cried, wiping her tears as she cuddled into herself.

"He doesn't hate you at all. He adores you." Eddie tried but she shook her head. "He does! And he just wants to protect you."

"Thanks." She smiled. "He's back tomorrow so I guess I should clean up." She said, Eddie took the hint and got up. He walked to the door but slowly turned to her. The sight of her bruised skin and clothes on the floor reminded him of what happened last night. A reminder that she'd always be someone else's.

"Y/N?" She looked up, a small smile on her face as she encouraged him to talk. She watched as he set down his cup, walked to her, and placed hers on the desk beside her.

"What are you doing?" She asked, but he didn't say a word. Just looking into her eyes as he pushed her back on the bed, she sat still. Praying if she didn't move a muscle, he wouldn't stop what he was going to do.

Her whole body fired up like electricity as he crawled on top of her and smashed his lips on hers. He hungrily tasted her and gripped her hips as he grinded against her. Eddie never felt this way for anyone, ever. It's been years of being lonely on the road, wishing for someone to be there with him through everything. If that was her, he wasn't going to let Steve stop him.

She was melting into her sheets. Everything she was dying to have was happening. The feeling of his lips attacking hers, his cock rubbing against her thigh. His smell filled her nose. Her hands traveled to his hair, yanking it as she shoved her tongue in his mouth. His hard body was against hers as his tongue moved inside her mouth.

He pulled away, breathing heavily as his forehead rested against hers. She stared at him in awe as she breathed against him.

"Sure this is what you want?" He whispered, his eyes soaking in her face. His right hand cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking her skin softly. She was beautiful.

"Yes." She said instantly, her hands moving under his shirt, feeling his forbidden skin under her nails.

He pulled back and removed his shirt, she followed his movement and yanked off hers. Leaving her in her underwear as she watched him remove the rest of his clothes.

She felt her insides burn and cunt twitch as she looked at his hard cock. She could feel her mouth-watering, his hands yanking off her underwear and shoving her thighs apart. She watched as he got on his knees, dragging her closer to his mouth. She was panting before his lips even touched her. He spit on her clit and rubbed his spit around. She was clawing at her sheets, he didn't waste a second before his tongue was moving against her. He ate her out like he'd been starving for months. She was a panting mess underneath him, her teasing act out the window as she felt her body disappearing.

"Jesus Eddie." She moaned she's never felt such pleasure before and he's been eating her out for a solid two minutes at most.

Hearing his name fall from her lips had his cock twitching. He almost felt like he could cum from eating her out. She tasted amazing. He didn't give a fuck about letting guys her age have her. They wouldn't know how to please her. He knew he could make her cum better than anyone. He was lost in how wet she was, wanting to suck her dry.

"Gonna!" She squirmed, her thighs clamping around his head as she came. Eddie didn't pull away, continuing his attack on her cunt as she tried to pull him off. But the longer he went, the weaker she became. Lying dead against the bed as she twitched and squirmed from his tongue. Almost like she's done when he decides.

After what felt like hours, he pulled away. His chin soaked as he smiled up at her. She couldn't tell if she was smiling back at him or not, she couldn't feel a thing.

She felt him moving her body further up the bed, her head against the pillows as he was on top of her again. His forehead was against hers as he slowly pushed himself inside of her. She felt her eyes rolling in the back of her head as her cunt stretched to take him in. He kissed her nose softly as he pushed himself in. Giving her a second to adjust. She breathed through her nose as she gripped his bicep.

"Look at you, taking me so well." He praised, kissing her lips. He waited a few more seconds before he started moving in and out of her. Clenching his jaw as he felt her cunt sucking him back in.

"Faster, please." She whined. He smashed his lips against hers again as he thrust inside of her. He was going fast and hard, but she loved it. She clawed at his back, moaning as he hit every spot inside of her effortlessly. He filled her perfectly, it made his head spin.

He pulled away to move his attention to her neck. Jealousy in his bones when he spotted the marks. She gasped as he lifted her leg and put it over his shoulder. Somehow pounding into her harder. She couldn't speak, or form any thoughts. He was fucking her straight dead in the head. He latched his mouth right on top of the hickey, forming his own on top of it. He knew it was sore by the hissing that left her lips. But he didn't care. He would cover every mark she had with his own.

She felt a small smirk forming on her face, realizing he was putting his mark over the ones from before. She found his jealousy incredibly attractive. And she loved that it made him fuck her harder.

His mouth stayed on her neck, as his hand moved down to her clit. Rubbing her clit fast as he felt himself growing close. Her mouth dropped open as she felt herself clenching around him. His fingers on her clit was practically dragging the orgasm out of her.

She couldn't even form the words, just digging her nails into his skin as she soaked his cock in her cum. Panting against him her thighs shook.

Eddie immediately came right after, feeling her cum soak him completely, and sent him over. He trusted slowly inside of her as he came. Emptying himself inside of her, he pecked her lips as he slid out.

"Oh fuck." He moaned, leaning back on his legs as he watched his cum leak out of her. He pushed it back inside with his fingers, loving the way she shook and tried to swat his hand away. He leaned into her, "Shh, pretty girls deserve to keep all my cum." She nodded as she allowed him to finger the cum back inside of her. She felt used and abused and loved it.

The sun was bright through her curtains, framing Eddie in a perfect way that she couldn't take her eyes off.

"You're so pretty." She sighed, her hands tracing his face. He laughed as he grabbed her hands from his face and kissed her knuckles.

"You're pretty too." He said.

He rested next to her, bringing her in his arms. Her back to his chest as she closed her eyes.

"I fell for you too." He whispered.

~~~

"Eddie! He's coming home any minute!" She laughed, trying to remove Eddie's arms from her. But he was stronger than she was. His arms wrapped around her waist as he kissed her neck.

"Fine fine!" He pouted, allowing her to put space between them as she finished making dinner. Eddie moved to the table and sat down. Watching her make their plates for dinner. Her marks were covered in makeup, not wanting to give her dad a heart attack, but Eddie missed seeing them.

"I'm home!" Steve entered, a smile on his face as Y/N hugged him.

"Perfect timing! I just finished dinner for us!" She said, placing the plates down on the table.

"I'll bring these to your room, you sit and eat." Y/N offered. Steve looked at her weirdly but accepted the offer.

He sat down at the table and dug into his plate. Eddie got up to grab a beer, stretching to get it off the top shelf.

Steve's eyes landed on Eddie's back, the bottom of his shirt rising, and red scratches were all down his back.

"I hope you didn't fuck someone with my daughter in the house." Steve scolded, his eyes hard as Eddie froze.

"Excuse me?" Eddie chuckled, turning around to see a displeased Steve.

"Your back? It's covered in marks. I'm fine with you having people over, but please don't have sex with my daughter across the hall." Steve said.

"Right....don't have sex with your daughter...when she's across the hall," Eddie repeated.

What Steve didn't know couldn't kill him, right?

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @inesven

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson smut x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x harrington!reader #older eddie munson x reader #ashwhowrites

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sanjisblackasswife · 2 years ago

Text

𝙲/𝚌𝚔𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚕𝚏𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙾𝚗𝚎 𝙿𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎

Ft. Gol D. Roger, Rayleigh, Ben Beckman, Shanks (This can be when they were younger or older idc)

Black Fem Reader in Mind

CW: Cockwarming, Fingering, Kissing, Dirty Talk(?)

Roger

Gol D is such a simple man when it comes to you and your pussy.

If you offer to sit down on his cock as he drinks the night away he’ll be over the moon

“Roger, we’ll be in front of the crew though…”

“Yeah, well…we’ll also be in a corner and you’ll have this pretty dress on.”

His infamous smile showing his deep dimples behind that nose hair of his never failed to make you roll your eyes and agree to his slutty plans.

You and him now cozied up as the party goes on his ship, his tip softly hitting spots in your pussy that makes you softly whimper whenever he adjusts his hips in his seats

“You’re like my personal little heater.” He hums drunkly in your ear, nearly about to grope your breast but you slap his hand

“Shut up Roger!”

Rayleigh

Big…Big..he’s so big.

It’s not the length that Rayleigh has that gets you it’s the GIRTH.

Whenever he offers you to sit down and say still it’s purely out of punishment.

“Seems I spoiled you too much today huh?”

You squeeze down at his words, his musky natural scent and his breath hitting your ear as you sat so painfully still on his lap as he read—

“Porn. Really…you’re reading fucking porn.”

“Ssssh.” He kisses the pout you have on your lips and a firm swat landed on your butt right after making your nude body jolt against his. “‘M reading, now.”

You knew if you rocked Your hips against his you’d be in trouble. You knew, and he almost read your mind from the glint in your eyes staring down at the wet mess connecting you both.

Rayleigh knew you wouldn’t last keeping him warm. You never do, so when he felt your pathetic ruts against his body he smiled. Giving you what your pretty supple body wanted this while time.

Picking you up swiftly you hold onto his wide frame, feeling him place you on his fluffy bed to then hold your legs as far apart as they can be. He spits on your little clit, thumbing it to soothe the tense feeling of his cock still inside you.

He was right. He spoiled you too much.

Ben

You both love to do it after sex

Purely because it lead to more sex.

Benny is an affectionate/touchy man when it comes to you. Your body and the softness of it always gives him a cloud 9 kinda of feeling that he refuses to let go of

“Stay.” Is all he says when he keeps you under him, his head in your breast, every once in a while licking/kissing on your bruised nipples from prior events.

As full as you already were, the way how his body caged you in, the way his hair felt in your hands, his warmth and weight. You didn’t mind it.

Sometime he will switch positions, leaving you on top and him leaning on the headboard so he can smoke, he’ll rub your nude/sweaty back to soothe you back to sleep.

However—

“Whatcha doin’?…hm?”

He felt you grind against him a little, kissing his neck, maybe it was the hint smell of your pussy in his breath, the way his fingers lingered on your ass when he rubbed you, or maybe you’re just THAT needy but—

“Wan’ more…” Your whispered, embarrassment creeped in your face realizing you both been at it since this evening and its such a late hour.

Benny smiles, bringing your chin to his mouth and shotgunning you before both of your tongues played with each other. His kisses were always so sweet, but messy.

“Use me then…” Benny laid flat on his back, one arm behind his head, “‘M all yours.”

Ben was never a man to tell you no

Shanks

You swear it’s because he is a pervert but really he loves to be close to you.

It usually never ends with sex, he can fall alseep right then and there when he plunges inside you.

It was a rough day, running around, training, stealing, you name it. It was a lot for Shanks.

You both are in your shared room, getting ready for bed after taking a quiet calm bath together, he watches you lather your body up, Damn—-you looked so good

But he was so tired, he didn’t want to ask you to ride him, it seemed selfish to use you for his own satisfaction but

He needed you.

“Sweetheart…Can…can you sleep with no panties tonight?”

Usually you would have scoffed at his offer, sounding like a pervert again but his voice was tired and his eyes were drowsy. You approach him, cupping his damp cheek and he leans in to kiss you slowly.

“Of course.”

He gave you his shirt to wear and you did, he decided to just stay in the nude.

You lay on your side, and almost immediately when shanks gets in the bed he plants his lips on yours, passionately kissing you, leaving you to moan in his mouth as he plays with your clit a little.

“So wet already…” He marvels, lifting your leg a little he shares a “fuck” with you, you’re so warm and tight, so eager to suck him inside.

You can hear his sigh of relief as he settles inside you from behind.

“Thank you baby.” He pecks your neck, you were exactly what he needed after today

He knew in the morning he’d have to thank you with his tongue.

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hisunshiine · 2 years ago

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— a wager of lords & love | myg

♔ pairing: noble!yoongi x noble!reader

♔ au/genre: regency era au, arranged marriage au, s2l, fluff, smut, angst

♔ rating: M

♔ wc: 6,813

⚔ warnings: reader’s mom is not alive, era-appropriate sexism, sex jokes, pet names, bedding ceremony, explicit smut: fingering, marking, light breast play, oral (female receiving), vaginal penetration, multiple orgasms, loss of virginity, you will fall so hard for yoongi.

♔ an: this story was written for Leah | @colormepurplex2 as part of the BangtanWHQ Valentine’s Event “Picture Perfect”. Thank you to my beta readers: @downbad4yoongi, @peachiilovesot7, and @moonleeai; this story was so much fun to write. Your feedback, as always, was valuable to making not only this story at it’s best but also making my day better when reading your comments. I love regency era au’s and this one only made me fall even more madly in love with Yoongi, and I hope you will too! Please enjoy!

“What in heaven’s name did I do last night?”

Yoongi groans as he rolls over in his plush bed sheets, sunlight streaming through the window at an ungodly hour. Ungodly, because he never sleeps in this late, but the Scottish whisky and late night at Lord Kim Namjoon’s manor has made him act out of character in more ways than one.

*flashback to the previous evening*

“Yoongi, it has been too long since we’ve gotten together properly. You must come celebrate. It’s not every day that one as young as I is able to acquire more wealth than what feels like the King himself can own.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes from where he stands across the study from his large oak desk, hand gripping the telephone to his ear as he leans closer to the box on the wall to reply.

“I have a plethora of worries, Namjoon, and none of them can be solved by celebrating your wealth.”

“I beg to differ! Come! Have a drink and make merry, partake in some illicit pleasantries. I am sure that’s just what you need to clear your mind and find a resolution.”

“I doubt I will have a resolution by the night’s end, but against my better judgment, I will be there.”

And Yoongi made sure to keep his promise, strolling into the large manor filled to the brim with the most darling of debutantes from Daehurst to Ilsansterchire. He recalls the way the single women seemed to throw themselves at him, all fluttering eyelashes and demure smiles as if they were captivated by his looks and not the wealth they knew lay in wait for his future bride.

The knowledge of his arrival spread like wildfire through the ballroom and Yoongi had felt himself grow flustered as a gaggle of pristine beauties crowded around him to fight for his attention. He kept his face nonplussed despite the rising anxiety creeping along his outer extremities and towards his chest. Luckily, the arrival of the Earl of Upton Busan and the Marquees of Gwangchester helped reduce the number of women in his presence.

Yoongi remembers pretending to be summoned by a friend, escaping into what he thought was an empty parlor that belonged to the late Lord Kim, but the sitting room, with two walls filled from floor to ceiling with books of all sizes and colors was, in fact, occupied. The large oak desk off to the side held an older gentleman, who also seemed to be happy in his solitude, hiding from the revelry.

The man moved a jewel-encrusted chessman across a marble chess board before looking up at Yoongi, a slight nod of his head summoning Yoongi over to join him. He produced a bottle of Smokehead Islay single-malt scotch whisky that he’d been nursing, poured Yoongi a hefty serving into a Glencairn whisky glass, which he promptly swirled to open up the aromas for full appreciation before downing the entire portion.

He knows that this was the catalyst for the conversation of what was bothering him, and so Yoongi, lips loosened from his liquor intake, shared to whom he found out was the Marquees of Seoulshire, his predicament. How his late father’s younger brother, jealous of his position, was sowing distrust in the elder’s bloodline, touting the fact that his eldest son was already married and with an heir on the way, when Yoongi had yet to take a woman’s hand in marriage despite being five years older than his cousin.

Typically, this would not be such a strange thing; many male nobility did not wed until their late twenties, and Yoongi only recently turned his twenty-ninth year, but with his estranged uncle vying to take over the wealth and power of the entire family following his father’s passing, Yoongi had to procure a wife, and fast.

Bonding with the elder nobleman, both introverts sequestered themselves with flowing, piquant beverages, and a small miniature of the only daughter of the Marquees produced for viewing, and thus, a drunken deal was struck for the hand of his only daughter to be wed in one week’s time to the Duke of Daehurst, Min Yoongi. That only daughter being none other than…

You stare at your reflection in the full length mirror. The white dress, with its cut right beneath your bosom, is stifling despite its beauty, and the body of the gown falls along your figure gently. The sleeves are loosely capped, a lace frill edging the cuffs and the line of your decolletage. Your hair is pinned up, with a tiara inlaid with precious stones as the centerpiece to secure the veil flowing down your back in place.

The gloved hand of your maid of honor, Eleanor, who you lovingly refer to as Ellie, reaches up to fluff the veil, nervous energy displacing itself as she holds back from igniting your ire again. You have only just calmed down as your lady’s maid, Charity, places the last of the thrown perfume bottles back on the vanity. You had catapulted them for good reason, you believe. For in a few minutes, you, the unmarried daughter of the Marquees of Seoulshire, will walk down the aisle in the Duke of Daehurst’s manor, towards a man you have never spoken to—have never met—where your traitorous father plans to give you away to become the Duchess of Daehurst.

“Lady Eleanor, will you please take your spot at the door?” Charity asks quietly, following a quick rap on the door, and you feel your heart begin a mad dash within the cavity of your ribcage. As a woman, you have nothing—no power, no wealth of your own, even your title changes from your father to that of your future husband. Some of the things your father has bought you have traveled from your home to the Duke’s, but other items are expected to be bought new, because even they belong to your father. Your only worth lies in the ability to be a proper match for a nobleman and provide him with an heir to carry on his bloodline.

A rush of anger quells the sadness this arranged marriage has left you feeling this past week, since your father went back on the one promise he made you: that you could marry for love, like he did with your late mother, rest her soul.

You scoff at the thought that men should hold any power in society. In one moment, your own father forgot his loyalty as well as his promise to his only daughter. In a drunken stupor, two men agreed to trade you like chattel, your position in life changing in the blink of an eye. Useless, is what they are.

The door is open just a sliver, allowing in the swell of the music, and you hear the creak of the hinges as Ellie disappears down the hall. Your father stands in the corridor, his eyes staring at the floor, unable to meet yours. You can tell he feels rather guilty for the predicament he has forced on you, but with the knowledge that he is not actually mad at the match, you still feel furious. Marrying up in society may afford you a better life, not that you would have had a destitute one with your father’s title, you’d just hoped (and had been promised you would get) to be in love with the man waiting at the end of the aisle for you, instead of dreading the stranger you were about to meet.

Barely able to focus, you feel out of body as your father wraps your arm through his and leads you down the same path Ellie took just moments before. You can see the archway that leads into the wedding hall where your family and friends wait to observe you promise to obey and cherish a man who was described to you by your father as a “rather strapping young man, who’s quiet but wise and with gentle eyes.”

Taking the turn into the room, all eyes are drawn to you as your eyes are drawn to him. He looks breathtaking. Is this truly the man your father made a drunken deal with? The two of you lock eyes, and you work to fix the shock from your face as his demeanor barely changes. In a blink, your father is placing your hand into the Duke’s, and you are able to take in his features up close.

His face is sharp, eyes angled in a cat-like manner that give the impression he is gazing into your soul and sees the truth you attempt to keep hidden. His hair, wavy and pitch black, is parted to the side where the length falls into his face in an alluring manner. It calls to you, wanting to tuck it behind his ear if only to touch his porcelain skin, unblemished and glowing.

He watches you closely, eyes traveling across your frame as he follows your lead, drinking you in. You’re sure that you still look flawless, ever the blushing bride that Charity and Ellie made you up to be, and for a moment you wonder if the Duke is as taken by your looks as you are by his, before remembering that he is the enemy.

The ceremony ends quickly, a recitation of words that will join you in holy matrimony, followed by words promising to remain faithful to one another until parted by death, and you find yourself face to face with the Duke. He takes a small ring from the man right behind him, Lord Kim Namjoon, who you recognize from his many visits to handle business with your father.

“Like this ring, I shall endlessly provide for you and cherish you, until I no longer exist.”

You can hear Ellie swoon from the low tone his voice takes to deliver the sentiment as he stares into your eyes. Vulnerability flashes for a moment before he looks down, focus solely pointed towards the task of claiming you by way of a golden wedding ring, moonstone inlaid with tiny diamonds surrounding it.

Ellie nudges you to hand you the ring provided for the ceremony by the Min family. It is a deep ebony, with a single thin gold stripe running across the middle of the band. The top is raised to a plateau, a moonstone carved with the Yeoheung Min Clan symbol set within the ring.

Taking the regalia from her gloved palm, you recite your part with eyes on him. Despite your anger at the arrangement, he truly is breathtaking. It takes away from the sting of your words just barely, enough that you are able to deliver them without gagging on the bristling words.

“Like this ring, I shall endlessly obey and cherish you, until I no longer exist.”

You barely hear when the minister says that the two of you are free to share a kiss, but you dutifully keep your face calm as your stomach ties itself into knots.

He leans closer, blush colored lips drawing closer until your eyes close with the contact. So soft…his lips tenderly settle against yours, slight pressure as he angles his head to receive you better, hands falling to your hips gently as he tugs you a step closer and it’s like the room disappears leaving just the two of you in it.

All too soon the room comes back into focus as he steps away, face blushing as the room erupts into applause and cheer from the audience. The end of the ceremony is like a blur, and the next thing that you are aware of, you are seated for an early dinner and a reception in the Daehurst Manor Great Hall for guests to greet you and your new husband, leave expensive gifts, and offer kind words of advice for a long-lasting, happy marriage.

“Would it be weird to introduce myself to you, seeing as I am already your spouse?”

His voice is intriguing—having barely heard it during the ceremony—a low rumble that has you leaning in to hear him better.

“I assure you, my lord, weird was deciding for me that I would marry you, without even bothering to meet me beforehand. What if I had been an ogre? But I digress, it’s not any weirder than hearing you call yourself my husband, husband.”

He smiles, one side of his mouth lifting in an amused smirk as he turns in his seat to face you head on. You dislike him even more that your snide remark made not a dent in his armor. No trace of the bashful hue from the kiss lingers, cat eyes glinting with mischief.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my non-ogre wife. I am Duke Min Yoongi of Daehurst.”

Charity and Ellie can barely contain their laughter as they stare at your contemptuous face. Eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed, you shake your head rapidly in distaste at the bedding ceremony outfit they laid out for you.

“I simply will not wear it.”

“Please, Lady Min, you will leave him stunned. It’s perfect.”

“Who said I want to stun that man? Besides, I cannot be seen in so little clothing by a stranger!”

“He’s hardly a stranger, love,” Ellie said, ignoring your stubborn nature. “He’s your husband.”

“Yes, my husband whom I have known all of two hours! I’m just expected to strut in wearing this to please him, and then—” you pause, stricken as your thoughts settle on what is expected of you.

“Yes, you will wear this very thoughtful gift from me, and then you will consummate the marriage!” Ellie whispers the act as if conspiring to commit a crime. To be fair, you felt like a criminal for how indecent the undergarments were.

Laid on the bed was a short, white boned corset, all frill and lace with a matching pair of high waisted drawers. Ellie had also provided a matching pair of white stockings, made of silk and to be held up with ruffled garters at your thigh. There was a silky chemise that you could wear as a tunic to cover yourself, but once in the Duke’s bedroom, he would see you in all of your risque glory.

“Come now, m’lady, we must finish getting you ready. I am sure the men are chomping at the bit to begin the ceremony.”

Dread fills you as you strip from your wedding dress and step into the lingerie your maid of honor gifted you for your wedding night.

“Well, they can just chomp a bit longer, maybe they can tire each other out enough that I am not needed tonight.”

Having only bathed two hours prior, you are able to skip the bath and spend a few more precious moments with your closest friends. You didn’t have a mother to talk to about things like bedding ceremonies, having learned everything you could from the head house matron, kitchen maids, Charity, and Ellie. Ellie was able to convince her own mother to share a little this past week to help you, but there was still so much you felt you did not know to expect.

As Charity brushes your hair, Ellie spreads a glittering, perfumed powder onto your skin as she talks in the background of the excitement she feels, but you cannot bring yourself to share in it. With a quick twist and pin, your hair is up and you find your feet leading towards the Duke’s wing of the manor. You can hear the merrymaking from the reception still carrying on downstairs; with a wedding as important as yours, you were sure that the people would be here celebrating your union until the sun began to rise.

The door to the Duke’s room is ajar, loud laughter coming from the well lit room. Ellie walks arm in arm with you as Charity follows behind, seeing you off. As your lady’s maid, she’ll reside with you in the Daehurst manor. The housekeeper stands a few paces from the door to lead Charity to her new quarters. Bidding you goodnight, Charity retires for the evening as you and Ellie enter the bedchamber. It is quite spacious, with a large bed in the middle of the room. To the left of the entryway sits a low table surrounded by a pair of armchairs and a matching loveseat, all framed by a magnificent fireplace.

Every seat is taken, with three men squeezing onto the loveseat and a sixth perched on the edge of one of the armchairs. You don’t recognize five of the six men, though Lord Kim Namjoon is among them. You do not see your new husband, so you and Ellie remain standing away from the men so as not to be seen as indecent.

“Duchess! You have arrived for your bedding ceremony, have you not?” A blond haired man nearly falls from the love seat, giggles alerting you to his inebriation. An open decanter sits on the squat table, almost empty.

“Please, Jimin, on all things that are holy, do not bother my wife.”

Your head whips around at the gravely sound of the Duke’s voice. Yoongi looks freshly bathed, no longer in a suit but in a long tunic that sits untucked over loose, black trousers. His dark hair falls in damp curls framing his face, and you hold in a small gasp.

“I won’t bother her hole-y, hyung—that’s your job! Get her all hot and bother—”

“Get out.”

The giggling, intoxicated men all look to Yoongi, pouting with various levels of frowns and scowls adorning their faces. You and Ellie watch the interaction, Ellie with a smile at their banter and you with a grimace as you attempt to keep yourself from growing warm at the indecent remarks regarding what is to come.

“But hyung!” You watch as another one pouts, standing from the loveseat to full height to plead with your husband. “You’re the first to be wed, we’ve been talking about being witnesses for each other for years!”

“Taehyung, you know the plan was to be here when she arrived as a testament to the wedding night, but never to stay. I appreciate your…excitement, but now that you can confirm the duchess’s arrival, you all may take your leave.”

“Appreciate our excitement, but won’t let us stay to watch as you get exci—”

“Jungkook, that’s enough! Out, now!”

With a groan, the three mischievous men begin to walk out of the bedchamber, waving at the older three who are slow to get up. Ellie squeezes your hand in unity before stepping away to follow the boisterous group out into the hall.

“I’ll see you at breakfast, love. I’ll be traveling back to Seoulshire with your father tomorrow afternoon.”

You can only nod, aware of the plans but seeing her linger to make sure that you are okay. You give her a smile, and she finally steps through the threshold behind the first troupe of men to return back to the room you had prepared in. The last three men follow, greeting you and saying goodnight in the same breath.

“It is a pleasure to see you, my lady. I pray that by morning you are able to turn this peevish man affable.”

“Enjoy your night, Duchess!”

“Yeah, all two minutes of it!”

Yoongi thunders to the door, shutting it as the group bursts into laughter muffled by the oak barrier. He turns the lock, then turns his back to it to lean against. You can’t help but to watch him, chest rising before he releases a long sigh. He reaches a hand up to his neck, scratching subtly. The sleeve of his tunic slides along his arm, revealing more unblemished skin. His head is facing the carpet, ink-colored hair falling to cover his face—a face you think you could like very much—eventually. Though right now, even the thought is not enough to quell your irritation at your welcoming.

“I am so sorry for my friends’ behavior.”

His apology startles you. You are not used to men of his prestige to be so easy to offer an apology. During the wedding and at the reception, he appeared stoic, quiet and observing except for the few moments he engaged with you. You assumed it was just happenstance, that he was playing off of your stubborn jests, but seeing him now so open makes you wonder.

“My lord, no need to apologize. They were inebriated and excited for our coupling. Ellie was excited too, though she was better at keeping it hidden.”

“Yes, women do tend to be better at that. More practiced.”

“Do you truly believe that? I have watched my father work, and all noblemen seem to be very good at hiding their emotions.”

Yoongi smirks at your wit, pushing off of the door and walking closer to you.

“You are quite keen, my lady.”

His compliment startles you, as does his encroaching proximity. It is not menacing, if anything you are startled by your body’s response to it. His scent, a heady, woodsy musk infiltrates your senses causing any lingering animosity you had towards your father for this arrangement to seep from you. You’re tired of fighting; the knowledge of having lost before even starting lingering in your mind each time you fight back against the marriage has exhausted you. Still, you want to make sure that the Duke is aware that while you may be acquiescent, you are not easily compliant.

“My lord, I—” you look down at your hands, stumbling over your anger as you collect your thoughts. “I just want to say that I know neither of us wanted this, neither of us knew what to expect until we saw each other today, but I made a vow, so I promise to try my best, but I don’t know what I’m doing or what you expect from me, and I don’t think that I will be good at obeying, so please do not expect that from me. You may be a duke and my husband, but I demand that you treat me as an equal—”

“Shhh…” Yoongi’s thumb and forefinger grip your chin, tilting your head up to face him. You have no idea when he got so close. “I spent quite some time with your father, my lady. He spoke very highly of you and even produced your miniature from his coat pocket to show me. I may have been drunk, but I was not a fool in my decision.” His eyes rove across your face as he gently tilts your head side to side. “You are much more beautiful than the painting captured.”

If he’s hoping that flattery will tamper your annoyance, you feel he will need to try a bit harder. Though, to be fair, his flattery is working on you. Pair that with his face, and he’s doing quite a good job at putting out the fire, but you still remain steadfast.

“How lucky to be a man. You got to see a sample of the product before buying, while I just had to trust that my father wasn’t so drunk that he sold me to the next man who walked past?” You scoff, crossing your arms as you raise your chin out of his hold in defiance.

“Trust me, princess, the luck was all mine. Had I not been the next man to walk by, who knows what woman I would have had to settle for.”

You can’t believe he’s teasing you. Calling you princess and making jokes off of your distress. You want to smack the smirk off his face. You want to kiss him again like at the altar. You’re clearly confused after such a long day of upheaval.

“Right, because any woman should be grateful that you chose them? I was promised I would get to marry for love, just to wake up and be told I was marrying a stranger in a week.”

“Are you really angry because of this arrangement? Not that you should be grateful that I chose you, but you should be thankful for the life that you have, even before me. Not everyone lives how we do.”

Shock. That’s the only way to explain what you are feeling. He is not…man-splaining society’s plights to you, is he?

“I quite know this, my lord. I never said I was not grateful for my life, just that I am currently upset at a promise being broken.”

“Princess, I am sure you know this, but in your stubbornness, you seem to have forgotten yourself. You have a good life, you have food on the table prepared daily by the cooks and maids, and are not having to whore yourself out for a few coins to feed yourself.”

“No, I just have to whore myself to you for the rest of my life, provide you with heirs as soon as possible.” You decide to not hold back; if he’s going to be vulgar as a tactic, two could play at that game. “I may not be whoring myself out for a few coins to feed myself, but let’s not kid ourselves. We both know that I am not seen as anything more than a vessel for your cock and your children to use.”

“Tell me, princess, are you upset because you truly think me some evil, vile man, or are you actually more upset that you don’t have a real reason to push me away?”

Yoongi steps away from you, walking over the bed and settling down on the edge. You can’t help but watch the way his veins move as he leans back and rests on his palms. He’s so handsome and so assured of himself, and behaving as if he doesn’t even care that it’s your wedding night. You really don’t know how to explain how you’re feeling, because everything is at odds. He mistakes your silence during your internal debate as confusion and continues to explain.

“I know I’m not unappealing to the eye, and not an old geezer like many of your friends have had to deal with, I’m sure. We probably aren’t that far off in age difference, if there even is any. We’re young, and while you may be feeling angry about this marriage, I also get the feeling that you’ll be open to letting that anger go soon.”

“I barely know you, my lord, so please don’t take offense to this, but what, pray tell, gives you the feeling that I’ll be letting my anger go soon?” you ask, walking over to where he sits. You feel powerful as you position yourself right in front of him, and being above him like this with his head turned up in order to lock eyes with you, makes his cat eyes look even more alluring.

“Because, my dear wife,” Yoongi leans forward, entering your space as he brings his right arm up off the bed and to your thigh, “of what I plan to do to you tonight.”

Yoongi’s touch is like fire as he drags it up your thigh to the hem of your chemise, using both hands to grip the edge and pull you even closer to him. You inhale a breath, your body giving away just how much he affects you. The last tiny bit of you fights to not give in, that is, until he pouts up at you.

“If you’ll let me?”

Never have you experienced a man handing control over to you like this. All your life, you have been told what to do, how to behave, who to befriend, and even who to marry despite being promised that would be the one area you could decide. But here sits your husband, a man who quite literally holds you in his hands, able to do whatever he wants with your body now that he essentially owns you—this husband of yours is asking your permission to ruin you.

Unable to speak, you simply nod, eyes wide as he stands, and he never looks away from yours until your chemise blocks his view as he pulls it over your head. Now it’s his turn to inhale sharply as he takes in your angelic form. White lace corset ending just below the bust, high waisted lacy bottoms, ruched garters around each thigh with a clasp to hold your silk stockings in place…an angel, indeed.

Leaning closer to you, his words send tingles down your body as he pleads with you.

“I need you to say it, my lady,” he whispers, “tell me that I can touch you here.”

You jolt as you feel his hands touch the exposed skin of your side.

“Y-yes,” you say, clearing your throat due to how parched you sound.

“And can I, say, touch you here?” One hand trails lower, fingers dancing over the front of your drawers as the other holds you in place. Two of his fingers slide between your thighs, pressing against your core, and you sigh out a quiet moan.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Good girl.”

His fingers continue to travel back and forth, slight pressure causing you to grasp his shoulders for balance. He drops his head into the bend of your neck, lips leaving wet kisses on your overheated skin. He smells divine, his long hair tickling your cheek as he continues kissing and touching you. Your breathing gets louder, and he responds in kind, speeding up his fingers as you feel yourself ruining your panties for this man.

“Y-yoongi…that f-feels really good,” you tell him, surprise lacing your whimpers. You don’t want him to stop touching you, if anything you want more. Yoongi’s lips are latched onto your neck, tongue swirling with light pressure as your knees grow weak. With a light nip of his teeth, he pulls away to speak.

“I want you to always feel good with me, princess.” His gravelly voice is full of yearning, and you can tell he’s just as affected as you are. “I promise you’ll always feel good, if you let me take care of you.”

You can only nod your head, words eluding you as he turns you in his hold, pressing your back to his front while letting his fingers slide inside of your panties and part your lips. You feel his length pressing between your cheeks, thick and firm. He steps backwards with you, pulling you down until the two of you are seated on the edge of the bed. You’ve never been so turned on, dropping your head back to lean on his shoulder as he pulls one thigh to open you up wider.

You put up no fight, instead grinding down on him as you swirl your hips in time to the pads of his fingers circulating your dripping center. His lips reattach to your exposed neck, this time with more passion and it almost distracts you when his fingers dip inside of you, bucking once in his grip at the welcome intrusion. He’s gentle, only going as far as you let him, and the more he does it, the less you tense up, until he’s gliding in and out of you.

You’re unable to stay quiet any longer, every breath letting out a moan that is a melody to Yoongi’s ears.

“I…Yoongi, I think…I’ve never done this before, what’s happening?” you breathe out, and he chuckles darkly.

“Do you trust me?”

“I—”

“I promise it’ll feel good, okay? Trust me, and don’t fight it.”

“But—” his fingers don’t let up, and you squirm on his lap.

“Princess, be a good girl and trust me, don’t fight it—don’t fight me anymore.”

“O-okay, I trust you, Yoongi.”

Letting go, you relax into his hold as he resumes kissing your neck, left hand pulling your chin until your lips meet his in a sloppy sideways kiss. His foot presses against the inside of yours until you groan at the muscle strain. Your legs are so far apart, but it feels even better as his fingers begin a rapid thrusting. He swallows all of your whimpers as you feel your body reaching a peak and it all just feels so good, his free hand leaving your chin to touch your chest, hands roaming as you rock your hips to meet his palm against your sensitive nub and with a simultaneous bite to your bottom lip and pinch to your neglected nipple; you feel yourself combust.

You swear you see fireworks behind your eyelids as you tremble in Yoongi’s arms, barely alert enough to hear him whispering words of praise as he works you through it. It’s not long (or has it been ages?) before your hands push at his, overstimulation causing you to mewl in frustration.

It feels good and you don’t want to stop, but your body can’t take more. Not right now at least.

“That’s it, you did so well.”

“Me?” you question, voice raspy. “I didn’t even do anything but sit here.”

“Trust me, you did plenty. I think you can feel exactly what you did to me.” Yoongi alludes with a slight thrust of his hips, and you in fact do feel him.

“That’s because of me?”

“It’s all because of you. Your sounds, the way you were grinding onto me, the way you taste…” Yoongi slides his fingers into his mouth, sucking your essence from his two fingers lewdly. “You made me this way.”

Your face grows impossibly warmer at the thought of the power you have over a man such as he, and your ability to bring him to this level of vulnerability.

“Does…does it always feel like that?” you question, wondering if it could possibly get better.

Yoongi can barely contain his smirk, “Oh, dear wife, that was just the appetizer.”

Lifting you off of his lap, he sets you down next to him so he can stand and shed himself of his clothing. Naked, he stands before you in all of his glory so you can take in just how well endowed the duke is before kneeling on one knee.

“Can I take these off of you?” he asks, hands gesturing to your hips. You softly say yes, and once your ruined drawers are discarded, he then touches the sides of your corset. “And these?” Nodding, he leaves you in just your silk stockings. “I rather like how these look…”

Still kneeling, he takes your leg and leans you back until you’re sprawled on your back and he has a perfect view of your heated core. He kisses along your clothed leg until he reaches the skin of your thigh, biting lightly until he rests your leg on his shoulder. Turning to the other leg, he does the same, this time going all the way up. You throw your head back into the soft, satin sheets as your hands grip whatever they can. His tongue explores your sensitive area, lapping at your pearl until you’re incoherent, hands tugging at his long tresses to guide him where you want him.

There are no words to describe how Yoongi is making you feel. You’ve never felt this way before, so powerful or in control. You wonder if he’ll always be this willing to hand over the reins. Either way, you plan to savor it.

The sounds coming from between your thighs are obscene, but the louder and sloppier Yoongi is, the better it feels.

“Yoongi, oh!” Your toes curl as another wave of euphoria grips you. Tender kisses along your stomach just barely keep you from floating away as Yoongi brings himself higher and higher along your body. His teeth nip at your breasts, teasing as he laves his tongue around your nipples, perky against the air in the room. Chest heaving, you try to gather your wits as Yoongi’s naked body lays along yours, his hands on either side of your chest as he massages them, spending ample time tasting everything your body has to offer.

“My lady, if you’re ready, I’d rather like to feel you.”

In your post climactic haze, you try and understand what he’s asking.

“Feel me?”

“Yes,” he says, kissing your neck and you don’t understand how your body can still crave for more just from his lips on your skin, “I rather ache for you, princess.” The meaning becomes clear when he adjusts himself over you, and you feel the thickness against your thigh. You are aware of what he needs, how he means to alleviate his ache, and for a moment, you’re scared.

It all fades away as he kisses you, his lips soft against yours as he soothes away the worry.

“I’ll be gentle, I promise. If it hurts, just tell me to stop, okay?” he presses another kiss to your lips, and you melt.

“Okay,” you whisper as you pull away from the kiss, “I trust you.”

He smiles, this time a genuine one at your words before kissing you again. You feel yourself getting lost in it when a pressure at the apex of your thighs causes you to gasp. Breaking the kiss, you look between your body and Yoongi’s watching as his cock, flushed and rigid, breaches your core. He’s going slow, and he lowers himself back down to kiss you more, wanting to take your mind off of the pain as he fills you.

“You’re…impossibly tight…” he pants, and you would laugh if you were in the mindset, but at the moment, you are all consumed by Yoongi. He pushes another inch, stopping to allow you to grow accustomed to him, and you know that this is unusual for a wedding night—you have heard the horror stories from other women, and this has been anything but. Yoongi has made sure to let you have ownership of your pleasure tonight, and even now, he looks to you for confirmation that he can continue on without hurting you.

Raising your hips, you help guide him in the rest of the way, and he grunts as his forehead touches yours. His arms shake as he holds himself above you, wanting to take you with haste, but knowing he must control himself for now.

Reaching for him, your palms settle on either side of his face, bringing him closer to kiss you as you roll your hips against him. He huffs, pulling out to give you a good, even stroke, and you nearly scream at the pleasure and pain of it. He apologizes against your lips, but you shake your head, urging for more. He complies, though slower this time, not wanting to scare you off from sharing his bed. Yoongi is so gentle, sweet even as he swivels his hips, and you move your hands to grip his hair and his shoulder, leveraging to meet him with every gyration of your lower body.

A few tugs to his hair leaves him cursing in gratification, and soon you feel his hand reach to your leg to lift. His thighs speed up as he thrusts haphazardly into you before you feel a hot release of his seed filling you and spilling out around his cock, now lazily unloading itself as he slows with each jolt. His release provides you with just what you need to follow him, walls clenching around him to milk the last drop.

Sighing, the two of you lay tangled in the sheets, Yoongi’s fingers smoothing your hair as yours play along his chest, a feverish color now spread across his decolletage after your love making.

“I’ve never experienced such a blissful feeling as this,” you admit.

“Likewise, my lov—my lady.” Yoongi corrects a slight slip of the tongue.

“It’s okay, I think I could quite like being called your love,” you tease, though your words ring true. You now know what you felt with Yoongi. Liberation. A freedom you have never felt as a woman, provided to you in the most surprising of places: the arms of a man.

At breakfast the next morning, Ellie can’t help but notice the way you seem to glow as you sit at your husband’s side. The two of you can’t stop touching, whether it be holding hands or light touches to each other's arm as you two talk with the others who stayed overnight. Being married may not have been what you had seen for yourself a week ago, but after last night, you have a feeling that you could fall deeply in love with your husband, the Duke, and he with you, his Duchess.

“Marriage isn’t all that bad, is it, my love?” Yoongi whispers as the maids pass around the breakfast foods, and you shift your gaze to the marks you left barely hidden by his collar from an early morning romp.

“No, my love, I rather find that you have proven me wrong, and I quite like that.”

“And I quite like you.”

“You had better!”

thank you for reading!!!

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keen-observations-x · 3 months ago

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Keen observation: Giyū is a hypocrite:

Let me explain:

I have a headcannon // Oneshot for this that I will link HERE when it is finished x.

Alright, to prove this point I am going to focus on two specific points (With Anime episodes and Manga chapters listed)

Okay: the first point to be made is with when Tanjiro is trying to convince Giyú to come and train the other demon slayers, and Giyú is doing all he can to avoid and // or ignore poor sweet Tanjiro.

Exhibits A // B // C:

"Giyú sannnnn!!" // "Mr. Giyuuu!!"

Throughout Season five, Episode two "Water Hashira Giyú Tomioka's Pain" (Covering from chapter 130 of the Manga), we get to see Tanjiro's sheer determination to convince the stoic hashira to join in training the younger // lower ranking corps members - to which Giyú consistently either flat out refuses him, or ignores him - leading to a rather hilarious sequence of events that last over a few days.

And at one point we get to see things from Giyú's perspective - and what he says made me get thinking: HMM THIS SEEMS AWFULLY FAMILIAR - OH YEAH THAT'S BECUASE IT IS.

(Thoughts) Is he going to… keep this up for the rest of my life?

(Thoughts) If I talk to him, will he stop stalking me?

AND THAT LEADS ME INTO POINT B. Throughout Season five Episode 7, "Stone Hashira Gyomei Himejima" - We find Giyú and Sanemi in the midst of a heated spar - only for Tanjiro to intervene because he thinks that they are actually fighting each other.

He then proceeds to talk about Sanemi's enjoyment of Ohagi (For reference Ohagi is a Japanese sweet that is made of glutenous rice flour and red bean paste // it is also sometimes called red bean mochi and is like an inside out Daifuku) - And Giyú displays interest in this, notable by the remark he passes to the other Hashira

"You like Ohagi?"

(Also how refreshing was it to see Giyú actually trying to make friends?? Like AHHHH he's trying so hard and WHO DOES THAT SOUND LIKE?? - TANJIRO.)

Giyú then goes on to tell Tanjiro his silly little plan; the next time he sees Sanemi - he's going to hide some Ohagi up his sleeve to give to him. Now see, that sounds really cute and all, but imagine this from Sanemi's perspective.

He's clearly embarrassed by Tanjiro talking about his liking of Ohagi - based off his reaction to Tanjiro bringing it up. He shouted, and then stormed off.

Now picture the person who he hates on a level nearly par with demons (Someone who is always painfully quiet and uninterested in him) suddenly acting all smiley and enthusiastic, brandishing Ohagi from... up his sleeve? I don't know about you, but that would seem quite odd to me, condescending even.

Personally, I headcannon that Giyú went full Tanjiro in his pursuit to give Sanemi some Ohagi and become friends with him, but a more so silent approach. Like he'd still be overbearing, but with that little smile of his accompanied by an empty stare and total silence.

It'd creep the hell out of Sanemi and probably make him feel a little insecure, almost embarrassed of himself if Giyuu was going to this length in (what he thinks is) teasing him.

Another instance of miscommunication for them. Sanemi would probably start thinking like Giyú had-

"Is he going to keep this up forever!?"

"Goddammit, if I entertain this will he leave me alone?!"

(Just look at his silly face // he is both pure of heart and dumb of ass)

but I think Sanemi's face was bound to look less like that ^^^ and more like this: vvv

AND THERE IS MY LITTLE ESSAY ON WHY GIYU IS A HYPOCRITE - WHETHER HE KNOWS IT OR NOT.

And an abridged one below:

( I think he would have eventually taken a piece of Ohagi from him, and that it would have made Giyú insanely happy - but Sanemi takes that as him being sarcastic - causing more friction on his side, whereas Giyú thinks they are making progress, making him do it again.

I think this kerfuffle would have only been cleared up after the final battle, to which Sanemi feels a little worse for being so cold to Giyú - but is immediately forgiven and gifted with a bunch of Ohagi, as Giyú grew quite skilled at making it after so many practice runs. )

THEY'RE SO SILLY I LOVE THEM

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asirensrage · 2 years ago

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Dealing with Unwanted Attention - The Hashira

An exploration of how the Hashira (+bonus) help you deal with unwanted attention from a neighbour.

Modern!AU!Demon Slayer (and female!reader).

Adult!Hashira (except for Muichiro and Tanjiro and co who are all teens)

Rating: T

Pairings: Nothing explicit but suggestive... (aside from Tengen&wives)

Warning: swearing, some violence/threats, mention of possible stalking (they've been staring at them for a while), slight poisoning, neighbour being a creep, mention of them wanting to watch women make out.Un-beta'd.

Word count: ~ 4800

Notes: Based on true events (mainly the neighbour staring and stopping the reader to confess their feelings). I wasn't planning on writing this in 2nd person pov, but it kept trying to change into it as I wrote, then when I was trying to choose between 2nd and 3rd, my friend chose 2nd and a random wheel picker chose 2nd...so I gave in to the universe. This got long. Enjoy!

Please let me know what you think and if I got the characterizations right. One of my fave lines I've written is in this, see if you can guess lol.

What they arrive to:

You try to be polite to your neighbours. There’s no need to be rude, even if you’d rather be left alone by them, but you didn’t expect it to lead to this. You know the man has been watching you. You could feel his eyes on you when you were outside and he was on his balcony, but you’ve never said more than a thank you to him for holding open the door for you so you’re not entirely sure how you’re in this mess.

He’s confessing to you. This man that you’ve never officially met until right now, who might actually be younger than you, who is telling you he’s an alcoholic but that he’ll change. For you. How does he think this is appealing? You’re trying to find an exit, you don't want to be completely rude since you live in the same building and you’re likely going to see him again, but you want out. Now.

The reactions:

Sanemi

“Who the fuck is this?”

You let out a breath at the voice, relief setting in deep in your bones. “Sanemi,” you turn with a smile, grateful for his timing.

He’s not looking at you. His eyes are on the man standing in front of you, who’s still trying to reach out to touch you. Again. Sanemi moves, stepping forwards until he’s in front of you, blocking the man from your view. He stares at you for a moment, taking stock of the relief he can practically feel radiating from you. “Are you ready to go?” he asks. You don’t have any plans, but you don’t care. You’ll follow him anywhere right now.

“Yeah. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Tch. You should be,” he says. He sounds irritated but you know him better by now.

“Excuse me,” the man behind him interrupts. “We’re in the middle of something.”

You watch as Sanemi’s expression shifts into something slightly murderous as he slowly turns to look at the other man. “Did I fucking ask?” The man steps back and Sanemi takes the motion to move forward, getting into his personal space like he tried to get into yours. “You know him?” Sanemi directs the question to you despite not looking back.

“He lives here.”

“I’m introducing myself,” the man says. “We’ll be friends.”

“Friends?” Sanemi scoffs. “She has enough friends.” He steps forward again, forcing the man back. “You ever make her uncomfortable again or even try to touch her again, I’ll break your fucking hands, got it?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Good. Fucking creep,” Sanemi turns back to you, ignoring him. “Come on.” He waits for you to move, keeping himself between you as he leads you away from the building. “He ever bothers you again, you tell me.”

You grin up at him. “I will. Thank you.”

“You just got lucky I showed up.”

“...why did you come by?”

He doesn’t answer.

Shinobu

“My my, what’s this?”

You turn to look at the voice, relief setting in that at least you won’t have to do this alone. Shinobu doesn’t offer you a hug, but she stands next to you, glancing at the man before looking back at you. “New friend?” Shinobu asks, a light smile on her face.

You know better than to assume that your friend is being polite. “A neighbour,” you confirm, ignoring the flash of anger you catch on the man’s face. Great. Another thing to deal with.

Shinobu hums lightly before she turns to the man. “Is there something you needed?”

The man blatantly looks over her before smiling. “I am introducing myself. Hopefully, we can be friends. All of us.” He is either unaware of the danger the small woman presents or ignores it. Either one marks him as an idiot.

“Oh? Are you incapable of making friends?”

He blinks in surprise and you know he’s unsure whether or not to take offence. Shinobu has a way of saying things in her light voice that most men don’t realize are as cruel as she intends them to be. “What?”

“Are you unable to make friends?” she asks again, smile still in place. “I assume that’s why you’re cornering a woman who’s clearly not interested. It’s a bit pathetic, don’t you think?”

“Pathetic?” he catches the insult and scowls at your friend.

“Yes,” Shinobu nods. “Does that make you angry? There are ways to fix it, that don’t involve my friend.”

“I’m not pathetic! I was–” he’s cut off as he reaches forward. Shinobu’s hand grabs his wrist before he can reach you. He tries to pull back and frowns slightly as her nails scratch him as he pulls away. “I was introducing myself,” he continues.

“Then you’re done and now you can leave,” Shinobu nods. He looks as though he’s going to protest but he sways slightly before blinking rapidly.

“Did you do something?” you ask Shinobu, who looks at you innocently. You know better though.

“Hmm…it might be a reaction to the latest experiment. Perhaps it got on my nails. I’m sorry,” she smiles at the man. “You should be fine with some rest. It’s not nearly enough to be fatal.”

The man pales. “What?”

“You should go,” Shinobu says. “Unless you’re willing to be a test subject. I’m sure no one will miss you if you’ve cornered women before. Perhaps you should be more careful, no?”

The man basically runs from her and you watch as he leaves.

“What was really on your nails?” you ask, looking at Shinobu.

“A mild paralytic. He’ll survive,” she says. “I came to ask if you wanted to join me for dinner?”

“After that? Absolutely.”

Gyomei

Someone calls your name and before you can even turn to look, you see the man in front of you blanch. You know the voice and it’s entertaining to see firsthand how intimidated someone can be by your friend behind you. Especially when you know that he’s the kindest one of you all.

“Are you alright?”

“Gyomei,” you greet warmly. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see if you would join me for the afternoon. Are you busy?”

You look at your neighbour who is still staring at the tall man in shock.

“Oh,” Gyomei says. “My apologies for interrupting.” He turns to the man. “I am Himejima Gyomei.”

Your neighbour introduces himself and you try not to be annoyed at how he’s stepping back now that someone else is here. Especially when it’s another man. “Are you friends?” your neighbour asks.

Gyomei looks down at you. “I am very lucky to have her in my life.” It’s not an answer and you have a feeling he’s done it intentionally. Whatever. You’re not going to complain if it gets you out of this.

You smile up at him. “I think I’m the lucky one,” you say. You mean it too. Gyomei is a calming presence in your life, someone steadfast that you know you can rely on. He rests his hand on your shoulder and you relax under it. You’re safe with him.

He turns back to your neighbour. “Please, continue your conversation. I can wait.”

“No,” your neighbour says. “It’s fine. I didn’t realize…” he trails off before wandering away without saying goodbye.

“Are you alright?” Gyomei asks again.

“Yeah,” you say. “I am now.”

Obanai and Mitsuri (because ofc they're together)

You notice when his gaze shifts from you to something behind you. Then you hear it.

“You’re outside! Did you know we were coming?”

You turn to see Mitsuri heading towards you, Obanai behind her, his eyes already on your neighbour who is staring…at Mitsuri. You turn and move, just enough to block his view. Mitsuri doesn’t have a problem showing off any of her assets, but that doesn’t mean your creep of a neighbour could stare. Ew.

Misturi crashes into you with a hug, as though it’s been years since you’ve last seen each other and not days. You hug back just as tight, grateful for the company.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

“We came to take you out!” Misturi pulls back and motions towards Obanai. “We missed you!”

You weren’t sure if that was the truth but a quick glance at Obanai shows that he’s moved to stand between you two and your neighbour. He nods toward you and you can’t help but smile back.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“Dinner,” Obanai says.

“Excuse me!” your neighbour cuts in, moving to the side so that Obanai is no longer blocking him. "Hey, we were talking.”

“Oh!” Mitsuri turns to face him. “I’m sorry!”

Obanai glares at the interruption. “Who are you?”

“Her neighbour. We were just getting introduced.” He gives his name again, this time reaching for Mitsuri’s hand. He does not get far.

“You often touch people without them wanting you to?” Obanai asks, his grip tightening on the man’s wrist. Your neighbour tries to pull back but is unable to.

“He was just introducing himself,” Mitsuri says. “Weren’t you?”

“Of course!” Your neighbour says. “Can’t people be friendly?”

“No.”

You have to hide a smile as Mitsuri giggles at Obanai’s response.

“Go ahead,” Obanai says. “I’d like a word with your neighbour.” He doesn’t look at you, keeping his eyes on the man whose wrist he’s still holding.

“Okay!” Mitsuri grabs your hand and starts pulling you away. “Nice to meet you! Don’t be too rough, Obanai, okay?” Once they’re far enough away, Misturi lets go and looks at you. “Are you alright? You looked uncomfortable.”

“Yeah,” you say, smiling softly. “He came out of nowhere. I’m glad you were there.”

“Don’t worry, Obanai will let him know you’re not interested. Besides, you have us!”

You hug Mitsuri again with one arm. “I do!”

Muichiro

You step back as your neighbour moves forward, reaching for your hand again. Why does he keep trying to touch you?

“I don’t think she likes that,” a voice comes from the side. Both of you look and your face lights up when you see who it is.

“Muichiro! What are you doing here?”

His head tilts slightly as he looks at you. “You said I could come any time.”

You smile slightly as you nod. “You’re right, I did.” The kid was always welcome but it was rare to see him without his twin. “Where’s Yuichiro?”

“He said he’d come later. He thinks he’s figured out a move that will beat me in shogi.”

“Is this your brother?” your neighbour cuts in. He smiles at the younger boy and introduces himself. Muichiro ignores him.

“Are you going out?” he asks. “Can we join you?”

“Yes,” your neighbour adds. “We can walk with you. Get to know each other better.” You recoil from him reaching for you again and step back.

“Not you,” Muichiro cuts in. “You are not invited.”

“What?”

“You’re not invited,” the kid says again. “I don’t think you should touch her anymore. She doesn’t like it.”

“Listen, brat, no one asked you.”

“Hey!” you cut in, scowling. Why was it always easier to defend someone else than it was to defend yourself? “He’s right. You can’t just invite yourself. Thank you, but I’m not interested.”

He reaches for you again but Muichiro knocks him over as the boy moves forward. “She said she’s not interested.” Muichiro stares at the man on the ground for a moment. “You shouldn’t bother women who aren’t interested.” He looks back at you. “Should we call someone?”

“It’s fine,” you say. “Come on, let’s go meet Yuichiro on the way. I’ll buy dinner.” You both leave the man to pick himself up and you silently pray he gets the hint.

Giyu

You almost don't hear your name being called. The lack of reaction doesn’t stop Giyu from moving forward and standing next to you.

You look up at him in relief. “Giyu!”

“I called,” he says. He glances at your neighbour who is watching you. “Are you busy?”

“No,” you shake your head, hoping that he’ll be able to at least get you out of this. Even as hopeless as he was socially, you know that he’ll pick up on your hints. You’ve known each other long enough.

“We’re in the middle of a conversation,” your neighbour says, looking unimpressed that you’re dismissing him.

Giyu looks at him before turning back to you. “Are you hungry? I wanted to talk.”

“Sure!”

“Excuse me,” your neighbour interrupts again.

Giyu gives you an unimpressed look but turns to face him. “Can I help you?”

“You’re interrupting. I was just getting to know your friend.”

Giyu stares at the man for a moment. “I don’t think she wants to know you.”

Your neighbour’s jaw drops. “Who are you to say that?”

“Her friend.” Giyu looks at you again. “Do you want to stay?”

You shake your head slightly, just enough to convey your desire to leave. You might have to never come back. Or maybe you could convince him to move. “Let’s get something to eat.”

“There’s no need to be rude!” your neighbour snaps.

“She’s not rude,” Giyu says. “It was clear she wasn’t interested before. You should pay attention.” You try not to laugh at Giyu of all people pointing out ignoring social cues. You adore him more for it. “Let’s go.”

“Hey!” your neighbour reaches out, aiming for Giyu’s shoulder to stop him from leading you away. He doesn’t make it. Giyu steps to the side, turning as he grabs your neighbour’s hand and directs the motion straight to the ground.

You can’t stop the gasp at the sound of him hitting the ground.

Giyu holds him there for a moment. “Are you done?” he asks. He finally releases him and steps back. “You should keep your hands to yourself.” Giyu looks at you again. “Can we go now?”

“Yeah,” you smile. “We can.”

He offers you his hand to step over your neighbour and leads you away. “If he bothers you again, call us.”

“I will.”

Kyojuro

Someone shouts your name and as soon as you hear it, you calm down. Things are going to be okay. You turn towards the voice and grin. “Kyo!”

“I hoped you were home!” He strides forwards towards the two of you. He looks between you both. “Am I interrupting?”

“No!” you exclaim as your neighbour says “yes.”

Kyojuro looks at you both before he nods. “I see. My apologies regardless.” He smiles at your neighbour and offers his hand. “I am Rengoku Kyojuro. Who are you?”

You watch as your neighbour introduces himself almost warily as if he’s not sure what to make of the situation.

Kyojuro turns to you, stepping closer and smiling down. “Are you free today?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. Continue your conversation, I will wait.” He crosses his arms over his chest and turns to face your neighbour. The man looks stunned to be pinned by Kyojuro’s gaze. You know the feeling but you wait to see if he’s going to continue to confess under your friend’s stare.

“I uh…” your neighbour glances at Kyojuro again before he looks at you. “As I was saying, I want to know you more! If you don’t like that I drink, I’ll stop.”

You look at Kyojuro whose expression hasn’t changed but you can see the tension in his form. You wouldn’t notice if you didn’t know him like you do. “I heard you,” you say carefully. It’s safer now, you feel, to decline his interest outright with someone else with you. “Thank you, but I’m not interested.”

“You haven’t even given me a chance,” your neighbour says. You don’t want to. “We could just spend time together.”

“No thanks,” you say, shifting closer to Kyojuro without thinking.

Your neighbour steps forward, reaching for your hand again. “I’m not trying–”

“She has made herself clear,” Kyojuro interrupts, his hand on the man’s wrist, preventing him from touching you. “Do not dishonour yourself further and press for her attention.”

“Dishonour? I’m just trying to ask her out!”

“And she refused,” Kyojuro says, still staring at the man. “I fear that if she should accept, the flame of her heart would be drowned by the weight of your desire. I cannot accept that!”

“I didn’t ask you,” your neighbour snarls.

“You did not! But I am here regardless and thankful for it, if only to protect her from your refusal to hear her disinterest. Leave now.”

“You can’t just–”

“I can! I trust that you will not embarrass yourself further. Should I hear that you continue to push or attempt to take advantage, I will not be as forgiving as I am now.”

The man stares at him for a moment before Kyojuro finally lets go. Your neighbour stumbles back slightly. He glares at you both, rubbing at the wrist Kyojuro held before he walks off, heading to the building. Kyojuro watches until the man disappears into the building before he turns to you. “Are you alright?”

You move without really thinking, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him tightly. “Thank you.”

He pauses for a moment before he brings his arms around you, holding you against him. “It’s alright,” he says softly. “I am just glad I was able to be here.”

You pull back. “I appreciate the help. What brings you around?”

“I wanted to see you, of course!” He lets go as you move away. “As you are not busy, would you be willing to join me? I have something I wanted to show you!”

“Of course! Let’s go!”

Tengen

An arm drapes itself over your shoulder. If you weren’t familiar with the weight of it, the scent of the man who pulls you into him, you would have recoiled. “What’s this then?”

You look up at the built man who towers over the rest of you. “Tengen! What are you doing here?”

“Came to see you, of course! Who’s this?” Despite the cheerful tone, he doesn’t take his eyes off your neighbour.

“My neighbour,” you say after a moment as you realize the man in question is still looking at Tengen.

“Hm,” Tengen leans down, putting his face next to yours and ignoring your neighbour. “You miss me?” He grins as he asks, eyes on you.

“Didn’t I just see you the other day with the others?” you quip back, used to his flirting.

“Who are you?” the man finally speaks up.

Tengen glances over at him and you can practically see him considering if he wants to deal with the man. He straightens, keeping his arm around you, and grins. “Uzui Tengen! Flashiest man around and the love of her life!”

“You’re not the love of my life,” you say automatically.

“I could be,” Tengen says. He leans down closer again and his voice lowers. “Don’t you want to give us a chance?”

“We’re talking,” your neighbour cuts in again. “In fact, if she’s not interested, it’s all the more reason she should say yes to going out with me.”

“I would think that the she in question should make the choice,” you mutter.

“Why would she date someone as unflashy as you?” Tengen asks, looking unimpressed.

Your neighbour seems taken aback by the question. “What? Why wouldn’t she?”

Tengen makes a point of looking the man up and down. “You have no flair! No flamboyance! In fact, it’s very unflashy of you to keep ignoring her like this while you talk about her, right Angel?”

“Hmm,” you nod in agreement.

Tengen tightens his grip slightly “Do you want to go out with this boring man?” He asks.

“No.”

“There you have it. Now,” Tengen leans towards your neighbour. “In fact, I don’t think you should bother her again and if you do, well…I’ll show you how flashy I can be.”

The man swallows slightly, as though he’s suddenly reminded of Tengen’s size. “Uh sure,” your neighbour says. He glances at you. “Sorry.”

You don’t get a chance to respond because Tengen leads you away, arm still around you and heads towards your building.

“You’re not going out anywhere, are you? Thought we could order in. Unless you want to go out. Karaoke?”

“Are we going to invite the girls?”

He grins at you. “Of course!”

Bonus!

Tengen & his wives!

You hear the squeal first and then Suma crashes into you. You hug the woman back, used to how affectionate she is.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, completely distracted from the situation with your neighbour as you look to see Makio and Hinatsuru heading towards you.

“We missed you!” Suma says, pulling back.

“Will you let her go?” Makio demands, yanking Suma back as they get close. “You’re interrupting!”

“Sorry!” Suma lets go. “I was just excited!”

“It has been a while since we’ve seen you,” Hina agrees. She looks over at your neighbour before turning back to you. “Sorry for interrupting. We hope you don’t mind that we dropped by unannounced.”

“Not at all,” you smile at the three women that now surround you. Makio has shifted, taking point to be in between you all and your neighbour. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I bet,” Makio says. There’s a brief moment where you all communicate silently with each other. The slight widening of the eyes, the nod and shifting of the shoulders. The way friends have communicated about the people around them for ages without words. It’s enough that the three women are all aware that you’re uncomfortable and are grateful for their help.

“Excuse me.”

They all turn to look at your neighbour who looks delighted at the sudden prospect of more women to interact with. It probably helps that all three of the new ones are gorgeous, well-endowed and wearing low-cut tops.

“What?” Makio asks, unimpressed. Suma shifts slightly to stand closer to you.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says before introducing himself. The women all stare at the hand he offers but none of them reach to take it. He pauses before finally dropping it, but he steps closer. “We were just getting to know each other,” he says. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?”

No, you think. You don’t get a chance to answer though because Makio turns her back on the man and faces you again. “Have you eaten?” Makio asks.

“Oh yeah!” Suma grabs your arm and you feel a rush of affection for these women who have shown up and are trying to help. “If you have, we could get dessert!”

“You’re not busy, are you?” Hina asks.

“No,” you shake your head.

“Hey!” your neighbour cuts in again. “There’s no reason to be a bitch. You could have just said you were into girls. I wouldn’t have minded…especially if I can watch.”

Your jaw drops open and you can see the way the others nearly shake with anger. Before any of them can step forward, your attention is drawn behind him as Tengen appears.

“Oh ho! What’s this?” His hand slaps down on your neighbour's shoulder. You can see his grip tighten. “I didn’t just hear you call them something so unflashy, did I?”

“Tengen!” You all call out, your voice tinged with a little more relief. As glad as you are for the company of the girls, you don’t want to subject them to your neighbour more than you have to.

Tengen grins at the four of you before focusing back on the man he’s holding. “Now, what were you saying?”

“What? Nothing!”

“Liar!” Makio snaps.

“He called her a bitch, Tengen,” Hina says softly. She loops her arm around yours on the side that doesn’t have Suma.

“He said he wanted to watch!” Suma adds.

“Oh really?” Tengen’s eyes narrow. “Perhaps you girls should go ahead and I’ll catch up…after I teach this one some manners.”

“Good,” Makio nods.

“We’ll let you know where we decide to go,” Hina says softly. “Come on.” The girls usher you away from the building where Tengen is still keeping your neighbour in place. The man looks slightly terrified now but Tengen waves you all off with a grin.

“I’m so glad you’re okay!” Suma exclaims, still keeping her arm around yours as they walk.

“Yeah,” Makio agrees. “How long has that creep been bothering you?”

“He’s been staring for a while but just came out of nowhere today, telling me he liked me and wanted to go out. He said he’s an alcoholic but would stop for me.” You see the look the women give each other.

“Maybe you should stay with us,” Hina suggests. “Just for a bit.”

“Yeah!”

You laugh slightly. “I don’t know. I’ll have to go home eventually, right? I’m sure he got the point.”

An arm wraps around your shoulder as Tengen appears, inserting himself between you and Suma. He laughs as you both adjust to the new position. “He sure did!” He towers over all of you but Tengen has never felt threatening. At least not to you. “He won’t be bothering you anymore. And if he’s still staring, call us. We’ll deal with him,” he promises.

You smile up at him. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank us,” Hinatsuru says softly. “We’re happy to help.”

“Yeah!” Makio adds. “He’s lucky Tengen showed up before I got to him.”

“I don’t know about that…” Tengen says, “but I know I am with such flashy girls!”

AND

Tanjiro, Nezuko, Zenitsu and Inosuke

The man is holding your hand in a light grip that tightens as you try to pull away. You’re trying not to be rude but his hand is clammy and you never wanted to be touched. You have a feeling you’re going to have to snap and then deal with the repercussions later.

Your attention shifts to the sound of feet hitting the pavement and a familiar voice calling your name. You yank your hand from your neighbour before turning and moving back, managing to avoid Inosuke’s attempt at a tackle. You shift and watch as Zenitsu falls, his attempts to hug you failing. You’re used to these kids and at this point, it’s a game when you meet.

Zenitsu whines at your avoidance.

“Haha!” Inosuke slides to a stop and turns back to you. “You won’t avoid me again!”

“Stop tackling her!”

You ignore Zenitsu and Inosuke as they start arguing and turn to Tanjiro and Nezuko as they stop next to you. “What are you all doing here?”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Tanjiro says softly. “We were passing by and saw you. We thought we’d stop and say hi. I tried to get them to stop from running at you. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you wave him off. “I’m glad to see you.” Nezuko moves forward and offers a hug and you hug back, noticing the way Tanjiro moves between you and your neighbour. Your gaze softens. He’s such a good kid. They all are.

“It’s been awhile,” Tanjiro agrees.

“Excuse me,” your neighbour cuts in, moving around Tanjiro. “Didn’t realize you were so popular with children. Are you related?”

“No,” you say, not willing to give more than that.

“Who are you?” Inosuke shoves himself between you and your neighbour. You can see the man trying to move around the kid, but Inosuke has a way of making himself known. “Fight me!” he demands.

“What? I’m not going to fight a kid.” Your neighbour looks for you but you let go of Nezuko who raises her eyebrows, silently asking if you’re okay.

You nod back, smiling at the girl.

“You think you’ll beat me?” Inosuke says. “You couldn’t touch me. I’m the greatest!”

“Who is that?” Zenitsu asks quietly, coming up to your side now that Inosuke is distracted. “Do you know him?”

“He’s my neighbour,” you say. “He was just…introducing himself.” You wince as you say it.

“You didn’t seem comfortable. Do you want to leave?” Tanjiro asks, focused on you as Inosuke drags your neighbour to more open space in his demands to fight. “We can walk you to where you’re going. Or inside,” he offers.

“Thanks.” You smile in relief, even if they’re just kids, you’re grateful you’re no longer alone.

“Fuck off!” All of your attention turns to the sound of your neighbour yelling at Inosuke. “You freak!”

“Excuse me?” You move around the children, striding towards your neighbour. To hell with being polite. “What did you just say?” He turns to you, surprise crossing his features as though he’s forgotten you were there.

“I–I was just–”

“Just what?” You snap. “He’s a kid and you’re swearing at him?”

“He’s not leaving me alone! I’m trying to talk to you!”

“I don’t want to talk!” You stride forward, aware of the eyes on you. “I haven’t shown the slightest interest and you kept pushing and trying to touch me!” His eyes widen but you don’t stop. “They’re fifteen! And they have more sense and observation than you do. You don’t treat people like that, even if they’re annoying and you don’t keep pushing your attention on to someone who doesn’t want it!”

“I’m sorry,” he reaches for you again.

“Fuck off!” you use his own words against him. “Come on, Inosuke, don’t waste your time fighting him. You’d likely win in seconds. Let’s go.” You turn and walk back toward the others.

“You’re so cool!” Zenitsu cheers as you return.

“That was impressive,” Tanjiro agrees. “Hopefully he’ll listen.”

“If he doesn’t, I’ll come back and show him how weak he is!”

You smile at Inosuke and reach out to ruffle his hair. He ducks out of the way. “Thanks. Come on, let’s get out of here. You guys want to walk me to my friends?”

“Yeah!”

“Let’s go!”

“I’m going to get there first!”

“What!? Wait for us!”

taglist: @raith-way @chrissymunson @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse

#fic: dealing with unwanted attention #hashira x reader #hashira reactions #uzui tengen x reader #kyojuro x reader #gyomei x reader #shinobu x reader #giyu x reader #obanai x mitsuri x reader #sort of #demon slayer fic #kimetsu no yaiba fic #this is just me wishing i had help dealing with this situation lol #also how the hell do i tag this??#demon slayer

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arjudy224 · 11 months ago

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Tea Time with Alfred

Context: Alfred has always been a close family friend of your Grandma. After her death both of you haven't been dealing with the grief very well, so you decide to start hanging out more to ease the pain. (Y/G/N: your grandma’s name)

Knocking on the door to Wayne Manor, I fumble with the basket of muffins in my left hand. A very confused Jason opens the door.

"Look Y/N..." He begins awkwardly shifting his balance. Guilt spreads across his sculpted features.

"With love, I'm not here for you." I interrupt putting my hand up to silence him, "Whatever you have to say, save it for another time."

Brushing past him, I wander down the hallway past a dozen or so portraits of the Wayne family. With the high ceilings and shelves filled with books older than my great Grandma, I narrowly get lost in the grandeur. One of the glass shelves catches my attention. A much younger looking Alfred beams up at me while a soaked brunette angrily swats at his shoulder with a shoe. My heart contracts when I recognize the woman. Years before she got sick, Y/G/N was radiant. Although the photo is in black and white, I know for certain she is wearing her faithful orange sweater that was in rags by the time I came around. The photo reads: Alfred's revenge London 1965. My eyes well up with tears at the thought of her being so healthy. The image of how frail she looked in that hospice bed will forever be burned in my heart.

The next photo over shows Alfred, Grandma, and I at my first visit to Gotham. Freshly nine, Gotham was such an adventure. Driving into the city was... nothing short of magical. There may have been crime in every corner, but her stories brought much needed light into the city. My 9 year old self hadn't yet grown into herself. With cracked glasses I had broken moments prior and aggressively neon braces, my fashion had a long way to go. I was probably too big to go on Alfred's shoulders at that point, but he picked me up anyway for the walk around the city. The crowded boardwalk behind us sold the best deep fried oreos in Gotham city. A teenager at the time, Dick had convinced me that the secret ingredient was cocaine... As an adult looking at Gotham city, that joke may not be too far off.

The infamous smell of Alfred's baking grounds me to the present. Dickie isn't stealing my gameboy anymore. He's happily living in Bludhaven revamping their police force. Shit, I really need to call him back. How do you tell someone that if you talk about it there is no guarantee that the crying will ever stop?

It doesn't matter what he’s been saying. It's better to not burden him with this. I take a deep breath to avoid a breakdown. Cookies. Tea time. Glancing at my watch, I realize I'm five minutes late. Classic y/n.

Alfred's back is to me when I finally stumble into the kitchen. A mischievous grin emerges on my face as I creep closer making a conscious effort to silence my footsteps. Jason used to say that watching the two of us sneak up on each other was like watching a cheetah stalking its prey. Of course, Alfred always made it look so easy though. Halfway there....

Stirring a bowl of brownie batter by hand, he calls out to me.

"You've got to do a lot better than that if you want to sneak up on me."

I stifle a laugh throwing my hands up in surrender.

"Sorry Alfie.... Old habits die hard. You would not believe what happened to me today..."

Conversing with the older man fills a void, I have been missing. Telling him about life made everything less scary. If I can spin these horrifying events into a joke during tea time.. well I guess I can survive it.

Alfred isn't one to diverge intense grief, yet I will never forget how heartbroken he was when he explained how painful it was to talk to me. Although our features may be completely different, it was the mannerisms that hurt the most to see: the way I held my hands when I was nervous, the anxious laughter in stressful situations, the silly regency romance novels that sat on my bedside table, the intense hatred of the barren winter... My entire being has been shrouded by her love. For better or worse.

The first couple months, I could almost pretend she wasn't gone. Working two jobs while attending school doesn't give me much time to reflect. However, the holidays left an unspoken hollow void. The empty seat at dinner. The contact I would instinctively dial. The horrible sinking in my chest when I remembered the phone would ring forever.

At the beginning, I think we both pretended we were talking to her. Now as I cackle over his photo collection of Tim falling asleep in public places, I realize how much I love the man who was so important to her. This pain may always stay with me, but what is grief if not love persevering?

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the-oblivious-writer · 1 year ago

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Carpenter Sisters Headcanons

Sam Carpenter & Tara Carpenter

Notes: Just some headcanons of my favorite sisters (aka my beloveds). Wanted to give you something since I've been pretty inactive this month partly due to the Christmas special I'm planning (which is coming soon) I also just love Sam & Tara sm, they will forever live on no matter what

Sam Carpenter

We should all already know this but, Sam is all the above when it comes to Tara. Big sister? Check. Dad? Check. Mom? Check, check, check

Makes Tara carry around a bunch of self-defense weapons like a taser, pepper spray etc

Texts like an old man. She doesn't know a whole bunch of "text lingo" so Tara uses that to her advantage. She'd text you "Kys" thinking it meant "keep yourself safe" because that's what Tara told her. She definitely uses these emojis: 😂 🙂

Is completely lost when it comes to "slang terms" and abbreviations. Tara: "You ate that Sam." Sam: "Ate what? I'm not even eating." Tara's laughed/made fun of her for it while Sam remains confused

Hates being called Samantha. It reminds her of how her mother would scold and ridicule her. When Tara started calling her Sammy, she couldn't be any happier with the given nickname

Never got Tara's love for Horror growing up, but tried to understand for her. In her opinion, it's illogical how most of the characters act, but Tara likes it so she doesn't mind giving it another try

Definitely introverted. She's more outgoing with people she's comfortable with; Tara, Mindy, Chad. Growing up, she never socialized a lot

Will always set everybody else's plate before her own

The Core Four have game nights and it can get... intense. Let's just say on multiple occasions (whether that was Tara buying her out during monopoly or Chad and Mindy giving her yet another +4 in Uno) she has been extremely close to flipping the table

Could laugh to the point where she's gasping for air, I can imagine her and the Core Four just wheezing over the dumbest things

Definitely had "the world doesn't understand me so I cope by blasting music very loudly in my room, not gaf who I piss off" phase. One of the songs she would blast was Creep by Radiohead (canon event. I can't interfere.)

Tara Carpenter

Could sleep anywhere, and always sleeping any chance she gets. I'd say she's a night person, and hates being woken up so early in the morning. And I can imagine she's a sleep talker too

Growing up she had a favorite stuffed animal she carried around everywhere with her and refused to sleep without it

She was a thumbsucker growing up, which she was teased for

Never learned how to ride a bike

She's always hated needles. Whenever she was forced to get a shot when she was younger, she refused to take it without Sam being in the room with her. Sam would let Tara squeeze her hand as tightly as she needed to

Cannot drive for shit. I just know this woman is a bad driver, Sam and the others just hold on to dear life and cross their fingers when Tara gets into the driver's seat

Her car is a complete mess, like you'll just find the randomist stuff in there. There's probably no limit to what you could find if you just try hard enough

She wakes up in the weirdest positions and thinks, "How tf did this even happen-"

Bullies kids on roblox (I don't make the rules)

If someone messes with Sam, they better count their days

She can get soo competitive. If she's winning, you'll know. Can get cocky when celebrating, chanting and everything

Her, Chad, and Mindy would put together one of those "performances" when they were little in order to convince Sam to let them stay up late or have a sleep over. Sam said yes every time

Tara's a shark defender. She believes they're extremely misunderstood creatures

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A/N: I need a Sam & Tara for Christmas

#tara carpenter #sam carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x you #tara carpenter x you #jenna ortega #sam carpenter x y/n #melissa barrera #tara carpenter headcanons #sam carpenter headcanons #scream headcanons

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lividstar · 3 months ago

Text

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤTHE CITY OF LOVE

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ Chapter Nine: May I Have This Dance?

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ < previous | next >

masterpost

៚ wc: 10.3k (total: ???)

៚ fluff, angst, fashion designer!hongjoong x model!reader (ft. personal assistant!seonghwa & photographer!wooyoung), slowburn, strangers to lovers, soulmates au if you squint, do french people actually say bonjour irl?

៚ playlist !

៚ The initial plan was to stay the night in Hongjoong’s art studio to finish one of his designs, but as one thread tangled itself into another and kept the chain going, a series of unexpectedly charming experiences began to unfold, one of which contains running an errand to buy flowers for Madame Dupont’s vases—the very event that led to you and Hongjoong enjoying a little sophisticated dancing session while moving to the soft melody of La Vie En Rose.

a/n: this took so long i’m so sorry 😭 these past few weeks have been so hectic and i had little time to write but i finally pulled through! lmk what you guys think about this one hehe

tags: @beabatiny @babymbbatinygirl

The room was filled with the warm, ambient light of late-night lamps, casting soft shadows on the walls. The hum of the city outside was faint, muffled by the closed windows of Hongjoong’s studio. You both had decided to work late, wanting to finish the third design for his autumn collection before dawn. The atmosphere was relaxed as the hours passed.

“And then, when he pulled the green ribbon off her neck... her head fell to the ground!” you concluded the tale with a dramatic flair.

Hongjoong let out a startled gasp, his eyes wide with shock. “No way!” he exclaimed, causing you to burst into a fit of laughter. The sight of his genuine reaction, so vulnerable and out of character, had you clutching your stomach, tears forming in your eyes.

“Don’t laugh at me like that!” Hongjoong protested, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I’m sure you reacted just the same when you first heard that story.”

Still giggling, you wiped away your tears. “Actually, I did not. And come on, how can I not laugh? Seeing you so scared is just, I don’t know, uncharacteristically priceless?”

Hongjoong crossed his arms, a mock pout on his lips. “I don’t usually react like that, you know. It’s just that… that story... caught me off guard.”

You grinned, teasing him further. “Guess I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, then. So, are you always this easily frightened? Or was there a particular incident that made you this way?”

He hesitated, a shadow passing over his features. “Well, there was one major event,” he admitted, his tone softening.

Intrigued, you leaned forward, eager to hear more. “What happened?”

Hongjoong looked thoughtful, as if weighing his words carefully. “When I was younger, I had this experience... It was late at night, and I was at home alone. The power went out, and there was this eerie silence, you know? The kind that makes you hear things that aren’t really there. Suddenly, there was this loud crash from the kitchen. I thought someone had broken in. I grabbed the nearest thing I could find—a baseball bat—and slowly made my way there, heart pounding. But when I got to the kitchen, there was nothing. No sign of anyone. Just an open window that I knew I had closed earlier.”

He paused, taking a deep breath. “Ever since then, I’ve been quite jumpy, especially when I’m alone at night. It’s silly, really, but it left a mark on me.”

You listened intently, feeling a pang of sympathy. “That sounds terrifying. I can’t imagine going through something like that alone—at a young age, too.”

Hongjoong smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, it honestly still creeps me out a little when I remember it. But enough about me, what about you? Any fears?”

You hesitated, then sighed. “It’s not exactly spooky, but my biggest fear is being left alone. Not just physically alone, but emotionally. The idea of someone I care about just disappearing without a word... It terrifies me.”

Hongjoong’s expression softened, a hint of understanding in his eyes. “That’s understandable. It’s a fear many people have, I think. The fear of abandonment.”

You nodded, feeling a bit vulnerable yet also comforted by his empathetic response. So far, Hongjoong has proven himself to be very empathetic, and it’s a trait of his that you hold deep appreciation for. “Have you ever felt that way? Worried that someone might just leave without any explanation?”

A contemplative look crossed Hongjoong’s face, and he sighed softly. “It’s not exactly my biggest fear, but... yes, it’s happened to me before.”

Surprised, you looked at him, sensing there was more to the story. However, you also sensed his reluctance to delve deeper, so you decided to shift the topic. “Then... what is your biggest fear?”

Hongjoong glanced away, his gaze distant as he seemed to search for the right words. The studio fell silent, save for the ticking of a clock on the wall. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “My biggest fear... is losing myself. Losing who I am, what I believe in, what I love. It’s easy to get lost in this industry, to become someone you’re not just to please others. Sometimes, I worry that in trying to be everything for everyone, I might end up being nothing at all.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his confession. You felt a deep empathy for him, understanding the struggle of maintaining one’s identity in a world that often demands conformity. “That’s really deep,” you said softly. “But from what I’ve seen, you’ve always stayed true to yourself. That’s something to admire.”

Hongjoong gave you a small, grateful smile. “Thanks. It’s not always easy, but I try. And it helps having people around who remind me of who I am.”

The conversation left both of you in a pensive mood, the laughter from earlier replaced by a contemplative silence. “You’re one of those people, you know,” Hongjoong says after a few seconds, his voice soft and sincere, a hint of a smile showing up on his lips.

His words caught you off guard, a warm feeling spreading through your chest. You smiled back at him, a mixture of gratitude and affection in your eyes. “I’m glad I am.”

The quiet moment between you was filled with an unspoken understanding, a deeper connection that had blossomed unexpectedly. The soft hum of the city outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this shared space. However, the peaceful silence was soon interrupted by a soft hiss from Hongjoong, followed by a muttered curse.

Concern immediately washed over you as you noticed him cradling his hand, a thin line of blood trickling down from his finger to the floor. “Are you alright? What happened?” you asked, quickly moving closer to him.

“It’s fine, just a small scratch,” he dismissed, waving his injured hand nonchalantly. “I’m used to it.”

You shook your head, not convinced. “Where do you keep your first aid supplies?”

He hesitated for a moment, then relented under your determined gaze. “Top drawer of my desk.”

“Stay put,” you instructed, getting up and heading to the desk. You rummaged through the drawer, pulling out a small first aid kit. Kneeling beside him, you opened the kit and carefully took out the necessary supplies. “Let’s get this cleaned up,” you said, your voice gentle but firm.

Hongjoong watched as you worked in silent awe. You cleaned the wound with a delicate touch, your brows furrowed in concentration. As all your attention was poured on his small wound, a stray strand of your hair fell into your line of sight. Before you could brush it away, Hongjoong reached out and gently tucked the hair behind your ear. The brief contact made your breath hitch, a small, almost imperceptible gasp escaping your lips. You felt a flutter in your chest, but you quickly pushed it aside, reminding yourself there was something you needed to get done.

Hongjoong’s gaze lingered on your face, taking in the soft curve of your features, the gentle way your lips pressed together as you concentrated. Up close, he noticed things he hadn’t before—the delicate lines around your eyes when you smiled, the way your lashes cast faint shadows on your cheeks. There was a quiet beauty to you, one that he found himself increasingly drawn to. He shook his head slightly, trying to clear his thoughts, but the feeling remained—a growing awareness of the attraction he felt toward you.

“There,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you leaned back, inspecting your handiwork. The wound was now clean and bandaged, and you held his hand gently, your fingers still wrapped around his.

Hongjoong’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he looked down at your hands. “You know, you’re still holding my hand,” he teased, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Startled, you quickly released his hand, a flush creeping up your cheeks. “Oh, right. Sorry,” you mumbled, standing up and hastily putting the first aid supplies back in their place. You could hear Hongjoong’s soft laughter behind you, a sound that sent a pleasant warmth through you, despite your embarrassment.

As you turned back to face him, you found him still smiling, a look of fondness in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat. He seemed different tonight—more open, more... vulnerable? It was as if the late hour and the intimacy of the shared space had stripped away some of his usual guardedness, revealing a side of him you hadn’t seen before.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, trying to sound annoyed but failing to hide the smile in your own voice.

“Nothing,” he replied, shaking his head. “Just... I’m not used to being shown any concern. It felt nice having you clean my wound, since I usually do that myself.”

You felt a pang of sympathy for him, wondering what his life must be like, always busy, always under pressure—and on top of that, always being his own savior. “Well, someone’s got to look out for you,” you said lightly, trying to ease the sudden heaviness in the air.

He nodded, his expression turning more serious. “I suppose you’re right.”

For a moment, the two of you just looked at each other, a silent conversation passing between you. There was so much you wanted to say, so many questions you wanted to ask, but the words seemed to stick in your throat. Instead, you just smiled, hoping that your expression conveyed the warmth and support you felt for him.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, breaking the silence. “For everything.”

You nodded, not trusting your voice. The moment felt fragile, like a bubble that could burst at any second, and you were afraid that saying too much might shatter the delicate balance between you.

As the room settled into a comfortable silence, you both resumed your tasks. The design for the autumn collection was nearing completion, but there were still some intricate details that needed attention. Hongjoong broke the silence, his voice cutting through the quiet like a soft melody. “Hey, could you help me with something?” he asked, his tone gentle.

You looked up, meeting his gaze. “Of course,” you replied, setting aside the fabric you had been working on. “What do you need help with?”

He gestured towards the piece he was working on, a delicate embroidery that required precision. “I’m struggling with this part,” he admitted, a hint of frustration in his voice. “The stitches need to be tighter, but my hands aren’t steady enough right now.”

You nodded, understanding the predicament. “Let me see,” you said, scooting closer to him on the floor. As you took the fabric from him, your fingers brushed against his, sending a small jolt through you. You tried to ignore the flutter in your chest coming back as you focused on the task.

Hongjoong leaned in to guide you, his breath warm against your cheek. “Here, you need to pull the thread like this,” he instructed, his voice low and soft. His proximity made your heart race, and you could feel the heat of his body close to yours. The scent of his cologne, subtle and earthy, filled the air between you.

You nodded, trying to keep your focus. The embroidery required delicate handling, and the small, detailed work was challenging. As you worked, your hands occasionally brushed against his, sending small electric shocks through your skin. Hongjoong seemed oblivious to the effect his closeness was having on you, or perhaps he was just as affected but hid it well.

“Your studio’s so awfully quiet,” you murmured, breaking the silence. The quiet had become almost oppressive, making you hyper-aware of every small sound and movement.

Hongjoong chuckled softly. “I usually play music when I’m working,” he admitted. “I don’t like the silence. It can feel... lonely.”

“Then why haven’t you played any songs so far?” you asked, genuinely curious. The thought of him working alone in silence, surrounded by the tools of his craft, seemed sad.

He paused for a moment, considering his response. A small smile played on his lips as he looked at you. “Your presence alone is enough to drown it all out,” he said simply, his eyes meeting yours. There was a sincerity in his voice that made your heart skip a beat.

The room felt suddenly smaller, the air charged with something unspoken as you felt warmth spread through you. Hongjoong’s words were unexpected, and they left you feeling both flattered and slightly overwhelmed. You returned his smile, unable to think of a response that could adequately express what you were feeling. It’s mildly frustrating how you could never seem to be able to trust the words wanting to come out of your mouth whenever he was around.

Once you were finally done with the task Hongjoong assigned you, you leaned back, a satisfied smile spreading across your face. It was a small victory, perhaps, but it felt like a significant one. Hongjoong noticed your expression and tilted his head in curiosity. “What’s the matter?” he asked, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

You shrugged, still smiling. “Nothing, really. It’s just... you asked me for help. I mean, you don’t usually do that, so it’s kind of a surprise.”

He mirrored your smile, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “I guess you’re right,” he admitted, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I don’t usually ask for help. But... I don’t know. I felt comfortable enough to ask you.”

There was a brief silence as he contemplated his own words, realizing at that moment just how much he had let his guard down around you. It was a strange feeling, one that left him feeling both vulnerable and relieved. It was dangerous, he knew, to let someone in so easily, especially in a world where trust was a rare commodity. But somehow, despite the potential risks, he found that he couldn’t bring himself to care. There was something about you that made him feel at ease, something that made the usual walls he kept up around himself feel unnecessary.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, his phone, which had been lying on the floor atop a piece of fabric, lit up with a notification. You glanced over and immediately recognized the wallpaper: a candid photo of Hongjoong with Pompidou, the one you had taken and sent him right before bed that night. You smiled, a soft, heartfelt expression. “You set that as your lockscreen?”

Hongjoong picked up the phone, a gentle smile gracing his lips as he looked at the image. “Yeah,” he admitted, glancing at you before reading the notification—a message from Wooyoung. It was one that demanded a response, but in that moment, he decided to just set his phone aside for now, his attention fully on you. “It’s only fair enough if I do the same thing you did, right?”

You chuckled, the sound light and airy. “I guess so,” you replied, the atmosphere between you warm and comfortable.

As the hours passed, you both became so engrossed in your work that time seemed to slip away unnoticed. It wasn’t until you both finally finished the design that you realized just how late—or rather, how early—it was. You stood up, stretching your arms above your head, feeling the satisfying ache of a long night’s work. The outfit you had both labored over was stunning—a perfect blend of deep, earthy tones and detailed embroidery, capturing the essence of autumn with its rich textures and warm hues. The fabric was soft yet structured, the design elegant yet grounded, reflecting the beauty of the season in every stitch.

You turned to Hongjoong, a wide grin on your face, and held both your hands up. He looked at you, confused for a moment, before realizing what you wanted. With a laugh, he raised his hands and high-fived you, the sound echoing in the quiet studio.

“Great job,” you both said almost simultaneously, laughter bubbling up between you. You glanced around the studio, the mess of fabrics and tools evidence of the hard work you had put in.

As the adrenaline of the work began to fade, you pulled your phone from your pocket, intending to check the time. When you saw the display, your eyes widened in shock. “It’s 4 in the morning already?” you gasped, incredulous.

Hongjoong glanced at the clock, a look of surprise crossing his face. “Wow, I didn’t even notice,” he said, running a hand through his hair. The fatigue was beginning to set in, but there was also a contentness in the air, a satisfaction over a job well done.

As the realization of the late hour settled in, both you and Hongjoong decided it was time to clean up the studio before heading home. The room was a testament to your hard work: sketches strewn about, fabrics piled in corners, and various tools scattered across the desks. Hongjoong paused, glancing at you with a gentle smile. “I’m just going to use the restroom real quick,” he said, his voice soft yet a little slurred.

“Go ahead,” you replied, waving him off with a tired smile of your own. As he left, you turned your attention to one of the desks, starting to gather the scattered mess. Your movements were slow, each task requiring more effort as exhaustion began to weigh heavily on you. Feeling your body grow weary, you dragged a chair over to the desk and sat down, intending to sort through the papers and materials.

But as soon as you rested your head on your folded arms, the world around you started to blur. The soft hum of the city outside, the quiet ticking of a clock somewhere in the studio—all these sounds faded into the background as your eyes fluttered shut. You hadn’t intended to fall asleep, but the comfort of the moment and the sheer exhaustion from the long night overcame you.

Just as you drifted off, Hongjoong returned to the studio, ready to continue cleaning. “Let’s—” he began, only to stop mid-sentence as his gaze fell upon you. You were peacefully asleep, your head resting on the desk, breathing softly. A tender smile crept onto his lips as he observed you, taking in the serene expression on your face. An unexpected gentle warmth in his chest then came by, yet it felt so on-brand with his nature that he didn’t even notice it.

Without a second thought, Hongjoong quietly crossed the room and scooped you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style out of the studio. You were light and fragile in his embrace, and he was careful not to jostle you. The hallway was quiet, the early morning light just beginning to seep through the windows, casting a soft glow on the scene.

Hongjoong carried you into his office, where he gently laid you down on the couch. He adjusted a pillow beneath your head, ensuring you were comfortable. Glancing around, he looked for something to cover you with, wanting to keep you warm. When he couldn’t find any spare fabric or blanket, he hesitated for a moment before pulling off his sweater, revealing the plain black shirt he wore underneath. He draped the sweater over you, its warmth and the faint scent of his cologne enveloping you.

He took a step back, his eyes lingering on your peaceful form. There was something intimate about the scene, a quiet moment of care that felt oddly significant. Hongjoong shook his head with a soft chuckle, feeling a strange mix of affection and concern.

With a sigh, he walked over to his office chair and sat down, glancing at the stack of papers and sketches on his desk. If he was still awake at this hour, he might as well get some work done. But as he picked up a pencil and began to sketch, his thoughts kept drifting back to you, sleeping soundly on the couch. The room was quiet, the only sound being the faint scratch of pencil on paper and your steady breathing.

You seemed to have already weaved the threads of your veins in the fabric of his mind, and it was dangerous.

—

Your eyelids flutter open, the soft murmur of voices slowly pulling you from sleep. You blink against the light filtering through the room, momentarily disoriented by your unfamiliar surroundings. As your vision clears, you see two figures across the room, engaged in a hushed conversation.

“I know you can only be quiet once a year, so why not use that trial card now and keep your voice down?” Hongjoong’s voice, though hushed, came off irritated.

“I’m not being loud!” came Wooyoung’s indignant reply, his voice just a tad louder than a whisper.

Their exchange halted abruptly as you sat up on the couch, instinctively pulling the sweater around you closer. The room was spacious, filled with a blend of modern and personal touches, but what caught your eye was the two men now looking at you, their conversation forgotten.

Hongjoong was the first to speak, “See? I told you not to be so loud,” he chided Wooyoung, who threw his hands up in mock defeat.

“Hongjoong?” you murmured, still groggy and a bit confused. Hongjoong was quick to leave his chair, grabbing a cup of coffee as he approached you. The rich aroma of the brew filled your senses as he placed the cup gently on the glass table in front of you.

“Good morning,” he greeted, his voice soft and soothing. “You fell asleep earlier at dawn while we were cleaning up the studio. I didn’t want to wake you, so I brought you here to my office.”

You nodded slowly, the events of the night starting to come back to you. As your consciousness fully returned, you noticed Wooyoung sitting comfortably in a chair across from Hongjoong’s desk. He offered you a friendly smile, his dimples deepening. “Hey there—didn’t mean to wake you up, sorry about that.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” you assured him, smiling back before turning your attention to Hongjoong, who had now taken a seat across from you. The atmosphere felt unexpectedly cozy, almost domestic.

“Did you end up cleaning the whole studio by yourself?” you asked, a hint of guilt in your voice.

Hongjoong shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “No, I just left it as it was when I brought you here. I finished cleaning up an hour ago.”

Wooyoung, not being able to hold back his curiosity, leaned forward slightly, “So, why were you here all night?” He figured it should be in his best interest to always throw out inquiries about your relationship with Hongjoong here and there whenever you were around, because 1. He and Seonghwa genuinely believe the details are their necessities, and 2. He will never be able to gather any intel from Hongjoong.

You chuckled lightly, the memory of the previous night making you feel both amused and sheepish. “We got too caught up finishing one of Hongjoong’s designs. We didn’t even realize how late it was until we were done.”

Wooyoung made a mental note to share this little tidbit with Seonghwa later while he gave you a playful grin, as if to say he knew something was up, but he didn’t press further.

Hongjoong then turned his attention back to you, his expression sincere. “Do you want to go home now? I can drive you to your apartment.”

You shook your head, remembering the errand you needed to run. “No, I actually have something to do today. My landlord asked me to pick up some flowers from a shop for her. She wants to change the arrangements in her vases.”

Hongjoong looked intrigued. “Does she have a specific flower shop in mind?”

“Yeah, she does,” you replied, nodding. “I know the address, but I’m not exactly sure how to get there.”

Without missing a beat, Hongjoong offered, “I can drive you there.”

You glanced between him and Wooyoung, feeling a bit hesitant. “Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want to leave Wooyoung here…”

Little did you know, Wooyoung was already picturing you and Hongjoong at a wedding venue, the image making him inwardly chuckle. He waved a dismissive hand, grinning. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

Hongjoong turned back to you, his eyes warm and reassuring. You sighed softly, finally giving in to his offer. He smiled, clearly pleased. As you stood up from the couch, you realized you were still clutching his sweater. You blushed, holding it out to him apologetically.

He shook his head, a gentle smile on his lips. “You should keep it and put it on. The weather forecast said it would be a bit windy today.”

You hesitated for a moment before slipping the sweater on, the fabric feeling warm and comforting against your skin. It hung loosely on you, a stark contrast to how it fit Hongjoong. The sight seemed to catch him off guard; his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, a look of something akin to awe crossing his features. Wooyoung cleared his throat, pretending to cough, snapping Hongjoong out of his thoughts. He sent Wooyoung an annoyed glare, which only made the younger man grin wider.

A few minutes later, you found yourself in Hongjoong’s car, the morning air crisp and slightly chilly. Despite the warmth of the sweater, you shivered a little, the coolness seeping in. Hongjoong noticed immediately, reaching over to turn off the air conditioner. You glanced at him, smiling gratefully. “Thank you,” you murmured, appreciating the small gesture.

As he drove, the city slowly waking up around you, the car ride was filled with a comfortable silence, broken occasionally by small talk. The earlier events played in your mind, the way Hongjoong had looked at you, the warmth in his voice, the care he showed. It was all so… unexpected, yet it felt oddly right. As the car moved smoothly through the streets, you felt a strange sense of contentment, a warmth that had nothing to do with the sweater or the car’s heater.

After a few more minutes of driving, the soft chime of bells greeted you as you and Hongjoong stepped into the quaint flower shop. The air was filled with the delicate fragrance of blooms, creating an atmosphere of calm and serenity. You couldn’t help but marvel at the array of flowers on display, each one vibrant and inviting in its own way.

“All the flowers look so beautiful,” you murmured, your eyes wandering over the petals and leaves.

Hongjoong glanced at you, a small smile tugging at his lips before he turned his attention back to the shop. “They sure do.”

A young woman behind the counter greeted you both with a warm smile, her voice cheerful. “Good morning! Please let me know if you need any assistance.”

You returned her smile, nodding politely. “Thank you, we will.”

As you and Hongjoong wandered through the aisles, the colors and scents enveloped you, making it feel like you were walking through a garden in full bloom. You turned to him, a playful glint in your eyes. “Hey, if you were a sweet old lady, what flowers would you like to put in your vases?”

He chuckled softly, considering the question with surprising seriousness. After a moment, he replied, “I think I’d choose peonies. They’re elegant, with layers of petals that unfold like a story. And they symbolize prosperity and good fortune—qualities any old lady would appreciate.”

You nodded thoughtfully, impressed by his choice and the sentiment behind it. As you pondered his suggestion, the soft melody of “La Vie en Rose” began to play through the shop’s speakers, filling the space with a romantic, timeless charm. You hummed along, the familiar tune bringing a smile to your face.

Suddenly, you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you found Hongjoong holding out a single rose, his expression playful. “For you, my lady,” he said with a dramatic flair.

You laughed, delighted by his unexpected gesture. Placing a hand over your heart, you accepted the rose with a mock curtsy. “Why, thank you, kind sir.”

The two of you shared a light-hearted laugh, the atmosphere between you warm and easy. The woman at the counter, watching your interaction with a knowing smile, subtly turned up the volume of the music, as if encouraging the moment. As the music swelled, Hongjoong offered his hand to you, a glint of amusement and sincerity in his eyes. “May I have this dance?” he asked, his voice low and inviting.

A smile spread across your face, the offer too delightful to refuse. Placing your hand in his, you allowed him to lead you into an impromptu dance. The two of you moved into the open space between the aisles, surrounded by the vibrant colors and fragrances of the flowers. Hongjoong began by twirling you gently, the world around you blurring as you spun, the music carrying you both into a rhythm that felt natural and unforced.

As he twirled you back toward him, you found yourself closer than before, your steps in sync as you followed his lead. Hongjoong’s movements were confident yet gentle, his hands guiding you with a surety that spoke of trust. He spun you out again, your skirts flaring slightly, and then pulled you back, his hand resting lightly on your waist as you moved together.

The dance took on a playful tone, with Hongjoong adding little flourishes—an extra twirl here, a playful dip there. You laughed, the joy of the moment bubbling up uncontrollably. Each movement felt like a conversation, unspoken yet understood, the two of you communicating through the language of dance. The flowers around you blurred into a vibrant backdrop, the soft hues of roses, daisies, and peonies blending together as you spun and swayed.

Hongjoong led you into a classic ballroom move, his hand firm on your back as he guided you into a dip. As you leaned back, your eyes locked onto his, the room seeming to narrow until it contained only the two of you. There was a shared breath, a moment suspended in time where the music, the shop, and the world outside ceased to exist. The dip was graceful, his hold secure, and for a brief moment, you felt as though you were floating, supported entirely by him.

As he pulled you back up, the song reached its crescendo, the final notes lingering in the air like a whispered secret. The two of you stood there, breathless and grinning, the joy of the dance and the unexpected intimacy of the moment lingering between you. The corners of your mouth lifted into a teasing smile as you remarked, “Didn’t know you had that whimsy in you.”

Hongjoong laughed in return, a sound that felt warm and familiar now, like a melody that lingered long after the music had ended. He shook his head, eyes crinkling with amusement. “And here I thought I was full of surprises.” He then paused, tilting his head slightly as he regarded you with curiosity. “But, I have to ask—have you ever taken ballroom dance lessons? You moved like you knew exactly what you were doing.”

You found yourself laughing again, shaking your head at the suggestion. “Not at all,” you replied, your voice light and amused. Unconsciously, you twirled the single rose he had given you during your playful dance, its soft petals brushing against your fingers. You hadn’t even realized you were still holding it, the delicate flower becoming an extension of the moment you had just shared.

Hongjoong’s eyes followed the movement of the rose, his expression thoughtful as you continued. “Dancing was just something I did for fun,” you explained, your tone growing a bit more nostalgic. “Back when I worked at the diner in Arcadia Bay, I’d sometimes be left alone to close up after a long shift. If it got really late, and the place was empty, I’d turn up the speakers and play whatever music I could find. The freshly cleaned floors made it easy to glide around, so I’d dance while I cleaned. It was my way of winding down, I guess.”

He leaned against the wall beside him, his posture relaxed yet attentive. A fond smile played on his lips as he listened, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his gaze softened. “I never would have guessed,” he said quietly, almost as if the thought was meant more for himself than for you.

You tilted your head, curiosity piqued by the tone of his voice. “Really?” you asked, your voice dropping slightly, matching the intimacy of the moment.

For a long, quiet moment, the two of you just looked at each other. It was one of those instances where words felt unnecessary, where the silence between you spoke volumes. The connection that had sparked during your dance now hung between you, a quiet understanding that neither of you was quite ready to acknowledge fully.

Hongjoong’s eyes held yours, the intensity of his gaze making the world around you blur into insignificance. The soft hum of the flower shop, the vibrant colors of the blooms, even the scent of fresh petals—all of it faded away until there was only him, standing just a few feet away, yet feeling impossibly close.

But then, the gentle chime of the shop’s doorbell rang out, breaking the spell. The sound was like a pin pricking the bubble that had formed around the two of you, pulling you both back to the reality of where you were. The moment shattered, and you blinked, the trance broken.

You cleared your throat, a slight flush of embarrassment coloring your cheeks as you tore your gaze away from Hongjoong’s. He straightened up, pushing himself off the wall, his own expression a mix of awkwardness and something else—something you couldn’t quite place.

“We should probably keep looking around,” you said, your voice sounding a little more hurried than you intended. You needed to anchor yourself back into the present, to remember why you were here in the first place.

“Yeah,” Hongjoong agreed, his tone softer now, almost subdued. His eyes flickered briefly to the floor before he glanced back up at you. “We should.”

After what felt like a careful, almost meditative process of choosing the right flowers, you and Hongjoong finally settled on a selection that seemed to embody the essence of Madame Dupont’s home. The bouquet was a harmonious blend of soft, pale pink peonies that spoke of tenderness and nostalgia, interspersed with the rich, deep purples of lilacs that exuded a subtle yet undeniable elegance. You added delicate sprigs of baby’s breath to weave through the arrangement, creating an ethereal touch that seemed to float among the other flowers. Finally, a few stems of white freesia were tucked in, their graceful blooms adding a layer of purity and lightness to the ensemble. It was a bouquet that, even in its stillness, seemed to tell a story—one of warmth, beauty, and timeless grace.

Satisfied with your choices, you and Hongjoong made your way to the counter to finalize the purchase. The young woman behind the register rang up your selection, and as the transaction was completed, you stepped away from the counter, your mind suddenly jolted with the realization that you had left your phone somewhere in the aisles.

“Oh, I think I left my phone in one of the aisles,” you said, turning to Hongjoong with a small, sheepish smile. “You can go ahead; I’ll just grab it and meet you outside.”

He gave a nod, a relaxed smile on his lips. “Sure, I’ll wait by the car.”

With that, you watched as he made his way toward the exit, the sunlight catching in his hair as he pushed the door open and stepped outside. You quickly retraced your steps through the aisles, scanning the shelves until your eyes finally landed on the familiar shape of your phone, resting innocently among the vibrant blooms. You let out a soft sigh of relief, the tension in your shoulders easing as you picked it up.

Just as you were about to head out, the florist’s voice called out to you, halting your steps mere moments before you could reach the door. You turned to face her, curiosity piqued by the sudden interruption.

“Can I ask you something?” she began, a playful glint in her eyes as she nodded toward the window, where Hongjoong was now leaning casually against his car, his attention elsewhere as he waited for you. “Are you two dating?”

The question caught you off guard, and you instinctively waved your hand dismissively, shaking your head with a quick, almost flustered laugh. “Oh, no, we’re just good friends,” you explained, the words tumbling out in an attempt to clarify. “He’s just helping me out with buying flowers for my landlord today.”

The florist nodded in understanding, though a knowing smile played on her lips. She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I think you two would look cute together, though.”

You blinked in surprise, your eyes widening at her unexpected comment. Before you could form a response, she leaned in even closer, her tone even more hushed as she added, “The security cameras actually caught footage of your cute little dance together. Do you wanna see it, by any chance?”

Do you?

The question hung in the air, wrapping itself around your thoughts as you considered the offer. Why would you want to see it? You told yourself it was just a silly moment, a fleeting bit of fun that didn’t hold any deeper meaning. But the more you thought about it, the more a strange, inexplicable curiosity began to take hold. The idea of watching that moment from an outsider’s perspective, of seeing the way you and Hongjoong moved together, felt oddly compelling. You couldn’t quite put your finger on why it mattered—or why you were even hesitating—but the thought lingered, tugging at the edges of your mind.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of internal deliberation, you found yourself nodding. “Sure, I guess I’d like to see it.”

But then, a new thought occurred to you, and your gaze flickered to the door where Hongjoong was still waiting. “But he’s waiting outside,” you murmured, the conflict between curiosity and courtesy evident in your voice.

The florist seemed to catch on immediately, her expression softening with understanding. “No worries,” she said, her tone light and reassuring. “I can send it to you. Here,” she quickly jotted down her contact number and handed it to you with a smile. “Maybe you’ll change your mind later, but if you ever get curious, I’m just a message away.”

Her words were punctuated by a knowing smile, one that hinted at an understanding beyond the surface of your interaction. You returned her smile, feeling a mix of gratitude and a strange sense of anticipation as you tucked the number away.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice sincere as you bid her farewell.

As you stepped outside, the warmth of the setting greeting your skin, you saw Hongjoong look up from his spot by the car. The brief exchange with the florist still lingered in your mind, but you pushed it aside, focusing instead on the simple pleasure of being in his company.

“There you are.” The look in his eyes was fond as he pushed himself off from his car, rounding it to open the passenger seat’s door for you.

You muttered a silent comment of gratitude with a smile, ducking your head as you went inside and shuffled in your seat for about a couple times until you felt comfortable. As Hongjoong went inside the car seconds later, he turned towards you. “What were you two talking about?”

“Oh, the florist?” You tilted your head, and he nodded. It took you a short while to respond as you looked down on your lap. Eventually, you decided to finally meet his gaze. “She was just… asking me who we bought flowers for.”

The look on Hongjoong’s face seemed like an implication that he wasn’t satisfied with your answer, but he decided not to press further, settling with a small smile as he leaned back on his seat and began driving on the way to your apartment. As you and Hongjoong settled into the comforting ambience of his car while admiring the scenery of the warm sky outside, on the flip side, Seonghwa and Wooyoung, who were now snooping around Hongjoong’s studio, were having the time of their lives psychoanalyzing whatever’s going on between the two of you.

“Oh—speaking of, when I was on my way to my office, I crossed paths with one of your fellow photographers and they asked me about her relationship with Hongjoong. Asked him why they were suddenly curious about it and apparently they saw her wearing the sweater Hongjoong would usually wear to work on his lazier days…” Seonghwa trailed off, and Wooyoung’s eyes widened at his words.

Wooyoung snapped his fingers in the air, getting lost in the moment and slamming his hands on one of the tables in Hongjoong’s studio. “Right! I forgot to tell you, but, see, here’s the thing. So, you already know she stayed the night here with the willingness to help Hongjoong finish one of his designs, right?”

Wooyoung waited for a silent nod from Seonghwa, seeing it as a sign for him to continue. When he got what he wanted with the older man, he cleared his throat and leaned forward. “I can’t be too sure about this, but when I visited his office earlier in the morning, she was there, laying down on his couch with his sweater draped over her.”

“I think some sort of seismic activity from my jaw hitting the floor just occured,” Seonghwa whispered to himself. “So, what else is there for me to know about the sweater?”

Wooyoung clasped his hands together, leaning back on his seat slightly. “She told him her landlord asked her to buy some new flowers for her vases today, and he offered to drive her there. At that moment, she realized she was still holding onto his sweater and held it out to him. But, much to the surprise of all of us in the room except for Hongjoong, he told her to not only keep it, but he also told her to wear it because the weather’s cloudy outside! I’m telling you, there has to be something going on between them!”

“I wouldn’t say that…” Seonghwa muttered in a low tone while rubbing his chin. “They’re definitely not dating yet, that’s for sure, but somehow… I feel like Hongjoong’s got heart eyes for her yet is blissfully unaware of it. I mean, you know how he is.”

Just as Wooyoung was about to contribute his own theories to the gossip session, his phone rang in his pocket. Pulling it out, he was greeted by a message notification from Hongjoong flashed on his lockscreen.

It might take a while before I can get back there. The traffic on the way to her apartment is horrible right now.

“...”

“Yep, he’s definitely unaware of it.”

—

“Um…”

You didn’t exactly have the capability to own up to your words, were you to ever say that you’re used to having guests come over your house. The first and last person who’s ever done such a thing was Chloe, and most of the time, she’d only wish to bask in the silence of your house when she felt like hers was becoming too loud to bear.

Now, here you were, feet swaying slightly to the sides as you fiddled with the hem of Hongjoong’s sweater that you haven’t noticed you still haven’t taken off, while he was settled comfortably on the couch, looking at you with a soft gaze—as always…?

“Is everything alright? It’s alright if you’ve changed your mind about having me stay over for dinner, just say the word and I’ll—”

“No, no, that’s not, um…” You were quick to wave your hands off, shaking your head and instinctively moving one step forward, as if to stop him from leaving your abode. “I just… Would you like some water? Or coffee, perhaps? Wait, no, sorry, that sounded so stupid, there’s no way you would want coffee at 7PM in the evening—”

His gentle laugh stopped your mouth from running even faster, and you looked at him with a confused gaze. “Is that why you’ve been silently staring at me for the past few seconds?”

“Well,” you began as you looked around the room, pressing your lips together, making it form a thin line. “I mean, I’m not used to having guests come over, so I just didn’t know what the appropriate thing to say was…”

“A glass of water would be lovely.”

“Right. A glass of water. Gotcha.”

His gaze followed you as you rounded the couch and made your way to the kitchen by your fridge, yet he turned his eyes back to the television in front of him the moment your head subtly moved to the side. Having a nice conversation with the carpet on the floor as he patiently waited for you to come back, he finally turned his head back up with a look of gratitude as you placed a glass of water on the table in front of him. “Thank you,” he said before chugging it all down in one go.

You settled down on the empty spot beside him, making the cushion underneath you sink. You turned your body slightly towards him, the fabric of his loose denim pants rubbing against the skin of your thigh lightly. “Is there anything you’d like to have for dinner? Any favorite dishes, maybe?”

“Actually,” he began, settling his palms on his thighs. “I was thinking we could cook dinner together. It wouldn’t be fair for you to do all the work, especially after a long day.”

You were quick to shake your head in protest. “Hongjoong, I’m the one who invited you over for dinner. It’s my responsibility to make sure everything’s taken care of. You’ve had a long day yourself, and I wouldn’t want to—”

“Let me.”

“...Please?” he soon added, looking at you with a mildly pleading gaze. After a few seconds of contemplation, you finally gave in, responding to his offer with a nod of resignation, which made him smile. It’s endearing how you never have to do anything alone, as long as he’s around. Just how much longer would it take until the idea of doing things without his aid becomes unimaginable?

As you and Hongjoong stood up and made your way to the kitchen, you decided to keep the conversation light and breezy, your earlier question slipping out again as you searched for a starting point. “So… is there any favorite dish you’d like to eat tonight?” you asked out of curiosity.

Hongjoong hummed thoughtfully, leaning against the counter as he crossed his arms. He tilted his head slightly, as if searching through the vaults of his memory. “Hmm… there is one dish that comes to mind, actually. It’s something my mother used to make for me all the time when I was a kid. It’s kind of a comfort food for me, I guess.”

Your interest piqued as you looked at him with anticipation. “Oh? What dish is that?”

He smiled warmly, the light in his eyes softening with nostalgia. “It’s a type of kimchi jjigae, but not just any kind. My mom would make it with extra soft tofu, lots of garlic, and a touch of sweetness from a bit of sugar or honey. She’d add in some pork belly, but the real kicker was the homemade anchovy broth she’d use. It gave the stew this deep, rich flavor that I haven’t been able to replicate on my own. And she always served it with freshly steamed rice and a side of crunchy radish kimchi.”

You could almost taste the dish as he described it, and you nodded along. “That sounds amazing. I’d love to try making it together—if you’re up for it?”

Hongjoong’s face brightened, and he smiled in excitement. “I’d love that too. I’ll do my best to guide you through it, but fair warning, my cooking skills aren’t nearly as good as my mom’s,” he joked while raising his hands in mock surrender.

“I literally worked at a diner for a good long while before I got fired for the most ridiculous reason ever. I’ve got you,” you reassured him with a smile.

You both began the process, starting with reaching for the tofu from the fridge. As you turned back, you nearly collided with Hongjoong. His hand was just inches from yours, holding the green onions, and the proximity caught both of you off guard. For a moment, you were both still, the space between you charged with something electric. His eyes met yours, and you saw a flicker of surprise there. Your breath hitched slightly, feeling your nerves go haywire until Hongjoong cleared his throat softly and took a step back.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured, his voice a little lower than before.

“No, it’s okay,” you replied quickly, your cheeks warming as you placed the tofu on the counter. The lingering closeness left your skin tingling, and you tried to focus on what you were supposed to do, but your thoughts kept drifting back to the way he had looked at you.

Hongjoong began instructing you on how to make the anchovy broth, and you both worked together, cleaning the dried anchovies and preparing the kelp, your hands occasionally reaching for the same ingredient at the same time. At one point, when you both reached for the soy sauce, his fingers wrapped around the bottle just as yours brushed against the cool glass. The brief contact made you both pause, and you glanced up to find him already looking at you, his expression annoyingly soft.

The moment stretched out, a silent exchange passing between you before he finally released the bottle, allowing you to take it. As you poured the soy sauce into the pot, you couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his mind—and if it mirrored the thoughts swirling in your own.

As you leaned over to check the pot on the stove, you felt Hongjoong’s presence close behind you. He didn’t touch you, but you could feel the warmth of his body just inches away, and the awareness of how close he was made your pulse quicken. His breath fanned lightly against your neck as he leaned in to adjust the heat, and for a split second, you thought he might press closer, but he didn’t. Instead, he lingered there, close enough that you could feel the energy between you, almost tangible in the small space.

“You’re really good at this,” he commented, his voice close to your ear, making your heart skip a beat. The compliment was simple, but for some reason, you felt something different due to the way the words came out of his mouth.

“Thanks,” you replied, your voice nearly hushed as you turned slightly to meet his gaze. “I just hope it turns out the way you remember.”

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. “I’m sure it will.”

The moment lingered longer than it probably should have, and you found yourself staring at him, your thoughts racing. His eyes were warm and inviting, and for a second, you wondered if he might be thinking the same thing you were. But before you could dwell on it, he stepped back, giving you room to breathe.

As you continued cooking, the conversation shifted to lighter topics—his favorite childhood memories, your own cooking mishaps, and the occasional joke that had you both laughing. At one point, when the time to add the garlic and kimchi to the pot came, you reached for a knife just as he did, your fingers accidentally grazing the back of his hand. You both froze for a moment, and when you pulled your hand back, he did the same, a soft laugh escaping his lips.

“Sorry,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on your hand for just a moment longer before he returned to his task.

“No problem,” you replied, feeling a bit flustered as you resumed chopping the garlic.

A little later, while you were stirring the pot, Hongjoong came up behind you, his hands gently guiding yours on the ladle. His touch was light, but the effect was immediate. Your heart skipped a beat as his fingers rested over yours, and you felt the warmth of his breath against your temple as he leaned in closer.

“You’re doing great,” he whispered gently.

As the stew continued to simmer, you found yourselves moving in closer proximity, your movements almost synchronized as you prepared the final touches. You were reaching for the lid of the pot, intending to cover it, when you suddenly felt Hongjoong’s hand on your lower back, a light touch that made you pause. He was standing behind you, his body just inches from yours, and you could feel the warmth of him seeping through your clothes.

You turned your head slightly to look at him, and the closeness of his face to yours caught you off guard. For a split second, you thought he might lean in and close the distance between you. The air was thick with anticipation, your breath caught in your throat as his gaze dropped to your lips.

But then, just as quickly as the moment had come, it passed. He stepped back, his hand leaving your back as he cleared his throat. “Let’s not overcook it,” he said lightly, but there was some sort of hesitance in his voice that hadn’t been there before.

You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and somewhat disappointment as you placed the lid on the pot.

As the final moments of cooking approached, when you reached for the soup bowls at the same time, your fingers brushed against his once more, but this time, neither of you pulled away immediately. You both laughed softly, but the way his hand lingered over yours told you there was more to this moment than just a little joke.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, your cheeks heating up as you finally withdrew your hand.

“It’s okay,” he replied, his voice soft, almost tender. “Really.”

When you both finally sat down to eat, the tension from earlier hung in the air like a weight you couldn’t quite shake. Hongjoong tried to focus on the meal, making small talk about the dish. “This really turned out well,” he said, breaking the silence with a warm smile. “You did a great job with the broth.”

You nodded, returning his smile, but you could feel your mind drifting back to those moments in the kitchen—the closeness, the way he felt so close, yet so far away. “Thanks,” you replied, trying to sound casual. “It’s all because you knew exactly what to do.”

Despite the light conversation, your thoughts kept slipping away from the food in front of you and back to the way his fingers had lingered on yours, how his breath had warmed your skin when he leaned in. You could hardly focus on anything else, and the awkwardness you felt only seemed to grow with each passing moment.

Hongjoong, on the other hand, seemed more composed, as if the closeness had been as natural to him as breathing. You could tell that the only unease he felt was a reflection of your own, a mirror to the nerves that were slowly tying you up in knots. But even so, there was something in his eyes—something just beneath the surface that told you he wasn’t completely unaffected either.

“This is really good,” you commented after a few bites, desperate to fill the silence with anything other than your racing thoughts. “I’d love to eat this more often.”

He looked up at you, a small, pleased smile forming on his lips. “I’m glad you like it. It’s one of my favorites.”

You hesitated for a moment, your mind scrambling for something else to say, something to ease the tension, even if only slightly. “You’ll have to come over more from now on,” you joked. “So we can make it again.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you realized how they might have sounded, and your heart skipped a beat. You hadn’t meant it to come out that way, but now it was too late to take it back.

Hongjoong paused, his fork hovering in midair as he glanced up at you. For a moment, he just stared, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as his gaze lingered on your lips.

You tried to focus on your food, your grip on the utensils slowly loosening as you found yourself getting lost in his eyes. It was as if everything around you had faded away, leaving only the two of you in that quiet, dimly lit room. Not even the warm lights scattered all over your living room were able to help. You glanced down at his lips, and for a second, you thought he might be leaning in closer, that maybe this time he wouldn’t hesitate.

But then you quickly tore your gaze away, trying to steady your breathing. “Your food’s getting cold,” you muttered, the words coming out softer than you intended.

Hongjoong blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, and he quickly looked away, clearing his throat. “Right, sorry,” he replied, a touch of embarrassment in his voice as he rubbed the back of his neck. You noticed his hand ghost over his face, as if trying to hide the rosy tint that had crept into his cheeks.

Fortunately, before you knew it, dinner was already over, and you found yourselves standing at your front door, the cool evening air slipping in from the hallway. Hongjoong shifted slightly, his hand lingering on the doorframe as he turned to face you.

“Thanks for inviting me over today,” he said with a gentle smile. “I had a really great time.”

You smiled back, though you couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “No, thank you for coming with me to buy those flowers. I probably would’ve been lost without your help.” You let out a light laugh, hoping to ease the tension you both felt, but it only seemed to make it more palpable.

As the conversation lulled, you became acutely aware of just how close he was standing, the space between you shrinking as the seconds ticked by. You could feel your pulse quickening, a soft flutter in your chest that made it hard to breathe normally. There was a moment of silence, just the two of you standing there, lost in each other’s eyes.

You took a small step forward, and almost unconsciously, he did the same, the gap between you closing even further. His hand slowly began to rise, moving towards your neck but stopping just short of touching your face. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he hesitated as if unsure whether he should take that final step.

For a second, you convinced yourself that he wouldn’t actually do it, that he would pull back just like before. But then, to your surprise, his hand found its way to your face, his touch gentle as his fingers brushed against your cheek.

Almost without thinking, you nuzzled into his hand, welcoming the touch as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Your own hand came up to rest on top of his, your fingers curling around his as if to anchor yourself in the moment, to make sure it wasn’t just a dream.

But just as you were about to say something, to lean in just a bit closer, the shrill ring of his phone cut through the quiet, startling you both. You flinched slightly, pulling back as you glanced down at the screen, which displayed Wooyoung’s name.

The sudden interruption felt like a cold splash of reality, and you quickly stepped back, trying to regain your composure. “You might need to answer that,” you mumbled, turning your face to the side to hide the disappointment in your expression.

Hongjoong hesitated, clearly torn between ignoring the call and staying in the moment with you. But seeing how you had pulled away, he sighed softly and stepped back as well. “Yeah, I probably should,” he said, his voice tinged with regret. “He’s been trying to reach me all day.”

You let out a small, forced laugh, finally looking back at him. “See you when I see you?”

He nodded, a reassuring smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yeah, see you when I see you.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing in the doorway, watching as he disappeared down the hall. The moment the door closed behind him, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, leaning against the door as you slid down onto the floor.

Your heart was still racing, the memory of his touch still lit aflame, and you couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if Wooyoung hadn’t called—if that tension would have finally broken, or if you both would have continued to dance around it, pretending it wasn’t there.

It was all confusing, truly. The way his gaze kept traveling back and forth between your lips and your eyes, the way he kept initiating small touches here and there that seemed to still have been lingering on your skin even up till now, the way it felt like you two were separate threads tangled up in each other attempting to break free from the knot. What was most confusing was how you didn’t even mind any of it. Maybe it was all bound to happen, maybe the circumstances required the proximity, maybe he just couldn’t move around that much.

But your kitchen wasn’t even that small.

🪞 — lividstar.

#౨ৎ﹒ノ﹒lividstar．#hongjoong #hongjoong fluff #hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong #kim hongjoong x reader #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez angst #hongjoong angst #jung wooyoung #park seonghwa

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