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luvjunie · 1 year

Text

— broken promises

pairing: earth 42 miles x fem!reader

summary: while earth 42 miles comes off a lot tougher than 1610’s based off his cold demeanor and his trauma induced apathy, somewhere under that hard shell, he’s still the sweet boy he used to be and wants love just like anyone else. miles is aged up to 17 in this, simply for the plot! wc: 2,640

contains: spoilers!!! angst to fluff

word bank: “mi vida” - my life, “mi amor” - my love

playing now: Wasted Love Freestyle by Jhene Aiko

You and Miles have been dating for 7 months now, and lately he hasn’t been around as much as he’d like to, for obvious reasons. Well, not obvious to you. You still don’t know that Miles is the Prowler, and he’s intent on keeping it that way.

It’s the third time he’s flaked on plans he arranged himself this month, and he can tell you’re beyond tired of it with the way you just blew his phone up.

— Miles POV —

Miles’ phone buzzes in his pocket but he decides against checking it, marking it off as something unimportant. He’s already accepted a job from his Uncle and a distraction wouldn’t do him any good right now.

8:03 PM

Mi Vida: please don’t tell me you’re doing this again bro.

Mi Vida: this is a joke, right?

Mi Vida: hello?? you were supposed to be outside thirty minutes ago.

Mi Vida: Miles Gonzalo Morales I swear to GOD if I don’t hear your motorcycle revving outside in the next five minutes so help me.

*buzz buzz*

Ignored.

*buzz buzz*

He kissed his teeth, lashes fluttering in aggravation and air puffing through his nostrils at the continuous buzzing against his leg. His shoulder fell to the side a bit as he reached down into his pocket to grab his phone while he climbed up the stairwell, following his uncle. Seeing your contact name on his lock screen, his brow raised as he read over the message, then they bunched together in the middle of his forehead incredulously, the tone of your texts causing his strides to falter.

Miles was genuinely confused for a moment, trying to think back on if he’d done anything to upset you, until the memory of him assuring you he wouldn’t do this again slapped him across the face harder than his mom did that one time he’d cursed at her on accident. The two of you had a date planned for tonight, and he swore to you he’d be there this time, fifteen minutes early at that, even though he knew there was a big chance he wouldn’t be able to make it all. It was selfish of him to promise something he couldn’t guarantee, knowing how demanding the other factors in his life were, but he was so tired of disappointing you, and how happy you looked when he told you you guys would finally get to spend some time together really had him thinking he could make it work this time.

Eyes falling shut for a beat, a heavy sigh leaves his lips, tongue darting out to dampen them as he quickly tries to think of something to respond with that won’t piss you off more than you already are.

He texts you back: sorry Mami, something came up yk how it is. i got you tomorrow tho fasho

Yeah. Real smooth.

*buzz buzz*

Mi Vida: yk what, just forget it, Miles.

Damn, she called me by my first name? I definitely fucked up this time. He thinks to himself.

Mi Vida: whoever you’re with is clearly more important to you than what we got goin on, so it’s cool. stay where you at, i’m done

Shit.

His heart beats a little faster in his chest, the sensation a semblance of something he hadn’t felt in years. Fear. He texts back as fast he can, head snapping up to see he’s fallen behind his Uncle, and he hurriedly jumps a few stairs before he comes to a stop again.

Miles: done??? the fuck you mean you done?

You don’t respond fast enough for his liking, so he double texts.

Miles: baby stop playin. you trippin it ain’t even like that at all

Mi Vida: i’m deadass. don’t call my phone.

He utters a string of curses under his breath, alerting his Uncle who had already noticed he was falling behind when he heard the inconsistency of his nephew’s footsteps. He’s ample steps above Miles, turning his head only slightly over his shoulder to address the distracted teenager.

“C’mon man, get off the phone. We got business to tend to. You in or you out?” Aaron asks. “You know I can’t have nobody holdin’ me back.” There’s a hint of something deeper playing within his words, and Miles knows he doesn’t have a choice.

He swallows hard as he looks up at the older man. Taking one last look down at his phone, his jaw clenches in contemplation before he’s shaking his head with a quiet sigh and shoving it back into his pocket. He’ll have to deal with this later.

“My fault. Yeah, I’m in.” He mumbles, doing a quick jog to catch up to the man.

His uncle’s lips quirk into a smirk, a heavy hand coming down to clap Miles’ back and squeeze his shoulder.

“My man. Aight, let’s roll.”

— Your POV —

8:05 PM

You: i’m deadass. don’t call my phone.

You watch closely as the three dots bubble at the bottom left corner of your screen, an indicator that he was typing. But instead, a quiet scoff slips from your mouth when they disappear, your shoulders slumping in disappointment at the word that appears below your last message.

Seen

You angrily toss your phone onto your bed, bottom lip quivering when you catch a glance at yourself in the mirror when you walk by. You’d gotten dressed up all nice just for him, because you knew the chance of him being free for a night to take you out was rare. You’d started your makeup early just to make sure he wouldn’t have to wait outside for you while you finished, and you’d even styled your hair the way you knew he liked. All for nothing.

You kicked your shoes off and dropped your purse to the ground, heading to your bathroom to undo all your work. You washed all the makeup off your face, the act feeling more humiliating than ever when you remembered why you’d even put it on in the first place. To feel pretty for someone who barely even showed up.

You closed your eyes and tried to calm down, hastily reaching back over to check your phone just one more time. Maybe he was thinking of what to say, and that’s why he’d left you on seen.

Seen 25 minutes ago

Maybe not.

You hated crying. And more than anything you were tired of doing it, especially when broken promises were the cause of your wasted tears. Your evening was basically wasted, and you weren’t in the mood to do anything else anyway, so you decided that you’d call it a night and head to bed early. You slipped on some comfy sleep shorts, tying your hair up for the night before grudgingly tugging a large t-shirt over your head. Your brow perked up at the scent that wafted past your nostrils, and pinching the shirt with your forefinger and thumb, you brought the fabric to your nose and immediately caught a whiff of Miles’ cologne. You then realized you’d put on a shirt you stole from him a while back, and the way your heart fluttered made you even more upset than you already were. You brushed it off to the best of your ability and crawled into bed, trying your hardest to keep your sniffling to a minimum as you pulled your blankets over your shoulder.

____

As soon as he’d gotten the job done and his Uncle gave him the okay to dip, Miles’ feet were moving at the speed of light down the stairwell. And while he had sort of rushed the plays he made with some of the city’s goons, he just had to pray that all his Uncle’s money was in the banded wad of cash he returned with, or it would be his ass.

Skipping a few steps he hopped down onto the platform before the next set, checking his phone for the time simultaneously.

10:15 PM

“Damn.” He groaned, pushing through the doors, cool wind hitting his face. Once he reached his motorcycle he shoved his helmet over his head, hopped on, and sped off with a “skrrrt”.

He sped through the streets carelessly, something you definitely would’ve scolded him for had you been riding on the back of his bike with him, with your arms tight around his waist to hold on like you always did. He bobbed and weaved through cars, lane splitting between a few of them and he may have even ran a red, but he wasn’t paying enough attention to remember. All he could focus on was that you said you were “done”, whatever the hell that meant, and he was adamant on making sure you weren’t.

____

You didn’t know when you’d dozed off, three steady knocks, a fourth one after a pause hitting against your window, resulting in your eyes snapping open at the disruption. You sat up on your mattress, the ball of your hand rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you peered across the room. Once they adjusted in the darkness and you recognized the familiar, lanky body of your boyfriend standing outside on the fire escape, the events of just two hours ago played over in your mind like a record.

With a roll of your eyes, you huffed and swung your legs over the side of your bed, pushing yourself onto your feet. Miles watched as you sleepily trudged over to the window, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, head slightly lowered and tilted to the side, as if he were already apologizing before you’d even made it to him.

Hooking your fingers underneath the edge of your window, with a quiet grunt you pulled it up, effectively lifting the barrier between your bodies. You instantly felt your yearning for him come back full force, and wanted nothing more than to throw yourself into his arms, but you restrained. Your eyes met his, the cool night air breezing into your room, and his heart clenched. Somehow he was able to feel the coolness in your demeanor, yet the cold weather hadn’t bothered him at all.

He was the first to speak.

“Hola, Mami.” He sized you up once, taking notice of your eyes that were slightly puffy from crying.

His voice was like silk to your ears, alluring and confident, almost hypnotizing, and it aggravated you that you felt yourself gravitating towards him off two simple words.

“Why are you here, Miles?” You sighed, arms slapping at your sides in exasperation.

He looked slightly taken aback, chin lifting a bit as if you’d asked something completely outlandish.

“What you mean why I’m here? You my girl, shit, this my crib too.” He shrugged, so nonchalant, as if nothing had happened. You wondered if it had even been him texting you earlier.

“You left me on seen, remember? Stood me up, too?” Your head cocked to the side to match the attitude in your tone, brows raising at him. What excuse would he use this time?

He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling heavily before he spoke up again.

“I was… busy. Look, my bad, okay? You gon’ let me in or what? Ian come all the way over here to stand outside.” He demanded with a gesture towards the opening, his hazel eyes glinting in the moonlight and thawing the ice that’d been temporarily encased around your heart. There was the smallest hint of a smirk on his lips, because he already knew the answer.

Your lips pursed and you stepped to the side, a laggard arm stretched out beside you, silently granting him access to your room.

He stepped through the window frame and you closed it after him, his hands folding around the collar then the hem of his jacket as he adjusted it and turned towards you.

“I can’t keep doing this with you, Miles. It isn’t fair.” You mumbled, hating the way your voice split your words.

His head dipped to the side a bit as he took in your solemn expression and the way your gaze was cast to the floor, as if you were trying to contain your tears. He wasn’t the best at this, he knew that, and showing affection effectively really wasn’t his strong suit. He usually made it up to you by bringing you a few hundreds he’d made from a deal, paired with some roses he’d picked up on the way to your house at the last second— but you both knew paper and flowers wouldn’t fix it this time.

“I’m sorry, I mean it.” He said, reaching for your hand to bring you close and grateful when your eyes finally lifted to lock onto his, although seeing them tear-filled wrapped him in a deep-seated emotion he didn’t even want to acknowledge.

Miles rarely said he was sorry. If ever. Did he apologize? Yes, but it was usually a ‘my bad’ or a ‘my fault’, or some other term that’d get the point across without him have to use too much emotion. Hearing the words ‘I’m sorry’ from him was an anomaly, it happened once in a blue moon, so this time you knew he really meant it. In your heart you knew he meant it, but that didn’t stop the tear you’d been trying to keep at bay from rolling down your cheek.

His thumb caught the tear almost instantly, swiping it from the soft of your skin. It didn’t belong there, and he hated to be the reason why you were crying in the first place.

“Where do you disappear to, Miles?” You sniffled.

He sighed, glancing back over at the window. He considered telling you the truth, but he knew he couldn’t.

“I’m just tryna keep you safe, ma.”

“You always say that!” You squeaked, making sure to keep your voice down, you had technically snuck him in. You ripped your hand from his grasp, turning your face away from him as another tear fell. “Do you not trust me or something? Is that it?”

“Of course I trust you,” His eyebrows knit together at your question and he stole your hand from your side again.

“So why can’t you tell me?” You pleaded, eyes big and glossy.

“I just-“ He paused. “I can’t let you get hurt. The shit I do…” You watched as he hesitated, like even speaking about the subject pained him. “It ain’t good.” He swallowed, a hand coming up to cup your cheek. “And I’ll be damned if I put you in the middle of my shit. I love you… okay?” He moved closer to you, and when you turned from him once again he brought your face right back to his, this time with both his hands. He wasn’t going to let you go, and while Miles was rough around the edges, and seemingly devoid of any emotion other than anger or resentment for the world—he always handled you with care.

“I love you, Y/n, I put that on everything. I’ll burn this whole world down for you, you hear me? Don’t think I won’t.” He stared into your eyes longingly, intent on making sure you didn’t just hear every word, but that you understood them, too.

You couldn’t help but lean into his hand, your own coming up to hold at his wrist as you inhaled shakily and gave him a bleak nod.

That wasn’t enough for him. He needed to hear you say it.

“Do you understand?” He articulated his words, bringing his head down slightly to match your height a bit more.

“I understand.” You said softly, looking up at him through your lashes before your gaze fell to his lips. He took that as his sign, leaning forward and bringing you into a kiss.

You melted into him immediately, like you always did, eyes fluttering closed as your lips moved against his, and as his hands fell to your hips to pull you in closer, like they always did.

You broke the kiss for air, your hand resting on his bicep and your lips ghosting his as you spoke, as you shared the same breath. “I love you too…” You breathed, standing on your toes.

“Good,” You felt him grin before he pulled away, his hand pinching your chin to make you look at him. “Cause you not leaving me, ever. I can’t let no one else have you, Mami, you know that.” He cooed.

You felt heat flush your cheeks, a smile you couldn’t hide finally spreading on your face.

“Yeah yeah, I know.” You answered, chewing at your bottom lip. “Can you stay?” You whispered, eyes shifting between his hopefully as you awaited his answer.

“Ah…” He rubbed at the back of his neck, piping up again before you could get disappointed. “What about your moms?”

“She sleeps in on the weekends, you just gotta be outta here by nine. Please, pa?” You whined, already reaching for his hands.

He chuckled to himself and shook his head slightly, having to look away from the adorable look on your face. He tried to remain in denial of the fact that he was so deep in love with you he could hardly think sometimes, let alone say no, but he was failing. Miserably.

“Of course I’ll stay, mi amor.”

Your expression lit up, a toothy smile brightening your features as he let you lead him to your bed.

He made sure to remove his shoes before he laid down, settling on his back. He extended his arm out to you as he tucked the other behind his head, motioning for you to join him with his fingers.

You crawled into his open embrace, getting comfortable on top of his chest and nuzzling your head under his chin. You began to feel drowsy the second he wrapped his arm around you, a yawn leading your eyes to water. His hand slowly moved from where it was resting on your back, dipping beneath the hem of your shirt, the warmth of his skin against yours comforting to you. His large hand rubbed up and down the expanse of your back, the tips of his fingers drawing lines along your spine— you always fell asleep easier when he did that. You listened to the steady beating of his heart, fingers idly toying with the gold chain he kept around his neck.

“I’m really sorry I ain’t make it tonight. I know you prolly got all pretty for me n’shit… and I wish I got to see it, but that’s on me.” He grumbled. He’d beat himself up over this for a while.

“S’okay.” You say it is, but he knows it’s not. He knows better. “I missed you.” Your quiet voice murmured from below him as you scooted in impossibly closer.

His jaw tensed as he stared up at your ceiling, a deep breath from his diaphragm raising you a little bit with his chest, and lowering you as he released it. “I know.” His response was hushed, and as sleep continued creeping in, you wondered if you’d imagined it.

But when you felt a long, drawn-out kiss press to the top of your head, his hand rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades, you knew it was real. The last thing you heard before you dozed off was his voice, mellow and gentle as he assured you.

“Ima do better, mama. I promise, for real this time.”

- do not copy, plagiarize, or post my works onto a different platform.

likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated!

#miles morales fanfiction #42 miles morales #miles g morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction #miles morales prowler #prowler miles #prowler miles fanfic #earth 42 miles fluff

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koostattoos · 6 months

Text

~ Pairing: jock!Jungkook x nerd!reader

~ Genre: academic rivals to lovers, fluff, angst, smut, college au, slowburn

~ Summary: Summer vacation was right around the corner. Being in a program that required you at the beach every day was a big pro. After seeing Jeon Jungkook at the same beach as you everything was ruined. Jungkook was the school’s heartthrob. Girls throwing themselves at him left and right, going to parties every other day, and coming in and out of those parties with different girls. Not to mention he’s the biggest dick you’ve ever met. Avoiding him was all you could think about. His being there threw avoiding him out the window. What’s the worst that could happen?

~ teaser wc: 667

full fic here!

For the past thirty minutes you sat staring at your suitcase still trying to figure out what the hell to pack. The program that you joined had asked everyone if they wanted to go on a trip for extra credit to work for the beach down by Busan for junior year. Not that you needed it, you had zero plans made for this summer.

Niki’s out of town visiting her family for the summer and Sohee’s out doing what Sohee does, probably out exploring abandoned places or getting high somewhere. Who knows? You decided to get up and start packing. You walked over to your closet to skim over your outfits and carefully picked out a few outfits for the next few months. After two hours of packing, your phone dings with a notification from Niki

Niki: omg can’t believe it’s summer already! have fun on your little trip down to Busan. If anything happens call or text me right away! Luv ya!

You smile down at your phone. You and Niki have been friends for years, you first met in your freshman year of high school. She taught you everything, from how to do your make-up and style your clothes and all that fun stuff. Funny how you both got into the same college and ended up sharing the same dorm. She’s gone around the campus having different guys in and out. You would say you guys are complete opposites. You would rather stay in and watch a movie or something instead of going out and partying with drunk college students and grinding my body against sweaty skin.

After finishing up the last of your packing you respond.

Me: hey girl, omg I know! The school year went by so fast, say hi to your mom n dad for me and give Nani kisses for me! And of course, you’ll always be the first to know everything! Luv u too! Enjoy your summer 💞

Putting your phone down you go to check when you were supposed to leave and meet everyone at the train station. The ticket said 8:00 am. You set your alarm for tomorrow and get ready for bed. Checking your phone for the last time you turn the lights off and drift off to dream land.

Waking up to your alarm clock blaring in your ear. It’s near 6:00 am, you get up and start getting ready. Walking into the bathroom you bring out your skin care routine. After finishing up and brushing your teeth, you go back to where your vanity is and start with your makeup.

Choosing what to wear was easy, you chose a simple outfit. An oversized black hoodie, black parachute cargos, and white gamma forces. You come out of your room to the living room and take your bag off the counter and get the rest of the bags for the trip. The drive to the train station took longer than expected. Traffic was horrible. The ride was said to be only about 30 minutes, you ended up getting there about an hour later.

After blasting music on the way there you had finally arrived, you see a few of your classmates from previous classes and walk up to say hi. “Yunjin!” You shouted her name, catching her attention. She waves at you and starts making her way over. “Oh my god hey girl!” She goes in for a hug and starts talking about the next two months. “This is so exciting! I’ve been waiting for this trip for so long, I hope we get free time because I’m too exhausted from all those tests.” She says with low shoulders. Out of nowhere she gasps and turns to you “You’ll never fucking guess who I just saw” You look at her with a curious face “Who?” she leans in closer “Jeon Jungkook”. Your face had gone red. Hearing Jungkook’s name coming out of her mouth left you shocked. Not forgetting the history, you and the boy had.

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook #bts jungkook #fic: endless summer #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook

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runningfrom2am · 1 month

Text

cold nights // part thirty-one

summary: you were back in the capitol, and you would be damned if you didn't try your hardest to make it worthwhile.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.6k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: heyyyy ttpd has got me fucked up and ALSO guess who heard from her ex for the first time in years?? that's been so dope and not at all causing me to spiral over the last like week :) anyway missed this series so here.

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

"You didn't have to come." You whisper in the dark, the open window doing very little to illuminate the room without the help of the stars.

"Yes I did." Lennox answers you, matching your hushed tone. You roll onto your side so you're facing him, smiling slightly. Sejanus had given you both your own rooms, but rarely did a night go by where you didn't miss sharing that mattress on the floor with your brother back home.

"Did Sej have to convince Ma to let you come?"

"He didn't ask me to come." You feel the pillows shift as he shakes his head. "He told me what was goin' on, and I said I'd be on the next train and that was that." He pauses, chuckling to himself. "I appreciate you havin' your meltdown on the last day of the month, by the way. Was awful convenient for me."

"Yeah, me too." You giggle. "How was your Halloween?"

He shrugs, tucking his hands behind his head as he stares up at the ceiling. "It was alright. Same old."

"Did you do a costume this year?" You ask, already knowing he didn't. Apparently sixteen was too old for that- he was too "cool" for that now.

"Nah." He laughs. "You?"

"Yeah." You whisper, your smile dropping slightly. "I was Juliet, Tigris helped me make it."

"I'm sorry, but that means nothing to me." He chuckles, looking over at you.

"Well, it was an angel costume. We made the wings, and Coryo was supposed to be Romeo. We made his too. I was real proud of it, he was 'sposed to be a knight." You explain.

"But he didn't wear it?"

You just shake your head.

"Prick." Lennox mutters.

"He actually... ruined it on purpose." You whisper. "Poured red wine all down the front."

"Why the hell would he do that?" Lennox frowns. "I mean, I coulda' told you that guy was an asshole, but that's just cruel."

"It was my fault." You admit. "I didn't tell him that couples costumes were a thing until the day of. I didn't give him a choice, and I should have asked if he was okay with that."

"No... No, Y/N/N, don't do that." You feel him shake his head again, dragging a hand down over his face in frustration.

"Don't do what?"

"Blame yourself." He states. "You coulda' asked, sure, but I can't think of a problem he could possibly have with it. That's, you know, actually a valid reason."

"You know how they feel about us here, bug." You say softly, reaching out to push his hair back for him from where it had been pushed down on his forehead. "Sej has never really fit in, and he's been here ten years. I can't expect to walk in and have everything be perfect. Of course he's going to be a little embarrassed."

"But you can expect someone who's supposed to love you to be willing to prove it." Lennox says frustratedly. "You taught me that. So don't go changin' on me now."

"I would never." You smile slightly. "But... real life is different. Real love is different, I think."

"Real love shouldn't be embarrassing." He mumbles. "Not that I know a thing about it, but I think he's an idiot. I mean, I'd wear a matching costume with you tomorrow if you asked. I'd do anything for you."

"I know you would." You smile sadly. There are a few beats of silence between you while you remember all the signs you missed. Coryo telling you the school was strict about physical contact, causing you to turn a blind eye to other students kissing or holding hands in the halls and him hugging Clemensia that very same day. Him telling you to give him space when your only crime was standing too close. The only times he would hold your hand in public being in the backseat of their car or under a desk or table, hidden from view.

"He's lucky to have ya. Hell, we all are." Lennox says after a moment. "If any of these stuck-ups had any humanity they would treat you just the same. I'm not here to convince you to come home, but I think you're better off with us. That's all. At least at home, you're treated normal."

"But I'm not." You reply. "Not anymore. I might as well take this chance to get an education, so I can get a good job and go home and provide for you guys. Dad could retire instead of workin' himself to death in those mines, and Ma would never have to patch another pair of coveralls for as long as she should live. You could do whatever you wanted, bug. You could go to school too if that's what you decide. I could buy you a house, a bike, anything you want in the world."

"That's great and all, but I don't give a shit about that stuff anymore." Lennox tells you honestly. "As long as you're... alive, I guess, we're happy just the way things were. We talked about it a lot. That we'd give anything just to have you back."

A smile twitches on your lips. "I get it." You agree quietly. "But if I can get something for all of us out of having to go through... all of that, I'm gonna take it. Then we can all be together and all the better for it."

"For how long? Until one of us gets hitched and has kids, and then in twenty years we're sending them back here to go through the same shit you did?" He argues. "It's all for nothing. We just gotta make the time for each other while we can."

You chew on your lip, sick at the mere mention of your kids possibly getting picked. Or, god forbid Lennox getting picked in the last three years his name is entered in the reaping, and the number of entries increasing with every passing year. "I suppose." You agree. "But, can you keep a secret?"

He smiles at the familiarity as he looks over at you. "You know I can."

"Coryo is gonna be the next president. I'm sure of it." You whisper. "He's sure of it, too, it's all he's been raised for."

"Forgive me for not feeling reassured by that fact."

"No, but you should." You insist. "He's... He's a good man. He knows how to do the right thing, and I'm sure he'll call off the games one day. He has to."

You can hear your brother's sharp intake of breath. "If he's got you, he will." He mumbles in realization and you nod slightly.

"I think I'll be able to help. To actually do something good if I stick with him." You whisper.

"That's... a lot of pressure." Lennox agrees. As of right now, Coriolanus Snow is far from in his good books. 'If he was, I'd burn my library.' He recalls you laughing over the line in the book, recounting it to him just a couple of months prior. He wants to see you like that again. Happy. Yourself. But if you have to throw that away to save a future of who knows how many children, would that even be worth it to him? He feels guilty for thinking that it wouldn't.

"I love him, Len. I do." You assure him, somehow seeming to track his thought process. "I just don't know... If he truly feels the same way about me. I thought he did, when we were back home. When he came to Twelve, he was different than he is here."

"That's not fair." He replies quietly, deciding that now would certainly not be the time to bring up the fact that if you did end up marrying the future President of Panem, that would mean there would be no "coming home" for you. This, here, a city that tore you apart and left him to try and pick up the pieces, would be your home. He knows that as much as you love him and your parents, you're too noble to give up the chance to spare his children from your fate. He wants to hate you for it, but he never could. "That you have to defend him at all, I mean. You deserve to be angry sometimes, Y/N/N."

"It's fair." You smile slightly. "I just... I was so sure he was the one for me. You know? He cared about me when no one else did, he risked so much for me. You can hate him all you want, but that doesn't change the fact that he saved my life."

"That doesn't mean you owe him your love."

"I know that." You whisper, lips pursed in thought as you pause to figure out what you want to say. "But I think I would love him anyway. More than anything, I feel bad that I put him in this position."

Lennox shakes his head abruptly. "You didn't do anything. He made this decision, that apparently he wants you here, so he shouldn't be "embarrassed" of you, or whatever. Not at all."

"I don't know what to do, bug." You admit quietly. "I don't want to leave him. I don't want him to leave me behind now that the Games are over and done. I feel like for a while it was like... like I was a shiny new toy. And now I'm not clean and fun anymore."

"You really love him?" He asks, and you nod. He sighs, rubbing his eyes. "Then I can't believe I'm sayin' this, but you've gotta talk to him."

You open your mouth to speak, a small smile forming on your lips at his acceptance despite your nervousness about seeing Coryo again. "But don't let him off the hook yet, just let him plead his case." Lennox adds.

"I have to, bug."

"You're too forgiving." He replies, understanding but still disappointed. "I don't want to see you hurt."

"If I couldn't forgive, I would be ruined."

Coriolanus doesn't know what to do other than to go and get you before school come Monday morning. He hadn't heard from you, but Tigris insisted that you just needed your space. So he left a little early, the brisk air chilling him as he stepped outside the apartment building where their car was waiting.

He jumps nearly a foot in the air when he hears his name.

"Coriolanus Snow, fancy finding you here." He abruptly turns to look at the boy leaning up against the cement pillar only a few feet away.

The smug smile on your brother's face at his own joke is only mildly off-putting.

"Lennox. What are you doing here?" Coryo asks, clearing his throat and quickly readjusting the front of his coat. He knew your family- he knew he shouldn't be shocked that if you called, your brother would come running. Now he's just realizing that this didn't mean anything good for him.

Lennox shrugs as he steps away from the wall, a toothpick poking out from the corner of his mouth as he chews on it. "Sejanus called on Halloween. Said Y/N was having a tough time, and what kind of brother would I be if I didn't come to help?"

"That's very kind of you." Coryo states, eyeing him carefully. "So, you've been with her then?"

"Mhm." Lennox nods, smiling proudly as he not so subtly sizes up the boy in front of him. "Should we talk in the car? Wouldn't want you to be seen with me." He winks, flicking away the toothpick before brushing past your boyfriend to let himself into the backseat.

The blonde boy swallows, rolling his eyes before climbing in after him. "You going to school?" Lennox asks, already playing with the switches that roll up the windows and adjust the seats.

"I was going to pick up Y/N. She has class at the same time."

"Oh, she's already there. She got a ride with Sej this morning." Lennox states. "So don't worry, we wouldn't want her to be an inconvenience for you."

Coryo sighs, rubbing his head. "Listen, I don't know what they toldyou, but-"

"Oh, no. You're gonna listen to me now." Lennox cuts him off, suddenly serious as the car begins to move. "I don't know what you want from her. Not anymore. I had a pretty good idea when you showed up at our home unannounced, but clearly, that wasn't enough for you. So, correct me if I'm wrong, but you kidnapped her, right-"

"I didn't-"

"Yes, you did. As I was saying, you kidnapped her, but why?" Lennox shakes his head, eyes wide with genuine confusion. "If you don't want her, if you treat her like she's a burden to you, or that you're embarrassed of her, why would you bother? Was it just to break her again, because The Hunger Games didn't do a damn good enough job?" He hisses, fists clenched together like it was all he could do to not take a swing at him right now. "'My tribute gets touchy when she drinks'... Are you kidding me? You did this to her! All of it! I don't think it's too much of her to ask for you to care when you promised that you would!"

Coryo flinches a bit as his own words are thrown back at him, looking down at his lap in nothing more than shame as it fills him slowly from head to toe.

"It's not like that, Lennox. Not at all." Coryo settles on, shaking his head. "She is the furthest thing from a burden to me. I know it's hard for you to believe, but I want her to be happy. I want to help her."

Lennox looks down at his lap, the act of 'protective brother' crumbling to pieces over the back seat as tears brim at his eyes. "Then why would you take her away again?"

Coryo is shocked by this, eyes going wide as he stares at him. No longer was Lennox only your little brother who puffed his chest and rolled up his sleeves at every given opportunity to take a stab at your boyfriend, he was just a kid. A kid like you, who was completely torn apart by the games even though he had never set foot in the Capitol until the day before.

To Coryo, Lennox looked like he would have made a strong competitor in the same games; had his name been chosen. He was cocky, normally, and that was something that could be made into the spectacle that Dr. Gaul wanted. He would have no doubt done well. Coryo recalls you talking endlessly about your brother before the Games, and he remembered meeting him in Twelve and thinking that he was nothing like what he expected from the way you spoke about him. Gentle. Kind. Selfless.

From his limited interactions with the boy, Coryo only saw anger, distrust, selfishness. But knowing that he had to stand by back in District Twelve and wait for the news of his sister's death, maybe even watch it live, Coryo can now see that not only did it anger and scare him, but it traumatized him almost as much as it did you. The boy sitting next to him was nothing more than a kid who had lost his best friend. Who lost his sister.

"I..." Coryo stammers, waves of realization hitting him like he's run into a brick wall. "I had no choice." He says quietly to spare the driver's ears, and Lennox snaps his head back up to look at him.

Long gone was the sadness that told the story of who he had been while you were here fighting for your life a few months ago. Now, his eyes were ice cold, red from the tears that he didn't let fall.

"You're gonna have to explain before I tear every piece of that strangely white hair from your big head, Coryo."

Subconsciously, Coryo reaches up to make sure his hair is still styled the way he had just done it before he left as he swallows. "You know what happened to that peacekeeper?" He leans closer to say it so they won't be heard.

Lennox is scanning his face for any sign he could be lying. "And Billy Taupe?" He prompts him, the sad look flickering back in his eyes for only a moment. You had told Coryo about the relationship your family had with the Covey children, he hadn't even considered how your brother would handle the death of one of his closest friends without his big sister there to help. He lost you both in one night- that couldn't have been an easy pill to swallow, especially when he had only just got you back.

Coryo nodded slightly, looking up quickly to make sure one more time that the driver wasn't watching in the mirror.

"She was there." He explains it in as few words as possible. "And I knew if anyone found that out, if anyone saw her, the finger would be pointed her way."

"Did you kill them?" Lennox asks quietly.

Coryo shakes his head. "No, but I did hold one of the guns. She's the only reason I didn't. She wouldn't let me."

"Who did?"

"Spruce, I think his name is, but I shouldn't be telling you any of this."

Lennox gives him a solemn nod. "It's fine. I'm the one who hid the guns. Spruce brought them to the house and I ran everything out to the lake that night. Was sleepin' like a rock when Y/N/N came to pack all her stuff, I'd only been home for an hour or so." He explains, wiping a hand over his face as he remembers making that familiar hike in the dark. "They got Spruce, he was done the next day but I promise they'll never find any evidence connecting to you guys."

Coryo nods, internally sighing in relief.

"It's all secrets, now." Lennox adds, and Coryo knows what he means by that.

"What kind of secrets will she find at the bottom of the lake?" His own question is echoed back to him, but now he knows the answer.

"But if I knew it coulda connected you, maybe I would have left them somewhere more obvious."

Coryo doesn't expect the small smile that forms on your brother's lips. It was a threat, but first and foremost it was a joke.

"I'll be honest, I panicked." Coryo admits. "I couldn't just leave her there not knowing what would happen to her. I had to keep her safe, and bringing her back with us was the only way I knew how."

"I coulda protected her." Lennox insists, but the shake in his voice indicates that he knows that isn't necessarily true.

"I know." Coryo agrees anyway. "And I know it sounds like I'm lying to you but I mean it when I say I just want to help her. To give her a better future."

"Maybe," Lennox's jaw tenses and he slightly shakes his head. "But that doesn't mean you can treat her like she's nothin' to you. Especially if you actually care about her, which I am still skeptical of- for the record."

"I do." He assures your brother. "It's just... I don't expect you to understand but it is extremely complicated. There's a lot of pressure on me to keep the impression that our relationship is... professional."

"The hell you mean, 'professional?' She loves you. She loves you more than she should and you don't deserve that from her. Even if you saved her life, she doesn't owe you anything."

"I know." Coryo says again. "You're right. I won't deny that, but I need you to trust me when I say that everything I have to do, I'm doing it for her- so the Games didn't just chew her up and spit her out for nothing. She saved my life- and all I have to repay her with is my name. So I'm trying my hardest to do that."

Your brother is quiet for a moment. "Do you love her?"

"Yes," Coryo answers without a moment's hesitation. "More than I ever thought it was even possible to love another person, and I've known that since long before she ever set foot in that arena."

When Lennox doesn't reply, staring at him and trying to decide whether or not he believes it, he continues.

"I risked everything for her to win. I gave her that scarf, the rat poison, I even put something of hers into the snake tank so they wouldn't hurt her even if they caught her." He explains. "I was told before the reaping that if we cheated to help our tributes, we would have no shot at any kind of viable future but when it came down to it I didn't even consider another option because I could not live in a world without your sister."

Your brother's eyes soften as they find his again, a subtle nod indicating his understanding.

"She's... she's like a book whose pages I never tire of turning. I love her more than I could ever explain to you, Lennox. Please, even if you never trust me again, trust me right now." Coryo pleads. "I would never want to hurt her, and the fact that I have is killing me every moment she is not here."

Lennox straightens up, looking out the window as the university campus comes into their view. "I think she's the one who really needs to know that. Don't you?"

Coryo looks out the window, nodding in silent agreement and chewing on the inside of his cheek as the car comes to a stop for him to get out.

"By the way," Lennox says, that smug smile returning to his lips. "You spend too much time with my sister. 'She's like a book whose pages I never tire of turning'." He mocks his voice, using finger quotations to make his point and polishing it off with a scoff. "Never say anything like that again, Coryo. That's corny, even for Y/N."

Coryo laughs slightly. "Noted." He agrees, pushing the door open.

Armed with the information that you did still love him and maybe your brother wouldn't be hunting him down just yet for hurting you, he heads into the building looking forward to finding you for lunch.

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hoseokhasmyheartxx · 1 year

Text

Nothing's Changed | MYG

*Pairing: Yoongi x f!Reader *Word Count: 7.4k I'M SORRY 😳 *Genre: friends to lovers, "only one bed" trope, some angst, fluff, non-idol au, fake dating (ish) au *Warnings: NSFW SMUT, MINORS DNI. alcohol consumption, brief mention of parent death, piv sex, unprotected sex (be smart, you perverts), oral (f receiving), nipple play, a bit of overstimulation if you squint, Yoongi has dirty thoughts frequently, reader has to be convinced kinda, i dunno what else to say except good luck reading this nonsense *Summary: You and Yoongi have been best friends since college. The rest of your friend group wants to go on a couples' trip, leaving you and Yoongi to share a room. But to your surprise, your room only has one bed... will the two of you be able to get through the week without letting the other know how you feel? *A/N: welp, i'm sorry in advance for how long this "drabble" turned out to be. after Yoongi's live yesterday i had way too much motivation and it was just total word vomit inspiration. happy birthday to our gorgeous cat boy! 🐱

Main Masterlist

Eight years ago, you were spending most nights in the study area of your university’s library. The building was empty aside from the few other students scattered around the area, seemingly studying for finals just as you were. You had been sitting at a table at the edge of the room for the last three hours, papers strewn everywhere and your calculus book laid open on the table, head in your hands, feeling entirely defeated. Working the same problem for the last thirty minutes still hadn’t changed your answer, and it was still wrong. You sighed, about to give up for the night, when you heard the sound of a chair scrape against the carpet to your left. Looking up, you saw a familiar face, one you hadn’t spoken to before, but familiar all the same.

Min Yoongi. He was taking the same calculus class as you, and from what you assumed based on the posted class averages over the last few months, he was the one who had been basically floating the entire class thus far. You (and the rest of your class) had barely managed to earn passing grades on every exam you’d taken so far, except for Yoongi. He, on the other hand, had aced everything. You didn’t think there had been one exam that he’d scored less than a 95 on, and it frustrated you. How could calculus come so easy to him, when the rest of you were barely treading water?

“You look desperate. Need some help?” Yoongi asked as he sat in the chair next to you. He looked over at you expectantly, resting his elbows on the table, the thumb and index finger of one hand holding up his chin.

“Actually, yes. I am so lost. There’s no way I’m gonna pass this class,” you responded, sighing. He turned your textbook to face him, scanning the page to see what you were working on. He laughed softly to himself, pushing his hair behind his ear before he looked back up at you.

“Okay, no problem. I’m done studying for this class already. We still have two days until our final, right? I got you,” he said confidently, his gummy smile peeking at you. He reached for your notebook, eyes skimming the pages in front of him. A minute later, he tapped the page. “I see the problem.”

Yoongi spent the next two hours tirelessly explaining everywhere (yes, multiple spots) you had gone wrong. Things were slowly starting to click, the gears in your head finally spinning in the right direction. Occasionally, they still got stuck, but he was doing a really good job of helping you to unstick them.

“We should call it a night. If you study too hard, you won’t remember anything we just did. Meet me tomorrow night at six at the dining hall if you want more help,” Yoongi said as he stood, packing his things back into his backpack.

“The dining hall? That’s a really loud place to study,” you responded, a look of utter confusion painting your face.

“We’re not gonna study at the dining hall, dummy. We are, however, gonna have dinner before we come back to the library. You’re buying,” he said with a laugh as he turned and walked away.

The next night, after a quick dinner that was less awkward than you’d expected, you and Yoongi spent another three hours at the library, heads buried deep in your calculus textbook once again. At the end of your study session, you finally felt confident enough to take your final exam the following morning. And it was all thanks to Min Yoongi.

Your friendship blossomed after those late night study sessions. Although you didn’t have classes together anymore when your calculus class ended, you still managed to spend at least a few nights every week together. Sometimes you sat in his living room watching trashy reality tv (which he hated), other times you would cook together (which, let’s be real, more often than not led to Yoongi getting frustrated with your lack of cooking ability and finishing it himself while you watched). He had even dragged you to a few basketball games, much to your dismay since you didn’t particularly like sports. But you loved spending time with him, and seeing him get excited when his team was winning was worth the potential boredom for you.

The two of you basically grew up together. You had met when you were only twenty-two, about to graduate college, and now you were both pushing thirty. You both had fairly successful careers in your chosen fields (music production for him, finance for you), and you had been through more than your fair share of struggles together. You were the one who was there for him when his long term relationship fell apart, and he was the one who talked you off the ledge when you lost your mother almost immediately after. Being roommates with Yoongi made these hardships easier. Neither of you were alone when you were at your worst, you always had someone to turn to when you needed a distraction or a shoulder to cry on. After eight years of friendship, and four years of living together, you were certain that the two of you were platonic soulmates.

The friend group you’d collected over the years had slowly become your family. Yoongi brought two of his childhood friends, Hobi and Jimin, along with his coworkers Namjoon and Taehyung, into your circle, and you’d accepted them all like they were your long-lost brothers. Three of them eventually married, growing your friend group even more because you had built-in female friends in their wives. Your best friend since birth, Seo-Jun, loved Yoongi just the same as you did. But, she loved Taehyung even more. You weren’t even the slightest bit surprised when they got together. This left you and Yoongi as the only ones left in your group who hadn’t married yet. But, at only thirty, neither of you cared too much about that. You were still enjoying your youth. Things were just easier when you weren’t tied down, having to worry about another person when making all your decisions. You could just be.

Both your and Yoongi’s lack of a romantic partner is what made you being roommates so simple. Unfortunately, this had been the downfall of his last relationship. The woman he was so sure about, but whom he wasn’t quite ready to marry, refused to accept that you were his best friend. She slowly worked her way into every part of his life, only to give him an ultimatum of moving out of your shared apartment and into hers and ending your friendship, or losing her altogether. Yoongi came to you for advice, but you couldn’t tell him what to do. You just wanted him to be happy, even if that meant losing him. You told him just that, even though it pained you to do so. He left that conversation and came back that evening, brokenhearted over the loss of who he thought was meant for him. You, on the other hand, had never had a long term relationship. You had dated people, certainly, but none had ever panned out for one reason or another. Most of the time it ended because of (so-called) unrealistic expectations on your end, or an obvious fear of being with a powerful woman on their end. Men didn’t appreciate the hard work you put into your career in finance, and were threatened by your independence and hard-charging nature. Ultimately, the two of you had made peace with the fact that maybe you were just meant to do life on your own, supporting and loving each other the way only best friends could. Your lack of romantic partners is also why the thing your friend group proposed one afternoon was comically shocking.

“A… couples’ trip,” Yoongi repeated, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He looked over at you, noticing the way your entire body was shaking as you tried to control your laughter.

“Listen. We know the two of you don’t have partners. But the rest of us really want to go on this trip together, and the resort will give us a group rate if we book five rooms!” Taehyung explained.

“It’s a really good discount. You guys already share an apartment. Why can’t you share a room for a week?” Seo-Jun asked, blinking up at you sweetly, trying her hardest to get her way. That tactic worked on Taehyung, but you weren’t sure why she expected it to work on you.

“It’s at a couples’ resort. It specifically says ‘couples only.’ We’d be found out so fast. No way could Yoon and I pass as a couple,” you told her, still laughing as you scrolled through the website Seo-Jun had sent to you.

“Please, just think about it! It’ll be fun. You guys don’t have to spend the entire week together. All you have to do is just share the room,” Namjoon’s wife, Ji-Ho, chimed in.

It was obvious that all of your friends really wanted you to agree to this bizarre plan. You could use a vacation, but the thought of having to pretend to be in a relationship with Min Yoongi? That would never work. What happened next shocked you even more than the original proposal.

“I’m down for it. As long as the room has two beds, because there’s no way I’m sharing a bed with her,” Yoongi finally said. Looking over at you, he added, “I’ve seen you starfished on your own bed too many times. No thank you.”

You feigned offense, placing your hand over your chest with a fake gasp on your face. He laughed, eyes scrunching closed in signature Yoongi fashion, shoving your shoulder playfully. You sighed, knowing you had to say yes now.

“Okay, fine. We’re in,” you answered. Your answer was immediately met with squeals of excitement from the girls, a hug from Seo-Jun, and excited high fives amongst the guys. Amidst the chaos, you glanced over at Yoongi, seeing a small smile on his face that told you he was grateful for you having said yes to this insane plan.

Later that night, you were lying in bed after finishing your bedtime routine, ready to sleep, when intrusive thoughts began racing through your head. What would this “fake relationship” scenario look like? Would it be as simple as just holding Yoongi’s hand whenever you were in common areas of the resort so that staff wouldn’t catch on to your lie? What if there were couples’ activities that your friends were participating in; would you have to do those as well? The resort looked especially romantic, from what you’d seen on the website, and it made you wonder: could you do romance with Min Yoongi? What if you wanted to do romance with Min Yoongi?

You shook those thoughts off immediately, unwilling to consider anything other than what you already knew: Yoongi was nothing more than your best friend, and he would stay that way forever. You fell asleep shortly after, unbothered by your strange train of thought, reducing it to being caused by your incessant need to plan everything down to the minute, and the fact that you weren’t in control of this vacation.

At the other end of the hall, the same train of thought barged into Yoongi’s head, as if you had transferred your thoughts directly to him. However, his replies to himself were slightly different. He knew exactly how to survive this “couples’ week” with you. But one thing worried him more than anything else. What if he played up this fake romance too much and exposed himself? Would your friendship ever recover if his feelings for you came out? The anxiety kept him up most of the night, tossing and turning, wondering if this vacation was a good idea after all.

—

Two months later, your group of ten was scattered across a plane, sitting in pairs, heading to Mexico for your much anticipated vacation. The flight was short, only three hours, and you had had a particularly exhausting week at the office, so you planned to catch up on some sleep so you could arrive refreshed and ready to make the most of your week away. You were seated with Yoongi, of course, and before you knew it, you were nodding off, eyes closing slowly as you fell asleep, head resting against the window of the airplane.

Yoongi’s breath caught in his chest as your head fell onto his shoulder. You were clearly in a deep sleep; he didn’t mind you resting there. Plus, in eight years of friendship, it’s not like the two of you hadn’t fallen asleep together a few times before. But every time it happened, his body reacted the same way. Hitched breathing, tensed muscles, fluttering heart rate. Somehow, you had never noticed, and he was thankful for that. He couldn’t stomach the thought of scaring you away if you ever found out.

The flight went smoothly, and just as soon as you had fallen asleep, you were being shaken awake by your best friend. “Hey. We’re here, get up!” he exclaimed.

You blinked a few times, trying to wake yourself up. The plane was already half empty, passengers trickling down the aisle with their belongings. You moved to grab your bag from under your seat, but Yoongi had the same idea. The side of your head smacked against his forehead, eliciting a loud groan from him.

“Seriously? We just got here and you’re already being mean to me. We’ll definitely pass for a couple,” he remarked, voice dripping with sarcasm. You rolled your eyes at him, knowing full well that he was just teasing you. You grabbed your bag with a huff of remorse, smiling at him after that.

Bags finally obtained, you left your seats and exited the airplane, joining your group at baggage claim. Three of the couples already had their suitcases, but the luggage was still coming out, so it wouldn’t be long until the rest of you were able to retrieve your own bags. Once your bags arrived, your group headed toward the arrivals hall, searching for the driver who would be waiting for you.

The resort you were staying at prided itself on “all-inclusive service from arrival to departure,” which meant that you were picked up from the airport upon arrival, driven to the resort, where you would be bathed in luxury for the entirety of your stay, and then driven back to the airport on the day of your departure. This ensured that none of you would have to lift a finger the whole week. Everything was included in your booking, from food and drinks (even most alcohol), to daily scheduled activities and even off-resort trips. At check-in, each “couple” (said lightly, since you and Yoongi weren’t really a couple) received their room keys and a printout of the week’s events. The rest of your group went first, leaving you and Yoongi to check in last.

“And finally, Mr. and Mrs. Min. Here are your keys and this week’s schedule. We hope you enjoy your stay with us, and please don’t hesitate to come to us for anything you may need this week,” the receptionist said warmly.

Yoongi looked over at you standing next to him, gauging how well you were playing your part. You smiled at him, a small glint of affection in your eyes. He smiled back at you, glad that the receptionist’s belief that you were married didn’t seem to bother you. There was nothing else he needed in this world if it meant you’d smile at him that way every day.

Once the check-in process was finished, you and your friends gathered together, comparing room locations. The resort had informed you when you first booked your trip that even though you’d booked your rooms with a group rate, that didn’t guarantee you’d all be staying near each other. This turned out to be true; all of your rooms were spread out across the resort, except for the rooms assigned to Namjoon and Taehyung and their wives. The four of them had rooms directly across from each other.

“Alright everyone. Let’s go get settled in and check everything out. We can meet back up for dinner, say around seven?” Jimin asked. Everyone agreed and the group parted ways, leaving you and Yoongi alone to find your room on the small map given to you by the front desk.

Your room wasn’t too far from the lobby. On the way there, you passed a large pool with a swim-up bar, a basketball court (which excited Yoongi, as expected), and a gym that looked to be pretty well equipped with various exercise machines and plenty of floor space for individual workouts. Following the path out of the central area and around the backside of the resort, you were greeted by a sweeping expanse of ocean. You stopped in your tracks, eyes lit up, not believing what you were seeing. After all, you didn’t live close to the beach, and had only seen the ocean a few times before in your life. The ones you’d been to were nothing compared to the view in front of you. The water was crystal clear, a vibrant shade of turquoise as far as you could see.

“C’mon, you goon. It’s just the ocean,” Yoongi said from up ahead, pulling you out of your daze. You rolled your eyes at him once again, following him along the path to get to your room. He was several steps ahead of you, arriving at the door of your room quickly, while you were still meandering along the path to catch up to him, finding it hard to concentrate on anything except the beautiful ocean to your left. You watched him as he used his key to unlock the door, opening it and walking through the entryway. You caught up to him soon after, entering the room yourself, but you were stopped by the sudden force of walking directly into Yoongi’s back, throwing you back a bit.

“What’s your problem?” you asked, smacking his shoulder blade lightly.

He turned to face you, replying with, “Not my problem. Our problem.” With that he pointed to the inside of your room. You looked over his shoulder to see exactly what he was referring to.

One king-sized bed was staring you straight in the face from the center of the room.

“Oh,” you let out, a look of surprise spreading across your face.

“It’s okay. I’ll take care of it,” Yoongi reassured you as he stepped around you and walked back out the door. You were left standing alone in the room after that, not wanting to move to avoid messing up the room for the housekeeping staff who would inevitably come to check out the room after the two of you were switched to the correct room type.

Ten minutes passed before you heard the click of the door unlocking behind you. Yoongi walked in with a defeated look in his eyes. He sighed, smiling at you gently.

“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

“Yoon, just stop. Did you get it fixed?” you replied, an exasperated puff of air leaving your lips.

“Well, no. I didn’t. Apparently this is one of their busiest weeks and they just don’t have another room to switch us to. They said the rooms with two beds were reserved only for handicapped guests needing accessible accommodations,” Yoongi explained.

“So, what you’re saying is that we have to spend the next week somehow sharing a bed. What could possibly be the ‘good news’ in this situation?” you asked him, your tone of voice raising to a shrill whine.

“The good news is that they gave us a voucher for fifty percent off dinner at their premium restaurant. But yes, we are gonna have to share the bed,” Yoongi finished.

You sighed, a look of absolute terror on your face. In all the years the two of you had been friends, you had never shared a bed. Sure, you’d fallen asleep together during a movie on your couch many times, or like earlier on the plane, but actually sharing a bed? No. The thought had never crossed your mind. That was a level of intimacy that you never wanted, afraid of how it could turn out. You knew you moved around a lot in your sleep. What if you tried to cuddle him in your sleep? Or worse, what if you tried to cuddle him and he rejected you? You shook your head, trying to clear your mind.

“Uh… you alright? It’s honestly not a big deal to me. It’s just sleeping,” Yoongi said with a shrug of his shoulders, hand running through his hair.

“Um, yeah, sorry. Yeah, I’m good. No big deal,” you stuttered, trying not to sound too shaken by this new development.

“Alright then. That’s settled,” Yoongi replied enthusiastically, “what do you wanna do until we meet the others for dinner?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m going down to the beach. We have, what, two hours?”

Before he could even answer you, you were rifling through your suitcase, pulling out one of the swimsuits you’d brought for the trip. You squeezed past Yoongi to get to the bathroom to change, taking only a minute to rid yourself of your travel clothes and swap them with the tiny blue bikini you’d bought the week before. You didn’t usually have the confidence to wear swimsuits, instead choosing to swim in shorts and a swim shirt, but hell, you were on vacation and you were going to take advantage of that. You didn’t even bother to put a coverup over your swimsuit before opening the bathroom door and returning to your suitcase to grab your sunscreen and towel.

Yoongi stopped what he was doing, not fully processing the sight in front of him. His mouth agape, he couldn’t help but to let his eyes linger on your barely clothed form across the room. He wasn’t huge on swimming, and the few times he had gone to the pool with you, you hadn’t worn anything like that before. Looking at you, dressed like that, stirred up feelings that had long since been buried in the back of his mind. He wished you had shown him this part of yourself years ago. If you had, maybe he would’ve had the courage to tell you his feelings for you.

“Hey. Earth to Yoon,” your voice rang out, fingers snapping inches from his face. He shook his head, coming back to reality.

“Sorry. What?” he asked, rubbing the side of his face, trying to shake off the completely impure thoughts racing through his brain.

“I asked you if you can get my back,” you repeated, shaking the bottle of sunscreen out at him. He took it from you, hesitantly opening the cap and squeezing some out onto his palm. You turned around and lifted your ponytail up to give him a clean canvas to paint with the protective layer. You jumped a little as his cold hands touched your spine, feeling his fingers massage the lotion into your back.

Yoongi bit his lip as he concentrated on making sure to cover your entire back and the rest of your shoulders that you couldn’t reach. This small, friendly action definitely wasn’t helping to ward off the impure thoughts from just a minute ago. In fact, it was only fueling them. He imagined his hands roaming elsewhere on your body, getting to touch you in places that had always been off limits to him, imagining your body writhing underneath him. These thoughts had been tormenting him for months now, which both surprised him entirely and also completely didn’t. He took a deep breath as he slipped his hand underneath the string of your bikini top to make sure he hadn’t missed any spots, then clapped both his hands on your shoulders and gently shoved you toward the door.

“All done. Now go, have fun, try not to drown,” Yoongi said with a laugh as he watched you walk out the door.

Left alone with only his own thoughts, Yoongi’s mind began to wander. What if he did tell you how he felt? The two of you had been friends for so long that he felt like it could go one of two ways. One, you’d laugh it off and tell him he was being ridiculous, and then you’d forget about it, and your friendship would remain intact. Or two, you wouldn’t be able to understand and it would cause irreparable damage to the friendship you’d been building over the last eight years. He didn’t know which option was worse, telling you and facing rejection, possibly losing the best friend he’d ever had; or not telling you, and living with the weight of his unconfessed feelings forever. This week, he’d be living in even closer quarters with you than normal, and he wasn’t sure how to get through it. But he was going to try his hardest to act like nothing was going on inside his head.

–

Seven o’clock rolled around and the two of you met up with the rest of your friends for dinner at the agreed upon restaurant. Namjoon had called ahead to make sure they could seat all ten of you together, so there was a large table toward the back of the restaurant waiting for your group when you arrived. Everyone sat down, ready to catch up and talk about how the rooms were and how they’d spent their first few hours at the resort.

“So, we have some fun news,” Yoongi said with a laugh. That got everyone’s attention, most of the group looking up from their menus to give him their full attention.

“Our room only has one bed. Yoon tried to get us switched to a different room, but there was nothing available. So, we’re stuck sharing for the week,” you explained.

An awkward silence took over the group. A few seconds passed, and suddenly, Jimin and Hobi were cracking up laughing. The rest of the table stared at them, unsure what was so funny. Yoongi, of course, knew exactly why they were laughing, but he trusted them to come up with an excuse that wouldn’t blow his cover.

“Phew. Sorry, I’m just imagining Yoongi curled up in a tiny ball while ____ spreads out across the bed the whole week,” Hobi explained, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye that had been pushed out by his laughter. Jimin nodded in agreement, but Yoongi didn’t miss the knowing look that he shot him before the subject naturally changed to everyone’s afternoon activities. You shared about your time on the beach, telling everyone how nice the water was and that you loved being able to go whenever you felt like it. Namjoon had spent his time reading, while Yoongi had played a bit of basketball. The rest of the group had just relaxed in their rooms until it was time to get ready for dinner.

Dinner passed quickly, drinks flowing freely with everyone in full vacation mode. The ten of you always had a great time when you were together, although more often than not most of you drank more than you should, at the insistence of Jimin. Tonight was no different. Yoongi was three glasses of whiskey deep into a bottle the other guys had purchased. You and the girls were drinking fruity cocktails, yours containing more tequila than fruit. Hobi had turned completely red-faced after drinking his second drink, and the rest were drinking a combination of the whiskey and some other drinks that Jimin ordered for them. You were glad you were on vacation, because you knew you would wake up at least some degree of hungover the next morning. You spent so much time at the restaurant that your server had to come tell you that you needed to leave because it was closing time. Everyone gathered their things, talking amongst themselves about if they should move to the resort’s nightclub for a few more drinks.

“I think I’m actually gonna go back to the room for the night. I do not want to spend this entire trip vomiting from trying to keep up with Jimin,” you said as you picked up your purse, waving goodbye to the group as you walked away.

The rest of your friends walked in the opposite direction, heading to the nightclub. Yoongi and Jimin were the stragglers of the group, walking a few feet behind everyone else. Jimin nudged Yoongi with an elbow to the ribs, cocking his head to the side before he said what he’d been meaning to say all night.

“Bro, are you ever gonna tell her how you feel?”

Yoongi sputtered, unsure how to reply. He knew that Jimin knew, obviously. He had admitted it himself years ago when Jimin had questioned why he would move in with you if you didn’t share his feelings. Back then, he had tried to come up with excuses and act like he didn’t know what Jimin was talking about, but Jimin had coaxed it out of him. He was sworn to secrecy and had kept his word so far, rarely even mentioning it except for in situations like this (situations being drunk nights together when you left early and Yoongi was stuck with him, watching you leave).

“Minie, I told you. I can’t,” Yoongi replied, sighing.

“Why not?”

“I’ll ruin everything. I can’t lose her,” Yoongi answered. He was drunk, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that telling you he was in love with you would fuck up your friendship, and that was something he could never take back once it was out in the open.

“Listen. You might think it’ll ruin everything. But I don’t think so. I’ve seen how you two are together. You’re best friends. I think you need to tell her, before you don’t have the chance anymore. I’ve been keeping this to myself for years because you asked me not to bring it up. But I just can’t keep watching you suffer when there’s a really simple solution. Just tell her,” Jimin let out in one quick response.

Yoongi stared at him, wide-eyed. He knew Jimin was right, but he never thought he’d have the courage to go through with it. Luckily for him, Jimin had just the thing to help calm his nerves. He handed Yoongi a small flask, and he took a gulp of the bitter liquid, handing it back. It was now or never.

“Good luck, man,” Jimin said, clapping him on the back and pushing him back in the direction of your shared room.

Yoongi took several deep breaths as he walked, unsure who was controlling his movements, because it sure as hell wasn’t him. He had no idea how he would even begin to get this out, but the combination of Jimin’s confidence in him, and the shot of liquid courage he’d just downed, made him feel like he could.

Before he knew it, he was using his key to enter your room. You turned around at the sound of the door shutting behind him, surprised to see him.

“What happened to everyone going to the nightclub?” you questioned, confused look on your face.

“Ah, yeah. They did. I just decided to come back early. Started feeling the liquor a little more and I knew I’d regret it if I kept drinking,” Yoongi explained, hand rubbing the back of his neck, a small smile on his lips.

“Makes sense. That’s exactly why I didn’t go out either,” you said, laughing at the thought of your entire group stumbling back to their rooms in the dead of the night.

You continued getting ready for bed, going into the bathroom to brush your teeth. Yoongi followed you, and you scooted over for him to share the sink with you as he washed his face and brushed his teeth as well.

You left him in the bathroom, claiming the right side of the bed before he could give an opinion on which side he wanted. You curled up under the soft comforter, turning over to switch off your bedside light, deciding that sleeping facing the wall would probably be in your best interest this week.

“Figures,” Yoongi scoffed as he shuffled his socked feet across the room to climb into bed next to you. You knew that Yoongi preferred the right side of the bed, but so did you, so it was only fair for whoever got there first to call dibs on it. You felt the bed dip down behind you as Yoongi laid down, and his light turned off seconds after. The room was quiet, only the sounds of the ceiling fan and Yoongi’s deep breathing saving you from being too restless to sleep.

Minutes passed, and you were starting to drift off when you heard Yoongi turn over onto his side. Suddenly, you felt his warm hand on your arm.

“Hey, are you still awake?”

“Yeah,” you responded quietly.

A deep, shaky breath left Yoongi’s lips, and then, “Can I talk to you about something?”

Your breath caught in your throat. In all the years you had been friends, he had never asked to talk to you about something. Any problem he had with you was always blurted out at random, which was something you admired about him. He was never afraid to speak his mind when it came to you or his other friends, so his hesitancy worried you. You rolled over to face him, feeling like whatever it was should be said face to face instead of said to your back.

“What’s up?” you asked him. The moonlight shone through the gaps of the curtains on the window across the room, illuminating his face in the otherwise dark room. You looked at him, seeing a discomfort that you rarely noticed in him. You had only seen that look in his eyes a few other times, which confused you even more. Yoongi took a few more deep breaths before beginning.

“This isn’t something I ever planned to tell you. Shit, it isn’t something I ever planned to feel at all. But I do, and I just can’t go on acting like there’s nothing going on with me. Jimin was the one who gave me the push I needed to finally tell you. But the truth is, I am so fucking in love with you. I have been since the summer after graduation. We got so close and you became my best friend, and I didn’t want to mess any of that up, so I kept it to myself for so long. But I just can’t anymore,” Yoongi breathed out, his eyes locked on yours, his hand gripping your bicep lightly.

Yoongi was met with nothing but silence. The look on your face went from confused, to shocked, to utterly terrified. You didn’t break away from his gaze, which was at least something, but you didn’t say anything either. Finally, after what felt like hours, you let out a shaky breath and opened your mouth to speak.

“Yoon,” you started, voice cracking. You knew you were on the verge of tears, but you tried your best to hold them back so you could get out what you needed to say. “I… I don’t know what to say. You’re my best friend, and I’d be lying if I said I’ve never thought about you that way, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not, ____? We know everything about each other. We’ve been through so much together. What could it hurt?” Yoongi pleaded, his fingers tracing along your arm lightly as he spoke.

“I just don’t want to lose you, Yoon. You’re my best friend. If it didn’t work out… I couldn’t take losing you for good,” you explained. You broke his gaze, unable to deal with looking him directly in the eye anymore. You knew you were hurting him, which was bad enough, but to see the hurt right in front of your face like that? It wasn’t something you could bear.

“____. It would be so easy. You and me, we’re like soulmates, yeah? We’ve always said that, haven’t we? I promise, we could make it work.” With that, you felt his hand run up your arm and shoulder to your face, cupping your cheek in his hand lightly, running his thumb over your skin. You stilled, eyes on him again. Your heart was racing, about to beat out of your chest. You shivered, and you hesitantly brought your hand up to rest on his waist.

“Promise me one thing, Yoon. Promise me our friendship will be okay,” you breathed out. Yoongi nodded, never breaking eye contact with you as he leaned in and softly touched his lips to yours. Your breath caught in your throat as he kissed you, feeling a heat you’d never felt before. His hand moved down to your neck, nudging your head to the side with his nose as he deepened the kiss. His tongue met yours, lazily, but hungrily. It was as though he wanted to devour you through his kiss alone.

His hand left your neck, moving to your hip and pulling you into him. Your arm wrapped around his back, sliding your hand up to tangle in his hair. He twisted his body to push you onto your back, breaking the kiss to move down to your neck. His lips ghosted over the column of your throat, gentle, heated kisses landing on your neck and collarbone. He reached down to grab the bottom of your shirt, lifting it up and over your head. He was met with the sight of your beautiful bare torso underneath him, chest heaving as you breathed heavily, eyes locking on his. You did the same to him, pulling his shirt off and tossing it to the side. He continued his sporadic kissing, moving down to your chest until his lips settled on the bud of your left breast. Looking up at you, he hesitantly took the nipple into his mouth, tongue licking circles around it. A whine escaped your lips, and Yoongi knew then that he could listen to your sounds all night if you let him.

Your hips bucked up into him, and his breathing hitched, feeling your body against his. He reached down and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your pajama bottoms, sliding both layers you had on down your legs until he could pull them off and savor the image of you, completely naked, reacting to his every touch.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he breathed out, hands running up your legs until they rested on your thighs. Slowly, he parted your legs, positioning himself between them. He left a few gentle kisses on your lower abdomen, tongue darting out to lick a path from your belly button down to your mound. Taking one more look up at you, and seeing your pupils blown with lust, was all the encouragement he needed as he dragged his wet tongue through your folds, teasing at your entrance before he brought it back up to circle your clit.

“Yoon..” you gasped out, one hand going to your breast, squeezing it and playing with the nipple. It was partially for you because you enjoyed the stimulation, but also for him as well, giving him a show to pay attention to as he devoured you like you were his last meal.

You let out another loud moan as he pushed two of his fingers into your pussy, his tongue fervently lapping up your slick as he hooked his fingers just right for you to see stars. You bucked your hips against his fingers, wanting every inch of him inside of you.

“That’s it. You’re so pretty fucking yourself on my fingers,” Yoongi told you, using the other hand to push down gently on your lower stomach. The extra sensation, combined with his tongue tracing patterns through your folds, nearly sent you over the edge right then. Your moans grew more desperate, breathing becoming more erratic as he groaned into your pussy, enjoying giving you pleasure as much as you enjoyed getting it. Just then, he took your clit in between his lips, sucking gently, his fingers not stopping their consistent thrusting into you. He watched you as he took you over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you like no other. Your moans and whines spilled out, saying his name over and over as he used his tongue to help you ride it out. He only stopped when you forcefully pushed his head away from you, unable to take the overstimulation. Your entire body was weak, shaking uncontrollably underneath him. You pulled him by the arm up and over you, kissing him messily, not caring about tasting yourself on his lips.

Still kissing you, refusing to break the connection between the two of you, he reached down and clumsily pushed his sweatpants and boxers down, kicking them off his ankles onto the floor. You watched as his cock sprung free, salivating at the sight of it. Bringing himself up into the space between your thighs again, you couldn’t help yourself as you reached down and wrapped your hand around him, pumping him a few times, watching as his head fell to your shoulder, his breathing coming out in short gasps. With that, you guided him slowly to your entrance, wanting nothing more than to have him inside you at that moment.

“Yoon, please, I need you,” you whined, eyes on him as he pushed just the tip of his cock into you, going slowly to allow you time to adjust to his size. You were so wet that he slid into you with no resistance, his moans tumbling out as he bottomed out, pelvis touching yours. He raised his torso up with his forearms, kissing you as he began to slowly thrust into you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, crossing your ankles to hold them together as you held the back of his neck. You were already so sensitive from your previous orgasm that the sweet drag of his cock against your walls had you begging for more sooner than you expected. His thrusts became rougher, sending the sound of skin slapping against skin throughout the room.

Your second orgasm already building, Yoongi reached down between you and rubbed tiny circles on your clit, pushing into you erratically. He struggled to keep a rhythm as his own release came closer, and his kisses grew sloppy as he continued rubbing his fingers gently on you. The second orgasm wasn’t as strong, but regardless, your body shook as it overpowered you, walls contracting around his cock. The new sensation set off Yoongi’s orgasm soon after. He groaned out loudly as he thrusted into you a few more times, collapsing on top of you as you both came down from your shared high. There was silence aside from your heavy breathing as he pulled out of you and laid next to you, kissing your temple as he wrapped you up in his arms. You huddled into his embrace, face resting against his chest, listening as his heart rate slowly regulated.

“Hey,” Yoongi whispered.

“Yeah?” you whispered back, afraid to move from the warmth of his arms.

“Nothing’s changed. You’re still my best friend, and I’m still in love with you,” he answered, placing a slow kiss to your forehead as he squeezed you tighter.

“I love you too, Yoongi,” you said in response, hugging him back even tighter.

You weren’t sure if this would last, or if it would even work at all, but that was a question to save for another day. Tonight, all you wanted to do was fall asleep in the arms of the man who had been there for you for eight years, the man you’d loved for half of that time. You didn’t have all the answers, but one thing you were sure about? You were so, so glad that you sucked at calculus.

#bts fic #bts smut #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fic #suga x reader #suga fanfic #suga fic #suga smut #yoongi one shot #btswritersclub #yoongi

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sugaryplum · 7 months

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the tale of sugar cookies

pairing: theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader summary: about how your procrastination got you a first date and a night spent in hogwarts’ kitchen. warnings: language mistakes, lots of cuteness, i made some hogwarts–related stuff up AND I’M SO SORRY TO ALL THE BRITISH PEOPLE. the name “cookies” just fits better. notes: first piece of the autumn(ish) collection, prompt here being baking together. i’m happy with the premise of this fic, i think it’s super cute. i’m a major procrastinator, currently supposed to be studying for the exam i have in a few days so i very much resonate. and i could really eat a sugar cookie right now yum yum

your knee is bouncing. it’s stupid, really. consequences of some of your dumb choices catching up with you. you’re desperately in need of help, but now you try to focus on theo, who’s heading towards your library table.

he says “hi, y/n.” as he sits down next to you and you chuckle faintly. “i get a whole hi? you sound particularly excited to see me.” he rolls his eyes and smiles ever–so–slightly. “don’t acknowledge it or i’ll go back to just nodding.”

you two are in something. you don’t exactly know what it is and can’t pinpoint when it started, but it’s definitely something more than just study buddies, acquaintances or even friends. you’re a people person by nature, you’ve had so many friends over the years, but this, this is different. this is butterflies and hearts all around. this is overhearing his roommates talk about you, calling you “nott’s girl”. you can’t help but blush at even the thought of it.

today however, neither the boy sitting next to you, nor the essay you’re supposed to be finishing with him are the things on your mind.

“alright, you have to stop this.” after fifteen minutes of your mindless writing, theodore’s hand lands on your knee gently. the touch makes your heart go a bit faster. “you will bounce your knee into oblivion.”

“i’m not sure if oblivion takes in bouncing knees.”

he doesn’t acknowledge your poor attempt at a joke and just looks at you. it's the kind of expression that makes you want to tell him everything immediately. so you do.

“you’re gonna think it’s ridiculous.”

“most things you say are a bit ridiculous, didn’t stop you before.”

your problem is fairly simple. you’re supposed to have one hundred sugar cookies in your dorm by halloween. that’s in two days. so far, there are no sugar cookies in your dorm and you want to drown in your sea of procrastination.

theo’s brows furrow. “one hundred?”

“it’s a hufflepuff thing. i’m sure you’ve heard of it.” you sigh, when he looks clueless. “every halloween we give first–years the opportunity to go trick or treating around all the dorms of older students. so the older students such as myself need to have treats prepared for each kid. most of the people just buy some sweets from hogsmeade but i thought it would make an excellent idea to make them myself. i got all the ingredients and stuff but never got around to do it, because the amount is overwhelming. and now halloween is so soon and i have nothing.” you’re almost breathless when you finish your rant, ready to take his scolding. what came upon you when you decided to do this? you had a whole month to go to honeydukes and buy some candies instead.

he’s quiet for a couple of seconds, looking at you the way he always does. a hint of excitement appears in his eyes, as if he got an idea. “i could help you.”

“what?”

“you heard me. tonight you need to finish this essay.” he looks down at your parchment with only the first few sentences and random doodles all around them. “but tomorrow we can do this. bring the ingredients and we’ll meet up in the kitchen. i end practice six thirty, we could start at seven.”

“you think we can make one hundred in one go?”

“nothing i can’t do.”

“that’s not true. but i’ll go with it this time.” you smile. it means a lot to you. not even the act itself, but the fact that he, of all people offered to help you. theo isn’t exactly a person who expresses his feelings easily, he’s not like you. and he definitely is not a person you could imagine in the kitchen, baking cookies for first–years. you thank him and hope he doesn’t notice the red on your cheeks. as expected, he doesn’t answer with anything but his eyes. you go back to the homework, calmer and happier.

time passes and you start feeling sleepy. you tell theo you’re going and you pack up your bag. when you stand up to leave, you hear his voice again.

“so tomorrow? kitchen? seven?”

you smile.

“it’s a date.”

you’re meant to turn around, but once you realize what you said, you freeze and your expression changes. your eyes stare at him for an excruciatingly long second, petrified. but all he does is shrug his shoulders slightly.

“yeah.” not even looking at you. he reacts as if you sky is blue. you can’t help a smile forming on your lips that only turns more beaming when you turn around and he can’t see your face. it’s a date. damn.

being a hufflepuff has it’s perks. one of them is constant access to the kitchen, accessible through the back of the common room. there were so many times throughout the years when you skipped the normal hogwarts’ dinner to cook something homely. or countless moments stumbling there in the middle of the night to make hot chocolate. you thanked helga everytime when you, or your friends got to taste the goodness you prepared.

today you’re also thankful. it’s almost seven in the evening and you’re giggling, seeing as theo is struggling to put on an apron.

“here, i’ll help you.” you tie it and step back, looking proud of your work. “you look like a professional.”

“i am a professional.”

“have you ever actually baked anything?”

“...no. but isn’t it just a couple of–” he moves his wind a few times to demonstrate what he means and you chuckle. he has no idea what he signed up for. “this will be fun.”

you put your arms on the table. “we’re doing this without magic. it’s better like that. tastier.”

he’s not talking for a couple of seconds, opening his mouth as if he’s about to say something. “you’re joking. it’s one hundred cookies. how is a normal, sane person supposed to bake it all in one night, muggle style?”

“that’s exactly what i need your help for.”

“this is a trick, you’re tricking me.”

“not a trick, just my undying charm that caused you to worry about me so much, that you offered me help and now we’re gonna spend the evening baking cookies. you might actually learn something from it, it’ll be good for you.”

“cruel woman.” he shakes his head, but comes up to you anyway, getting a pinch of sugar into his mouth. you give him a scolding look and take away the sugar bowl.

“i’m gonna show you how to make the dough. it’s simple and we need a lot of it, for six whole batches.” his eyes follow you around the kitchen, when you take out ingredients from the shelves. “we need to mix everything together. first, butter and sugar. then flour.” you start mixing things in a big bowl with a spatula, stealing a few glances at the boy in front of you. he’s smiling.

four batches of cookies later, fifth one in the oven, theo really gets into it. at first he seemed skeptical, but now you can see the care in his eyes, when he adds the flour to the bowl, making sure he doesn’t spill anything.

“look at you! doing so well, you might end up as a cookie maker after a–” before you get to finish the sentence, he gets some flour in his hand and throws it all on your face.” when you open your eyes, you see a small grin on his face. “you look like a ghost.”

you talke a big breath and exhale slowly. then you steal the flour from behind his body, ready to fight back. “you are not getting away with this!”

a sweet war starts between you two. each of you fire your shots. all you can do is laugh, there’s powdered sugar on your nose, cheeks and lips. you feel like a small child, so carefree and innocent.

laughter distracts you from the situation you’re in. theo is holding you by the wrists, preventing your hands, armed with a spatula of dough, from rubbing the mass into his face. your eyes open to meet his and in one moment you both turn quiet. you might be delusional, but this seems like perfect time for a kiss.

his lips crash into yours so suddenly, that you barely get the chance to register that it’s actually happening. when he backs away after a second, you pull him in once again, this time him much more confidently.

„you taste like sugar.” you whisper against his lips.

„i wonder why.” he whispers back and kisses you again, and again.

you like the softness on his cheeks when you touch them, and way his hands wrap around your waist. you stay like this for a moment, closer than ever before, until you’re brought back to reality by the oven alarm. sugar cookies. you pat his shoulder and run to get the baking tray.

when you turn back to him, he’s still leaning his lower back on the table, looking at you, smirking. you pretend like you’re not extremely flustered and point to the bowl he never finished mixing. „work, theo! this dough won’t mix itself!”

he quickly grabs the spatula again, saluting to her with it. „yes, chef!”

you giggle. „i don’t think it works like that in cookie shops.”

„yes, chef.” he murmurs quietly, glancing again, as if to see how you react.

you roll your eyes, smile and look away, feeling your cheeks getting hot. your face hurts from all the smiling, but with the smell of sugar cookies and theodore’s eyes on your back, it doesn’t seem like you’re going to stop any time soon.

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott fluff #theo nott fluff #theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader

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sapphire-dreamsky · 6 months

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one name amongst a hundredth

inspiration: heavily inspired by The Hunger Games starring: ryomen sukuna | female reader pairing: sukuna x reader warnings: violence| death of minor characters setting: alternate universe | hunger games universe previous

It was one slip of paper amongst 100 others.

Sukuna stood amongst a crowd of boys dressed in white and grey. He certainly stood out with his pink hair and red eyes. In a sea of monochrome colours, he was the sun.

His peers feared him. His teachers disciplined him the hardest. He was different. And humans hated different people. In a class of thirty students, he was the black sheep. It didn’t matter how much effort he put in his studies or his projects. It would never be enough in a sea of grey and white.

And yet, there was no one else who could outmatch him in a game of wit. After a hunt, he would always bring back deers during winter; hares during summer. His skills were unmatched. But it didn’t matter at school. In class, he was a disturbance. The troublemaker. He could live with this title. He had four years left in school before he could start working. He didn’t know yet what he wanted to do. But one thing’s for sure, he wanted to do something ludicrous. He wanted to live comfortably. He wanted to provide (name) with a comfortable life where she wouldn’t have to worry about tomorrow anymore. He wanted to make every girl who dared mock her, be jealous of her; want to be her. And to do that, he needed money. He needed to make a name for himself. But not like this.

The Capitol’s representative, a woman with an interesting wig that most probably cost more than both his father and mother ever make in one month, dug her gloved coloured hand in the fish bowl; ruffled the slips to create unnecessary tension and stress. A permanent grin etched on her pink coloured lips. If (name) was by his side, he would have remarked that the lady was the very inspiration to the Red Queen in her favourite book. They would laugh at the comparison later on while stuffing their faces with those black sesame filling buns as promised under the willow tree. They would run across the meadow like children should, worrying only when the announcement for yet another game came. Until they both reach their eighteenth birthdays; both of their names forever disappear from the slips of papers in the fish bowl. They would get married when he would be twenty-four and working, and she would be twenty-two forging pieces of jewelleries to sell to those rich enough to afford. She would wear a beautiful white dress with the red ribbon he gifted her on her tenth birthday attached securely to her hair to make it apparent that she was his and he was hers.

He had a whole life ahead. He had so many things he wanted to do. He still had so many things he wanted to say to (name) still.

“Ryoumen Sukuna.”

Ryoumen Sukuna. The pink haired boy dissociated. It was one amongst one hundredth. What were the odds? Not in his favour that’s for sure. He watched blankly as the sea of monochrome clothed boys parted ways. He never felt more exposed than on that day. He could feel the relief on the boys’ shoulders. Their relieved sighs. Their happy stares because it was not them. The slip belonged to the odd one. The one who never belonged. He shouldn’t have been angry. He shouldn’t have been cursing them one by one in his head, wishing their day would come next year. Because if he was in their place, if another slip was drawn by those fucking ugly gloved hands by that damn Capitol representative, he would have felt relieved as well. It was a dog eat dog world. The bottom feeder was always fodder for the sharks. And right now, he was a bottom feeder as he was led by peacekeepers up the podium to join the crying female tribute to give a salute worthy to be broadcasted all over Panem.

“Sukuna!”

Red eyes widened. (Name) was scrambling outside the crowd of girls. Her arms were outstretched towards him. The peacekeepers grabbed at the hysteric kicking girl. He inwardly seethed as their hands dared to lay on her. But he knew, now that he was a player in the game, he had to be strong for the both of them more than ever. Less she becomes a target for the Capitol.

So, he turns around despite the peacemakers’ digging fingers in his back forcing him to walk forward.

“Brat. I will see you when I come back. Behave until I come back.”

Because he was coming back. With each step he took towards the grinning powder-covered representative, his resolve at surviving these games became stronger. His face became colder; eyes losing the innocent gleam he attended the reaping with. They were now replaced with a strong will to survive. No matter the cost.

“And we have here District 12's male tribute, Ryoumen Sukuna!”

Red eyes focused on the girl with the red ribbon being comforted by his mother. His mother’s face was long. Her tears wouldn’t stop streaming. His father put on his bravest face. But Sukuna knew that behind his façade was a man mourning for the death of his only child. His family was all mourning for him. But he wasn’t dead yet. He wouldn’t die yet. He looked down upon the faces of those he went to school with. Their faces all showed relief and happiness. Happiness that he would finally be gone. He committed each face to memory. His hatred for everyone will be his fuel to victory.

#ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna x reader

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sinofwriting · 1 year

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Sweet Nothing - Clay Spenser

Words: 4,912

Note(s): This is a long one that I honestly did not want to end. Also this is x reader but she goes by the nickname Mira. And anything in italics unless stated otherwise is them speaking Urdu. (Oh, and title is of course from a Taylor Swift song)

Tagging @nerdyreaderpapi who said they were really excited for this. Hope they and everyone else enjoys this.

Summary: Clay has a wife and no one believes him. He’s been a part of Bravo for eight months, the wife excuse is getting old, got old after the first month and yet he sticks to it, despite the fact that they never met her, don’t know her name, or seen a single picture of her.

Turning his phone on, a tired smile crosses his lips at the sight of his lockscreen and he can’t help the way his thumb caresses the screen as he mouths the words on it that he knows by heart, a yawn leaving him in the middle as he adjusts to being awake.

The always there ache in his heart, grows now that they’re so close to being home. And he has to resist rubbing at his chest. He didn’t need to catch Trent’s attention, the medic was like a mother hen to all of the team, but especially him since he was the youngest.

Unlocking his phone, he goes to his texts and scrolls through his missed texts, body relaxing into his hammock as he looks at the texts from his wife. Some just random tidbits of things she had to translate, or things she had to buy that they ran out of, things she made for dinner, how she forgot to pick her meds up but not to worry because she did end up getting them, just a week later than she should’ve and he can ignore the email from the pharmacy about it, and that yes Clay she knows she hopeless without him and she’s more than okay without.

He lets out a chuckle at one of her texts telling him that she wants a dog and he needs to stop dragging his feet about it.

“It’s been nearly a year, husband. The longer we go without any paws running about, the more I’ll want.”

He lifts his eyes from his phone, letting them drift around until they land on Brock who’s also laying in his hammock, though he’s more upright, Cerberus in between his legs.

“Hey, Brock.” “Hmm?” Clay doesn’t notice that the rest of the team have also turned their attention to Clay. It wasn’t often that the kid was talkative after missions, especially one like this one. “I’ve been meaning to get a dog, anything I should keep in mind with Cerb?” The dog lifts its head at his name, tail wagging as he looks at Clay. Brock runs a hand over the dog's head. “I’d say once they settle in, we introduce them, just in case.” “What kind of dog you getting?” Clay shrugs, “not too sure yet. It’ll be a puppy, that’s for sure.” His wife would have his head if they’re first pet together wasn’t a puppy. “Puppy? That’s a lot for our job.” “Yeah, who’s getting to watch it when we get spun out or are on deployment?” “My wife, who absolutely exists.” He throws up a middle finger at Sonny, already knowing what comment was going to leave the Texan’s mouth. He makes a noise and half hearted denial, but doesn’t say anything, jaw twitching as Clay tries to press that he had a wife on them again.

“She going to pick you up?” Clay’s eyebrow raises, and he pockets his phone as he feels a shift in the altitude. They’d be landing within the next thirty minutes. “I drove myself. So, no.” Ray makes a noise at that and he has to resist the urge to snap at him or one of the other guys who was staring at him.

“Join us for beers tomorrow?” Sonny asks, as they all step out and start heading to their cars. “We just spent nearly two weeks together, next time absolutely.” Sonny grunts. “Fine, but just remember what you're missing out on, GQ. I could get you a great girl.” “Married.” He shouts, as he rushes to his car. The door shuts before he can hear Sonny’s reply and with it comes a sigh of relief.

The drive home passes quickly and before he knows it, he’s in the driveway of his house. His wife’s car parked in its spot and the porch light on, with its automatic timer set to turn on at eighteen hundred and shut off at four hundred.

Clay feels the ache in his chest grow, being so close and yet still so far away. So, he doesn’t bother grabbing his go bag, even though everything needs to be washed, he just climbs out of the car, barely remembering to lock it and running up the steps to the front door.

Opening the door, he quickly steps into the house, kicking off his boots as he closes the door behind him.

“Baby?” He calls, anxiety and excitement warring inside of him. “Mira?” He uses the name that her parents started calling after learning that he and her grandmother had taken to calling her Miracle in Urdu. “I’m home.” He hears the sound of feet rounding the corner before a cry of his name greets him and he’s got an armful of his wife.

He holds her tight, lifting her off her feet, his hands moving down to her bottom to hold it as her legs wrap themselves around his waist.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He whispers into the skin of her neck, tears pricking at his eyes, as he takes in the feeling of home, the smell of it, of her. “Missed you too.” Her arms loosen from around his shoulders and she pulls back slightly, looking into his eyes as her hands come up to his face. She sighs, thumbs rubbing his cheekbones. “You got even more handsome. I think you can’t, then you leave me and somehow it happens.”

His cheeks turn pink at the compliment, the one she always gives him when he comes home to her. At one point he had denied it, thought she was just saying it, that she didn’t mean it, but with over a decade together, he knew that she meant it. It was clear in her face, the way her eyes were lit up in awe and they couldn’t stop looking at him. Clear in her body, how her breath still sped up, heart hammering in her chest.

Emotion bubbles up in him, how overwhelmingly he is in love with this woman and has been since they met, since he was fifteen. And he knows that if he speaks right now, he’ll stumble over his words, so instead he presses their lips together.

And the ache that had been plaguing him vanishes at the contact. At the soft lips pressed to his. Her hands slip from his face to his neck, her right pointer finger tracing the shell of his ear making him tighten his grip on her and press his tongue to the seam of her lips, gently touching them, before retreating. Even with the sigh into his mouth.

“Do you have anything cooking?” “No.” She breathes, “take me to bed, soldier.” He grins at the command, pressing their lips together, once than twice before starting the trip to their bedroom. “Yes, ma’am.”

—

“Stop looking at me like that.” She murmurs, eyes scanning the menu. “How am I looking at you?” She lifts her eyes off the menu, her husbands grinning face staring at her. “Like you won the lottery.” His grin grows wider, eyes alight with amusement. “Everyday with you is like winning the lottery, miracle.” She has to look away for a moment, lips pressing together to suppress a giggle. Fuck, her husband was a charmer.

Her eyes drift back towards the menu. Despite having dinner two hours earlier, she was hungry again, but not hungry enough to eat something all by herself, so it was a good thing she had Clay with her. She swore sometimes he had more than one stomach on him with the way he ate.

“Want to share a chicken strip basket with me?” “Sure. You want a beer?” He asks, looking out for a waitress. “Please, just whatever you get.”

Resting her chin on her hand, she watches as he orders for them. Seamlessly keeping the waitress's attention off her.

“It ran over. Complications?” She asks when the waitress leaves, curiosity pulling at her. He nods, “Intel was bad. HAVOC nearly blew a gasket.” “But, no injuries.” “No injuries.” The whole team had basically been glorified bodyguards for two weeks. “It was a milk run that went long. Only reason we were there for so long was because of the intel and having to get new contacts.” She hums, switching back to english. “This place seems nice.” She takes a glance around. “Only opened up a month or so ago. Kids aren’t allowed after eight.” “Yes, sir.” The waitress says, setting down two beers in front of them. “And the last family we had just left. So just a warning the music will be going up and our cook is only here until ten.” “Thank you.” She smiles at the waitress. “Of course. Let me know if you need a refill and your food should be out shortly.”

“She’s nice.” “Hasn’t worked long enough in food service.” Her eyes roll. “Says the man who's never worked in food service.” “But you did. Worst six months of our marriage.” Her mouth falls open, “you were deployed for all of it.” He shrugs, “you were miserable working at the place. Me not being there just made that worse.” “Such a softy.” Clay smiles, tangling their fingers together on top of the table. “Only for you, my miracle.”

They're halfway through their beers when the music gets turned up and their basket of chicken strips arrive. Grabbing one, she hisses at how hot it is immediately dropping it back down. She shakes her hand out, rubbing the pads of fingers together.

“Cut it?” “Please.” He doesn’t say anything, sending her a fond look before grabbing the fork and knife that had been resting on the table and cutting the chicken up.

Nearly an hour later and on her third beer and last one, since Clay was also stopping at three since he was driving, the door opening to the bar and raucous noise catches her attention.

Turning her head, she eyes the group of six men and two women, military she noted by some of their stances and they way all the men seemed to be surveying the building. It’s then that her eyes focus on their faces and her eyes widen, recognizing some of them.

“Clay,” she kicks his shin lightly. She hears his sharp intake of breath and she blindly reaches for his hand, squeezing it tight. Her heart thuds painfully in her chest when he grasps it tight, clinging to it. “Do you want to leave?” “No.” “Are you sure?” “It's your choice.” She takes her eyes off his team, going to protest, but he stops her. “No, it’s your choice. I know you don’t particularly like them.” His face twists at that, because that was a light way of putting it.

His wife nearly despised them for judging him just because he had the last name Spenser. Add on Sonny’s treatment those first few missions and how Jason treated him after that first time he worked with Bravo. He was surprised that she hadn’t stormed onto base using her clearance to give the Master Chief a piece of her mind. It wouldn’t shock him if them meeting eventually resulted in that happening. She wasn’t one to hold back, not when it concerned him.

She eyes her husband, remembering how he had come home practically collapsing in her arms because of Bravo, because he had the last name Spenser and more stupid military men weren’t willing to not judge a book by its cover. Remembering their refusal to believe that he was married, all because he won’t introduce them or talk about her, because he was a kid, despite being twenty-seven. But she also remembers the light in his eyes as he talks about Cerb, Trent’s mother henning, Ray’s quiet accompaniment to the range. He’s been with them for nearly a year and she knows that they’ve become like family to them, so close to being brothers in not just name but also bond. And she knows that the only thing that is stopping him from letting them in and really see who he is behind that cocky façade is her. And she can’t deny him family, more people to love him, so she squeezes his hand again.

“Let’s stay.” “Really?” She nods. “They’re your brothers, honey. I can’t deny you people that love you, just because of my misgivings.” He looks at her in awe, blue eyes shining. “I don’t deserve you, not one bit.” He sounds reverent and before she can deny it, protest, he’s leaning across the table, crushing their lips together in a passionate kiss.

A loud whistle breaks them apart and he’s still looking at her in absolute awe. “You, Mrs. Spenser, are going to be spoiled so much later.” She swallows harshly, thighs pressing together at the promise. “And I can’t wait, husband.” His eyes flash but the sound of a chair being pulled out stops him from kissing her again.

“I’m going to take these up and get something else to drink. You want anything?” She asks, grabbing their beer bottles. “Water, please.” She nods, flashing him a smile before standing and heading to the bar, a slight limp in her gait.

He watches her, heat simmering inside of him.

Clay looks away when someone sits across from him, knocking their feet together,

“Would ya look at that, GQ. Said you didn’t want to come out drinking with us and we still ended up at the same place.” The Texan accent makes him sigh. “Sonny. First stop of the night?” “Yeah, even managed to get Blackburn to join us.” Clay spots the rest of the group in the corner where there’s pool tables, brows going up seeing Naima standing next to Lisa. He had forgotten that her parents were in town this week. “Naima eat?” “You think Ray would’ve let her out of the house to drink without food in her stomach?” “I don’t think Ray tells her to do anything.” Sonny laughs, “right you are, brother. Last time Ray tried to tell her to do something,” he whistles. “I don’t think I’ve seen a man regret something so much.” He chuckles, he hadn’t been part of the team for that but he could imagine it. “Lisa text you, we were coming here? Decide to join us anyways?” “No, I actually,” he begins before he can continue, two glasses are being put on the table and a familiar weight is settling on his leg that’s planted outside the booth.

“Next time we should Uber, they’ve got some interesting cocktails.” She tells him, before turning her head to look at the stunned Seal sitting across from them. “Hi, I hope I wasn’t interrupting.” Clay has to press his face against her back to hide his smile. She knew damn well what she was doing and he couldn’t love her more for it. “No, ma’am. You known Clay long?” His eyes flicker between the two. She lets out a laugh, just a little off from her normal one. “Long enough.” He squeezes her waist and she relaxes a little back into him. “Well, my name's Sonny Quinn, I work with Clay since he ain’t got the manners to introduce us.” She extends her hand, giving the Texan’s a quick shake before giving her name and they both watch as his jaw drops and his eyes widen. “But please, call me Mira. Everyone does.”

“Spenser?” He repeats, barely hearing her request. “Yes, sir. And proud.” She lifts her left hand and gives it a small shake where both his grandmother’s wedding band sits and her grandmother's wedding ring. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you” He manages to say after a few seconds. “Mira, I don’t think you’ve met the rest of the team, but if you’d like you could join us. We're just playing some pool and drinking.”

“Join?” The french makes him blink, but he nods. “Sure.” “We’d love to.” He blinks at the language change, but nods, standing. “Alright, then. Can I get you anything to drink?” His eyes flicker to Clay, expecting to see some sort of scowl on the younger man’s face at his offer but the kid just looks amused and tension he didn’t know he was holding, vanishes. “I’m alright. I just got us some water.” She tells him, standing, grabbing one of the waters from the table.

Nodding, he watches as Clay also stands, doing the same as her, his arm looping around his wife’s waist, lips brushing her temple. They make an interesting picture, a pretty one. Cause of course Clay would have a wife even prettier than he was.

Leading them over to the corner that Bravo had commandeered, Jason spots them first, smiling at him, before a brief look of concern takes over at his wide eyes. And a quick nudge to Ray’s ribs from Jason gets everyone else's attention.

“Ladies,” he nods to Lisa and Naima, “gents. Look who I ran into?” He steps aside letting them more easily see Clay, who’s setting their waters down on a high table they took over. “Hey!” A few say at the time, catching other people's attention for a moment. “What are you doing here?” Lisa asks, smiling at the youngest member of Bravo. He tilts his head to the left, gesturing, “date night. Went to dinner then ended up here. Would’ve gone somewhere else if I knew who we’d run into.” He grins, catching the elbow his wife starts to throw before it can make contact. “You love us.” She teases and Clay rolls his eyes but the soft line of his shoulders and grin betrays him. “And who is this?” She looks at the woman next to Clay offering her smile. She smiles at the woman who Clay talks about fondly, always having their back in HAVOC, “I’m Mira, Clay’s wife.” Her smile doesn’t flicker at the sharp intakes of breaths her introduction causes. “You must be Lisa, Clay talks about you often. He talks about all of you often.” She looks at the rest of them. Naima hits Ray’s chest. “I had no idea that Clay was married.”

She quickly shakes the younger girl's hand. “I’m Naima, Ray’s wife. If Ray had something sooner, we could have set up something sooner. All of us wives and girlfriends have a groupchat. I know how difficult it can be.” “Thank you. We’ll have to exchange numbers. You have two kids right? Jameelah and RJ?” “We do.” Her smile widens at Mira remembering her kids names just from hearing Clay talk about them. “Clay mentioned them. He’s never been uncle Clay before. Came home all lit up.” He nudges her slightly. “They meet you and you’ll be Auntie.” “Damn straight, I married you for the benefits, honey.” “And my body.” He grins down at her, holding her tighter against him. She pats his chest. “And your body.”

Naima awes a bit at the young couple. She remembered when her and Ray were first together, they had also been stuck together at the hip. Now with being together for so long and two kids, there wasn’t a lot of being stuck at the hip.

“How long have you two been together? Or married?” She asks, curious. They seemed like newlyweds, just a couple of months under their belt, still firmly in the honeymoon phase. “Been together for twelve years, married for eight.” Clay tells everyone, a proud look in his eyes. “Seven, honey. We got engaged eight years ago.” She corrects, watching the shocked faces of his team. He scowls at the reminder of the near year of waiting he had before they finally could get married. “Worst year of my life.” “It wasn’t even a year!” “It was nearly a year.”

“Now, why do I feel like there’s a story there?” One of the guys says, recovering first. “Trent,” he offers his name, just in case. “That would be because there is.” She pats Clay’s hand. “Clay and I got together when we were fifteen, but there’s nearly a year between us. So, Clay turns eighteen, proposes, is already to go to the courthouse and be married and I had to remind him that we had to wait a good eight months to get married since I was still seventeen.”

“The wait was horrible.” He groans. Mira laughs, “what wait? The only thing that changed was my last name and us getting a piece of paper. Nothing else changed.” “Sex.” Sonny chokes on his beer. “We had sex before.” Lisa lets out a laugh at the exasperated look on her face, she already liked this girl. “Yeah, but it wasn’t married sex.” “Oh my god.” She rolls her eyes, not needing to look at him to know he was grinning, chest puffed out a bit.

She looks at the other women in the group, “Please save me from him.” Naima laughs at the girl, but steps over to the booth where Brock is sitting and motions for her to join. “Sit with me and Brock. I want to know all about you.”

She feels Clay squeeze her hip and brush his lips across her temple before letting her go. She sends him a smile before joining the older woman at the booth, sliding in on the same side that Naima’s sitting on.

“Nice to meet you, Brock.” She greets the man. “You too.”

Clay watches as Naima and Mira start to talk, Brock paying rapid attention if the way his body language is anything to go by.

“So, Bam Bam does have a wife.” He scowls at the Texan, “Told you I did.” “Still. Can see why you kept her away. She’s so far out of your league.” Sonny laughs, sending Clay a wink as he dodges an elbow from Lisa. He looks back at Mira, who’s laughing. “Damn right.”

He felt lucky most days that she even took a glance at him.

“Why did it take so long for us to meet her?” Jason asks. “Does she not like the job? Cause problems at home?” Clay scoffs, “god, no.” It wasn’t that they hadn’t had problems, they’d been together for over a decade they had them, but the idea of his job causing some was laughable. “She encouraged me to enlist, wouldn’t have made it as far without her. And she understands the job.” Something in his tone sets Jason on edge, “Not too much, I hope.” “Spenser,” Eric starts, realizing where Jason’s head went and it’s clear Ray did too by the way he sets his pool cue down. He sticks his chin out, shaking his head. “She’s a linguist.” He gets blank looks. “She knows as many languages as me, more. She’s been a consultant for the CIA since we were twenty. She’s got higher clearance than me.” Sonny whistles, “she’s really out of your league.” He grins at him.

“So, what was the problem?” Jason asks and god was he like a dog with a bone. He could tell there was a reason and all of them knew he wouldn’t stop until he knew why. Clay sighs, sending a look over to Mira, who sensing it, looks back at him and sends him a smile and nod. “I talk shop with her.” Jason sends him a disapproving look, but he ignores it. He liked Jason, but he wasn’t about to take relationship advice from the older man. “So, if I’ve had a bad day or something went wrong I talk about it.” “I don’t get it.” Lisa whacks the Texan on his arm, understanding why Clay hadn’t introduced her or even talked about her. He sighs, “she doesn’t like you,” he looks at Sonny. “Or you.” he looks at Jason. “What? For what reason?” Trent and Ray let out laughs at Sonny’s confusion. They could take a good guess for why she didn’t like either Sonny or Jason and they couldn’t say they blamed her. “She doesn’t have much tolerance for anyone who sees the last name Spenser and immediately assumes I’m like my father.” Jason winces at the statement and reminder of what he had first thought of Clay and how he treated him because of it. Yeah, he could see the reason for dislike. “Shit, Bam Bam. I fucked that one, huh?”

Clay smiles at the older man, “give her a year, maybe two. You’ll get off her shitlist.” “And me?” Jason asks, noticing that his eyes hadn’t drifted over to him. He winces, “that’s a bit more complicated.” Ray lets out a laugh at Jason’s face, slapping him on the back. “I told you that one of these days your big mouth and unwillingness to let things go would bite you in the ass.”

“He did not, Mira!” Naima’s scandalized voice rings out and makes them all turn their heads to look over at the booth where her, Mira, and Brock were sitting. She lets out a laugh, people’s reactions to how exactly Clay proposed never ceased to make her laugh. “He absolutely did.” Naima’s scandalized expression vanishes and her jaw locks as she ushers the younger out of the booth, turning her attention to the man they had just been talking about. “Clay Spenser!” His eyes widen at his name being said like that and he sends a look to Ray, but the 2IC just shakes his head. He was on his own with this one. “I can not believe you! Proposing like that!” She stands with her hands on her hips, lips pressed together in a frown. He relaxes at that. He knew how he proposed wasn’t normal and had pointedly not mentioned how he had to her parents or his grandparents knowing he’d got smacked upside the head. “Naima, I was eighteen.” He pleads, putting his hands up in surrender, sending a look to Mira who’s giggling. “Really, it’s funny more than anything.” “Oh, I’ve got to know this.” Sonny mutters under his breath. There would never be enough material to tease Clay with. And something from his relationship, well that was even juicer.

“How exactly did Clay propose?” Lisa asks, wondering what had the normally chill woman up in arms. “Well, honey, should I tell them or do you want to?” She asks, teasingly as she walks over to him. He wraps an arm around her, pulling her closer. “You can, miracle. Already told it once today, what’s two times?” She nods, wrapping an arm around him as well. Might as well get as comfy as she could with all the eyes on her.

“Well, you already know that Clay was very eager to get married.” “Be a fool not to.” He mutters, interrupting her which she ignores but Trent snorts hearing the mutter. “But he was really eager. My parents and his grandparents were missionaries, so they kept odd hours, were really only home to sleep and even then sometimes depending on how bad the area they were at was they sometimes would sleep there. Which meant we had a lot of time to ourselves.” The guys all grin at that, knowing exactly what that meant. “And with our luck, the week that Clay turned eighteen, they were away helping a village six hours away that experienced a horrible fire.” That earns a few frowns, but everyone is still listening intently to her.

“So, when it rolled over to midnight, I woke him up to wish him a happy eighteenth and to have birthday sex.” She earns a few laughs at how unashamed she is and she smiles at the sound. She could blame it on being a horny teenager but she still wanted to climb Clay like a tree as much if not more than when they were teens. “In the middle of said birthday sex, he just asks me to marry him. Tells me that one of the guys in the village we were in owes him a favor and we could take his truck to get married as soon as the sun was up.” “You didn’t?” Clay shrugs at the disappointed look from Jason. “I’d been thinking about it for months, it slipped out.” He defends. “It was sweet.” Mira also defends him. “Even if my response put a damper on things.” He winces at that, because yeah, he hadn’t reacted the best to hearing the word can’t right after he had proposed and then forced onto his back so she could ride him. It was one of the few times that he had stopped in the middle of sex for a reason that wasn’t cramping or someone knocking on the door. “And what was your response?”

“Can’t, just the word can’t.” She gives Clay a sorry smile. “Even in the middle of sex the logical side of my brain was working.” “Sounds like someone wasn’t doing a good job.” Sonny jokes. “Nah, I was thinking of a way to flip him on his back right before he started talking.” Sonny lets out a loud laugh at that and the way it makes Jason slightly bug eyed. “I definitely like you, Mrs. GQ.” “Can I be Mrs. Bam Bam instead?” She asks, grinning. “Rolls off the tongue better.” “You can have whatever nickname you want, Mrs. Bam Bam.” The Texan tells her, a bit more southern drawl in his voice as he gives her a wink.

#clay spenser x reader #clay spenser imagine #seal team imagine #seal team x reader

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vidjausers-fable · 5 months

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PenPals(Veneer x OC)Chapter 4

Previous chapter

Author’s Note: This is a more Avery-centered chapter, so I hope you enjoy getting to know this character more! Thank you again to my best friend @tinalbion for beta reading for me! Here’s more fanart of Velvet, Veneer, and yes, even Avery.

How would one describe their work without sounding insane? Avery didn’t know, even though she’d been working at that stupid rink close to five years. She was on her thirty minute lunch in the staff lounge, her skates off and under the table at her feet. In front of her, she had a slice of pizza and a soda, with a pen and notepad. She found herself taking notes of things she wanted to tell Veneer throughout the day and used those notes to write to him in the evening. She wanted to make sure that her letters were full of content, whether it be photos or just daily updates. Never once did she want a letter to lack any content, especially since Samson put a lot of effort into writing her back. Sometimes she would get pages of letters and sketches.

For about a month now, they had been sending letters back and forth. Avery felt herself grow closer with the male, yet too shy to ask if she could visit in person. If anyone asked her a few years ago where she imagined herself, she would have not answered with: Oh yeah, I’m sending letters back and forth with someone who was close to going to prison!

It just made her feel less lonely, after losing her one and only friend. Her best friend too. She knew that she had to get back out there eventually, to learn to trust others again and make friends, but it was hard when someone screwed you over as hard as Rebel Rivers did to her. She still felt hurt that one moment they were roommates, and the next second she was quite literally drained of all her money and kicked to the curb. Would it be weird to ask a coworker to go out and do something? What could they even do: go to another nasty joint or go bowling at another cheesy diner?

Absent-mindedly, she allowed her foot to fidget with her skates, rolling them back and forth, though she made sure not to let them roll too far away. She didn’t know what else to write to Samson without sounding as though she was one who constantly complained about their situation. But truly, at her work, she felt lonely, and at home, she felt isolated.

From the other side of the staff lounge, one of Avery’s coworkers watched her silently mope.

What Avery didn’t know was that her coworkers had noticed this loneliness. One did. This one in particular was Gracie, who had been there the longest after Avery, and knew that Avery had been on her own since a young age. Gracie was only a few years older, but she felt as though Avery somehow was more mature than her, and isolated. She didn’t know why, however, but felt like she could possibly work up the courage to reach out and see if Avery wanted to open up to her at a later time. She would have reached out to Avery sooner, but it felt as though that once she finished cleaning up the kitchen for the night, Avery was already gone before she could ask. Gracie was one of the preppers and line cooks while Avery skated and waited tables, which made it hard to get her to slow down, and their breaks hardly aligned with one another. But today would be different, she promised herself. She told herself that she would ask Avery tonight to come with her to the club tomorrow. She knew both of their schedules and that both of them had the day off tomorrow.

It was now or never.

Gracie calculated that Avery had about seven minutes left on her break, same as Gracie herself. Her palms were sweaty. She was nervous that she would be rejected. Now was the best time to do it, if she really would ask Avery tonight.

Stumbling over to the blonde in the booth, Gracie approached Avery. To her, Avery was beautiful and had her own unique style with the pink strip in her hair and the fishnets she wore under her uniform skirt. Gracie wished she had her confidence.

Despite being standoffish, Avery always smiled at her coworkers, so Gracie wasn’t any different. Avery smiled up at her as she approached. “Hey Grace, what’s up?” Avery asked, flipping the paper she was writing over, then sat up straighter.

Gracie scratched the back of her neck. “Sorry if I’m asking on such late notice, but if you’re not busy would you like to come clubbing with my boyfriend and me tomorrow night?” The question came out in stumbled words, so Gracie hoped that they were understandable to Avery, “I just realized that we’ve been working together for two years and we’ve never even stayed over extra for a drink or anything. It felt wrong to me in a way.” She smiled timidly.

Avery blinked up at her coworker in shock. Gracie was…sort of like her. Gracie kept to herself at work, though once when Avery was working, she had waited at her coworker’s table when she was out for some friends, and seemed to be a social butterfly then. Avery still treated her with kindness outside of work.

Avery stared up at the dark-skinned girl and admired how pretty she was with her curly dark black hair she had to keep pinned up and hidden while on the job. It was hard to believe that she even stuck around at a cook job when she could be out there and be a model or something.

“I don’t see why not,” Avery replied, smiling at her, “I’m off and if I take another shift, I would be doing TOO much overtime. So yeah, that sounds fun. Do you want to make plans to maybe do our hair together and makeup? I also have a couple dresses I could wear. I’ll bring them over.” Watching Gracie’s bright brown eyes wide when she answered did make her feel happier in a way, “I could come over, or you could come over to my place.”

Gracie nearly bounced off the floor. Avery wouldn’t realize that she had just opened Pandora’s jar. “OMG, that would be amazing!” She clapped her hands in excitement, “You can come over to my place, I have all KINDS of makeup to share with you. Just text me through my personal number. Can I write it down?” she pointed to the piece of paper that Avery’s hand had remained on top of the entire time.

Avery looked at it and handed it over hesitantly, “Yeah, sure.” She watched carefully as Gracie wrote her number out, and made sure she didn’t flip the page. She was a bit anxious for others to find out she was sending letters to someone who had been arrested.

“Text me tonight so I can text you my address ASAP! I don’t have anything going on, so I’ll be back at home with my boyfriend. Feel free to come over any time! This is going to be so much fun.” Gracie giggled, “Oh, we only have a minute left of our break! We should get back to work. It’ll help make time pass for the rest of the night!” She turned on the ball of her feet and rushed back into the kitchen. She stopped for a moment to look back at Avery, “Don’t forget to text me!” And then she was gone.

That wasn’t so bad… Gracie thought to herself, Avery is actually an interesting person. I shouldn’t have judged her so quickly. With that thought, she returned to her work.

Avery didn’t personally mind being a couple minutes late returning and took her time to slip back into her skates, sliding her notepad into her uniform apron. She chuckled quietly to herself at the encounter with Gracie. She didn’t realize Gracie had so much energy in her. Though she had to think to herself for a moment—Gracie had been so nervous about approaching her? Did Avery give off that vibe…? Was she just that unapproachable to others?

Shaking off some creeping thoughts, Avery skated back into the room, where her shift was as normal for the rest of the night. When she returned home, she was almost too tired to shower but did anyway because she did not want her bed to smell like grease. So, she took a long hot shower, taking her time to wash the smell off herself before she went to bed, not even adding to Samson’s letter for the night, too exhausted from her long shift. She did make sure to text Gracie before she passed out.

When Avery awoke, she was more sore than usual. Honestly, she was considering texting Gracie to cancel. The longer she lay there in bed, teetering back and forth, the more she began to think about the day. She had already promised her coworker to go out for the night, and she didn’t like the thought of chickening out and then facing Gracie at work the next day. Plus, it would probably do her good to get out to somewhere that wasn’t the grocery store. This soreness would pass.

But did she really want to face the Boom Box again? After what had happened with Velvet and Veneer, and now her own personal trauma of having her own art stolen, that place seemed almost…traumatic for her now. Even if nothing remotely traumatic happened to her in it.

Avery released a long breath. “Okay, stop thinking or you’ll start to spiral. Let’s get up and do something,” she encouraged herself and stood, stretching her long limbs above her head. If her body could make cracking sounds, then it would have.

Avery checked the time. It was only 9am. She sent a text to Gracie, seeing that she had texted her address late last night, probably around the time when they both got home. I just got up. Going to get ready. Do you want breakfast while I’m getting some? There, that seemed friendly, right?

Gracie texted back immediately, making Avery wonder if she was staring at her phone the entire morning, waiting for Avery to text. Yes pls! A coffee and a burrito if possible! ^0^

Will do! How do you like your coffee? After texting, she set her phone aside to brush her hair and look at herself in the mirror. She ran her fingers over the pink strip in her hair, seeing that it didn’t look as glossy as usual. Was your natural hair color supposed to fade this early? She brushed her teeth and then tended to her pets.

“Sorry guys, I can’t let you out today. I’ll be out all day. But here’s some extra treats to hold you over until then.” She took them out of their pen and allowed them to eat the snacks in her lap. When they were done, she put them back and returned to her phone. She picked it off her kitchen counter and checked to see if Gracie had answered her text. She had, so Avery made a mental note to her coffee order.

Avery’s fingers acted out of instinct, and she found herself looking up Samson on her phone. When no name popped up, she realized that she was about to text a man’s number that she didn’t even have—but a number she realized she desperately wanted. This made her blush to herself before she went and looked for Samson’s letter where she had started but not quite finished yet. She wanted to finish writing to him, but she didn’t want to keep Gracie waiting.

“I’ll finish you tomorrow morning before work,” she promised to Samson as if he was right in front of her, then set the letter down on the kitchen island where she did most of her writing.

Avery took her bag and headed out the door after she dressed. Today she was in a black t-shirt and pink skirt with fishnets. She had brought with her a dress or two for the club, though wondered if Gracie would make them go out shopping for some together. She secretly hoped not.

There was a coffee shop near the bus stop that Avery often visited on the days she went grocery shopping. She went ahead and got their coffees and two burritos before making sure that they were wrapped up nicely in a bag and secured. Sometimes the roads in Mount Rageous were crazy fast and tossed you back and forth, and Avery didn’t want to start this day with coffee all over herself or her dresses.

The ride took about fifteen minutes, and sure enough, the bus was fast, tossing Avery around in the back. Had she not needed to bring so much with her, she would have just skated and saved herself the aches and pains in her arms and legs. She pulled the brake for the bus driver when she neared the street that Gracie had texted her and then stood. When she exited the bus, she immediately texted Gracie, Hey I just got off the bus and I’m close. Do you think that you could step outside so I can see where you’re at?

There had been no response back immediately, though very did see the seen marker pop up under the text almost instantly. Her face was still buried in her phone when she heard someone call her name, “AVERY! I’M OVER HERE!”

Avery looked side to side but saw no one. All there were, was the apartments stretching down from both left and right.

“I MEAN UP HERE!”

Avery then looked up and saw Gracie standing on a fourth story balcony. She was waving her hand back and forth erratically while smiling. She cupped her mouth when she called out, “CUT THROUGH THE BUILDING IN THE CENTER AND I’LL MEET YOU DOWNSTAIRS!”

“Okay!” Avery called out but not nearly as loud as Gracie, so she wasn’t sure if her coworker had heard her. Gracie smiled anyway and disappeared back into her apartment.

As she had been told, Avery cut through the center of the apartments, where there were stairs, and waited in case that was where she was supposed to be. Sure enough, she heard the loud tapping of frantic shoes before Gracie made an appearance. She was wearing shorts, a white hoodie that had rabbit ears coming off the top of it, and house slippers. It was strange to see her outside of her work uniform.

“Good morning!” Gracie said excitingly, greeting Avery by kissing both her cheeks. It was a bit of a greeting that was too far into Avery’s bubble, but she didn’t voice that. Gracie immediately took the food out of her hands, making Avery’s load lighter. “We only have to go up one flight of stairs to the lobby, and then we can go into the elevator.”

Avery smiled and teased, “Thank god. You scared me for a moment when I saw you on the fourth floor. I’m on the third floor in my apartment, and our elevator breaks often.”

Gracie giggles, “You should move here then. The maintenance here is pretty fabulous!”

Avery thought to herself, If I could only afford it. Gracie and I work the same job, but she also has her boyfriend to help pitch in for rent…

“Oh shoot, I forgot to ask if your boyfriend wanted anything for breakfast.”

Gracie scoffed playfully and waved her hand, “Psh, don’t worry about him. He can fend for yourself. Thank you SO much for breakfast, it smells so good! Where did you get it?”

Avery followed Gracie up the stairs and to the elevator, “There’s this coffee shop kinda in the center of my apartments. It’s an amazing hang out place, and the food and coffee is—and don’t tell the boss—so much better than at the diner. I go there every other week, if not every week. It’s called the Truffle Tower ironically. Maybe the two of us can go together after work one day.”

“I would SO love that!” Gracie squeaked and pressed the button to the fourth floor, continuing to talk as the elevator went up, “My boyfriend is home but he won’t bother us. I told him to play video games all morning if he had to. I’m so excited to have a girls day out!” She tried not to jump while they were in the elevator, but once they stepped out she leaped for joy, unable to contain herself.

This made Avery laugh and snort, “Are you SURE you need this coffee? You’re bouncing off the walls!” she teased.

Gracie was too pumped to stop bouncing, even as they made it to her door. There was a doormat in front that said, Only come in if you have my delivery. “Gods yes, I’ll need more bean juice if you want to keep this party in motion! Oh, here’s my place.” She unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Upon stepping inside, Avery was greeted with an apartment that was luxurious compared to hers. The walls were light blue and the furniture had a gray, blue, or black modern tone to them. She could see the balcony with glass sliding doors, where Gracie had called out to her earlier. Avery almost gasped out loud.

What Avery was almost greeted with was a tall male with dark blue hair and pale skin. He was wearing a hoodie and boxer briefs, and was also in the middle of eating cereal messily.

“TROY! I TOLD YOU TO GET DRESSED, WE HAVE A GUEST OVER!” Gracie screamed and grabbed an orange off the counter, throwing it at him.

Troy laughed and grabbed the orange with one hand, the other still wrapped around his bowl, “I’m not starving myself for you, woman! Fine, I’m going!” He took the orange and the bowl and disappeared into one of the rooms, closing the door.

Gracie released a dramatic sigh, and for a moment she seemed to calm down, “Sorry about that. He doesn’t like to listen to the words I say!” She scoffs and takes Avery to her kitchen island. It was much longer and had a better countertop than Avery’s back at home. “Let’s eat here before I starve myself. Do you want anything back for breakfast?” she asked calmly as she took out the burrito box and the coffee labeled with her name.

Avery returned the smile and shook her head, “No way. I asked because it’s a treat from me.” She took her own coffee and removed the protective top that prevented spills and dove it, “I forgot to ask what meat you wanted on your burrito, so I hope sausage was okay. I got bacon for myself in case you didn’t like it.”

“Sausage was a fine choice! Thank you again!”

As they ate, it was silent, but only for a moment before Gracie began to speak again, “I’m really excited to go clubbing tonight. I heard that there’s going to be something exciting going on at the Boom Box tonight. Have you seen it on the news?”

Avery tried not to pale. Luckily her pink skin never seemed to lose much color, “No. I guess I haven’t lately. What’s going on?”

“I’m not quite sure yet…But I heard that it’s going to be AMAZING! It’s a surprise but it’s being announced tonight. I’m thrilled you’re going. It gets lonely with two people, especially when the other person wants to go do something else. With you and my boyfriend, there will always be someone there! Have you been clubbing at the Boom Box before?”

Avery tried not to hesitate, but her words faltered for a moment, “Oh, yeah. Once or twice. But I haven’t since I started picking up evening and double shifts.”

Gracie pouted her bottom lip, “That sucks. I see you working your ass off all the time. You deserve some time to rest.”

Avery shrugged it off, “I guess I’m just trying to save up some extra money.”

“But aren’t you burnt out or something?”

“Yeah, a bit, but at least I’m getting numbers saved up in my bank account.”

Gracie crossed her arms as she scoffed, “That won’t do you well, Avery! You’ll work yourself into a grave at this point. From now on, you and I are going to have some more girl time. Got it?”

Avery chuckled, not arguing with her coworker, though she worried that this wouldn’t work out. “Alright, alright. We’ll see how tonight goes, and go from there.”

Gracie agreed and then the two finished off their food. Avery went into the kitchen and washed the grease from her hands. “Where’s your trash?”

“It’s under the sink, but I’ve got it!” Gracie insisted and took their breakfast trash, throwing it away for them. “I see you brought some dresses. Can I see them?” she asked excitingly,

“Sure, I wasn’t sure what to bring really. I don’t have many dresses, but I dug out a couple. It’s been a while since I wore them though.”

Avery pulled out three dresses. There was a silky black one that reached her knees, and a blue one that had a low V line with a window in the back as well. It was the third dress that caught Gracie’s attention, however—it was a neon pink latex dress. The color was the same as the pink strip in her hair. The moment that Avery lifted it, Gracie covered her mouth and gasped, “Oh my god, try that one on, I think that one’s perfect!”

Avery blushed and held the dress. She looked down at it. Indeed it had been a while since she had worn this particular dress. In fact, it was probably a year at most? The last time she had was when she was at a Velvet and Vene…a…a concert. Yeah. How could she have forgotten? She had the sudden urge to shove this dress into the toilet and flush it until it was gone, but she couldn’t let Gracie know that she was upset. Instead, she smiled and nodded, “Yeah, of course. Where’s your bathroom?”

Gracie pointed to a door to the left, “That one. While you’re getting dressed, I’m going to get my makeup out. I already know the perfect look for you!”

Avery disappeared into the bathroom and changed into the pink dress. She hesitated to look at herself in the mirror but smiled when she did. The dress still fit her perfectly. It was a tube top that reached her midthigh. It wasn’t too short or too long. It also didn’t squeeze her, which surprised her considering she worked in such a greasy place. Her neck looked exposed, however, so she wished she had grabbed some of her jewelry to help her not feel as naked. With some fishnets and her long black boots, her outfit would be complete! Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad wearing this dress again.

Avery didn’t know what to expect when she stepped out of the bathroom. Gracie was seated on her couch and gasped the moment she saw her, her jaw nearly hitting the floor. “Oh. My. God. AVERY, YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL!” She almost cried, “Do you have shoes to go with it?!”

“I have my knee-high black boots since they could go with any of the dresses, and I plan on wearing my fishnets. I was wondering if you had a spare necklace I could borrow? I totally forgot how exposed this dress makes me feel right here.” She touched her neck.

“Girl, I was thinking the same THING! We’ll look for something before we leave okay? Now, tell me, which makeup style do you prefer…” Gracie motioned for Avery to sit down next to her.

Together, the two spent the morning and afternoon prepping for the evening to come. They watched a show together, and when it was closer to time, Gracie did their makeup. Avery had a glittery pink eyeshadow along with some black that smudged all around her eye. She also had lip gloss that made her lips look sparkly but didn’t take away from the masterpiece that was her eyes. Gracie chose something more teal. Her outfit was a teal crop top and skirt that could have been one dress had Gracie not wanted to show off her midriff. She also wore teal makeup to match. Her top lip was black while her bottom was the same blue as her dress. The two looked ready for the club, and Avery felt ready for it too.

After a small fit between Gracie and Troy, the two were soon out the door. Gracie was glued to Avery’s side the entire time, hugging her arm, as Troy walked behind him. Gracie happily chatted the entire time, even through the bus trip to the Boom Box.

Standing outside the Boom Box made Avery’s knees feel weak. Though the real nerves hit her the moment she passed the bouncer and stepped into the club. The lights blasted the colors of the rainbows and the combination of the others screaming along with music made it nearly impossible to hear Gracie despite the girl speaking directly into her ear.

Avery stood in the middle of the Boom Box now, but she recalled the familiar excitement she felt when she had gone to see Velvet and Veneer for the first time. She stood in the loud, crowded room now, but her mind was elsewhere, further away into the reaches of her memory. This brought Avery back so many months ago. Maybe even a year? Back when Rivers and her were rising to the top. Until they suddenly weren’t. Velvet and Veneer had hit the charts and hit them hard enough that it nearly knocked River off the charts. Avery believed that was the reason Rivers turned on her—when she realized Avery didn’t want to do more to rise back to the top. That’s why Rivers had stolen her work.

Staring at the stage, she saw Veneer and Velvet performing. She really did feel like she was living a sweet dream listening to them.

Avery was at the front of the crowd, her hands in the air reaching for the popstars. She was in the VIP crowd, screaming in pure joy. She swore Veneer turned toward her and winked, making her feel butterflies in her stomach and a blush in her cheeks. This was pure bliss, she had noticed him!

Sweet Dreams continued to play through the club, and even with the crowd joining in on the fun of singing, the twin’s voices carried the most. Velvet’s voice rang the loudest, and Avery wished that she could hear Veneer more. He was her favorite out of the two, though she never would admit it out loud since everyone else seemed to be Velvet fans.

“Alright, Mount Rageons!” Velvet held the microphone to her lips, her voice blaring over the music as it died down, “We’re so appreciative of our fans that we decided to give you all a gift. From us!” She grabbed some shirts and started to throw some out into the crowd. When someone caught the shirt, the fan screamed loudly.

When Veneer grabbed t-shirts of his own, that’s why Avery’s stomach dropped. She screamed as loud as she could and threw her hands into the air, trying to reach as far into the air as she could. For a moment, she swore he looked at her, flashing a charming smile her way. She wasn’t imagining it. They made eye contact. Veneer took one of the shirts and tossed them her way. Avery nearly climbed over the crowd to catch it. Some people tugged on it, but she refused to let it go. She threw it over her body before anyone could snatch it from her. The shirt was a fluorescent neon green, which glowed in the dark. It was completely unique! Holding it and wearing it almost made her cry. She pulled it over her pink dress and hugged it tight.

“I LOVE YOU VENEER!!” She screamed, cheering for her favorite idol.

Veneer winked, “I love you too!”

Avery nearly fainted on the spot. He noticed her!

Velvet took the front again, her brother falling behind as always. She looked over to the crowd as if they were her puppets and called out, “Whoever caught the t-shirts get backstage passes to meet my brother and me PERSONALLY! We look forward to seeing you all!” She blew kisses to the crowd, “Goodnight everyone!”

Avery’s jaw fell open, and her knees became weak. She was about to faint for real. Holding onto that shirt felt more like a priority than anything. She couldn’t let anyone steal it from her! She pushed through the crowd and found the twin’s bodyguards, who were intimidating.

“I…I have a pass.” She pointed to her shirt nervously. Her heart was beating faster the more she thought of the two, but specifically Veneer.

The guards leaned in closer and observed the shirt closer before they parted the way, allowing Avery to squeeze past her. One of the guards followed her down the hallway.

“To the door to the left,” he said from behind her, making her jump. The closer she came to the door, and soon her hand was on it. She was about to meet the people who inspired her the most…

Avery snapped out of it. She had been so out of it that she didn’t remember where she was or what she was going. Something felt wrong. When Avery looked up to the stage, she noticed her. A beautiful woman with a sparkling blue dress and pure white hair that touched her waist. Rebel Rivers. She was on the stage with small creatures on her shoulders. They were Trolls…?

Everyone quieted for Rivers as she called out to the crowd, “Brozone and I are happy to announce our collaboration and celebration of smaller artists with our Battle of the Bands! Brozone and I will open with some banging music before we ourselves will become judges. MAKE SURE TO COME BACK NEXT MONTH AND SIGN UP STARTING TODAY! The first ten people to sign up get autographs from Brozone and me! Cheers, my loves!” She blew a kiss to the crowd, and everyone screamed their approval.

Everyone except Avery.

This had been what Gracie was talking about earlier in the day. A special announcement.

Avery felt as though she was about to cry. She couldn’t breathe. Remembering everything upset her, and now Rivers was in the same room as her. When Gracie was preoccupied with her boyfriend, she slipped out of the Boom Box, her legs heavy as she dragged them. The wind felt cold against her cheeks as she cried to herself. She shouldn’t have come tonight.

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highqueenofelfhame · 1 year

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i don't know who i think i am updating so many times this week, but here we are. enjoy it while it lasts, kiddos. and happiest of birthdays to @shyvioletcat who is the reason i even wrote this fic in the first place. love u bb 💚

rowaelin // 7k words // masterlist

The pillow beside him still smelled faintly of her perfume, yet when he reached for the warm body that should have been next to him, he found nothing but cool, rumpled sheets. Rowan let out a low groan of disappointment and rolled halfway off the bed to feel for his jeans. When he finally found his phone in the back pocket and checked the time he knew she hadn’t been gone for too long. It was only six-thirty in the morning, and he was almost positive she had been pressed against him the majority of the night.

Gods, last night. Rowan hadn’t had sex in months, and the woman Connall had pushed toward him like an offering had been his perfect match. Everything he gave her, she had given back. She took as much as he did, and he couldn’t help himself when he sent her tumbling over the edge until she was a shaking, sweaty mess. It was, by far, the sexiest thing he had ever seen. The sounds of her breathy moans, the feeling of her cherry red nails dragging sharply up his back and over his shoulder blades, or of the way she’d pressed her fingertips into his lower back to urge him closer… Those were things he would not soon forget. He was pretty sure if he looked in the mirror, he would have the reminder of her hands etched on his skin until at least tomorrow.

He was desperate to do it all over again with her.

It took him a moment, but he managed to find another pair of sweatpants and an old college t-shirt in the back of the closet. As the door leading to the apartment closed behind him, a heavy sigh sank from his chest. Connall had a smirk that said he knew way more than he should. The bastard. He spent so many late nights at the bar, it wouldn’t surprise Rowan if he had been there all night and heard every sound he pulled from Aelin’s soft, perfect lips.

“Terrasen won last night.” Connall was standing in the doorway that led to the kitchen, drying a clean glass as he took in his friend.

“I know,” Rowan grumbled, adjusting his clothes from the night before in his hands. Several of his missed text-messages had been about their victory. Apparently, it had been a close game that went into overtime. But it seemed that Orynth grew football players in the mountains, fertilizing them with the gods only knew what.

Through the window the sky was already full of fluffy white clouds. It made it hard to be too glum. Soon the sun would be shining brightly over Varese. It was a new day, Monday was a new week, and there was still time for someone to knock Terrasen out of the winning streak that had been going on for the last two years before Rowan had to face them in a few months.

“Your girl left about an hour ago, if you were wondering.” He was, but instead of saying so he just grunted a response and headed out the door.

The following week was his normal routine. Rowan returned to Doranelle after spending the rare off-weekend down in Varese. More than once he had tried to pry details from Connall about if Aelin had been back to the bar or not. Apparently she hadn’t, but his friend swore to let him know if she did. It had been five days and she hadn’t been seen. Was it pathetic the way he wished he had a way to contact her? Definitely. But there was something about her that he couldn’t shake, that he refused to let fade into the recesses of his mind.

On the sixth day since meeting her, not that he was counting, he’d carried his laundry hamper downstairs to throw in the wash. Out of habit, he patted down the pockets of all his pants. Rowan had learned the hard way a few years ago that not doing so resulted in very expensive headphones being ruined in the wash. Could he afford another pair? Of course he could, but it was a waste of money when he could simply not wash them and not have to spend two hundred dollars for no reason.

There was a soft crinkling in the pocket of his jeans, one that he barely noticed. They were already halfway into the washer when Rowan fished out the folded piece of paper. Merely a receipt from any of the establishments he visited last weekend, he tossed it on top of the dryer while he finished loading the rest of the clothes and tossed in the detergent. He swiped it up again to throw away on his way out. For reasons unbeknownst to him, he decided to look at it before trashing it. Just to make sure it wasn’t from anything he might need to return later.

When he unfolded it and saw the writing over the top of a faded credit card transaction, his heart stopped beating. It wasn’t a receipt. Well, it was, but nothing that he had purchased. It was a note written in blue pen, words a little smudged from being folded up before the ink had fully dried. Each letter was in swooping, sloping, cursive letters with a little heart underneath.

Just in case you need to release some more tension. I know I do. - A

The short message was followed by a series of numbers, and Rowan had never in his entire life scrambled so hard to put a contact into his phone. A tattooed finger traced over the numbers, lips mouthing the numbers in an attempt to double check himself. Without giving himself a single heartbeat to change his mind or chicken out, he pressed call.

By now she could have forgotten about him entirely. Maybe she wasn’t interested anymore, or perhaps it had taken him too long to reach out. He did have a good reason for the latter, but she might not see it that way. There was hope that she would, though. Everything about her had seemed easy going and he doubted she would be mad that she sent him on a scavenger hunt with no directions. Maybe if he wore normal clothes instead of athletic shorts or sweats more often he would have found it sooner. It was too late to change that now, though. Impatient fingers drummed atop the counter while it rang, and rang, and rang.

Her voice chirped through the speaker, but when he opened his mouth to speak he realized it was just the recording of her voicemail. Her accent, so different from his but lovely all the same said in a teasing tone, “While it is your absolute utmost misfortune to have missed me, leave a message and I’ll call you back. Unless it’s about work. Call my work phone and we’ll talk about it.”

Rowan had never wished so badly to have someone’s business line in his life, but he still patiently waited for the beep. His heart was a stampede of wild horses while he waited for the beep. As soon as it sounded, he cleared his throat and immediately grimaced at himself. Idiot. Why didn’t he do that before it started recording?

“Aelin, it’s Rowan. I’m sorry it took me so long to call, but someone hid her phone number in the back pocket of my jeans and I just got around to doing laundry. I’m not in Varese this week, I’m actually in Doranelle for work. But I should be back in town soon, maybe next week, I–” The voicemail beeped, declaring the message was fully recorded and he swore colorfully as he ended the call.

With a mind of their own, his fingers opened a new text thread and shot off a message: My voicemail got cut off, but I’d love to see you again. Let me know if you’re up for it. xx

After pressing send, he cringed. Since when did he sign off a text message with an x? Much less two of them? He’d spent one night with the woman and now he could barely figure out which way was up and which was down.

Sure, he had been out of the dating game for quite some time, but he didn’t have to sound like he was. The last time he flirted intentionally had been years ago. Every other encounter had been random hookups in random cities across the world where he didn’t have to worry about following up.

Except that this time, he wanted to. There had been so much ease when he talked to her, the flirting had come naturally. It hadn’t even been wholly intentional to begin with. Rowan had never used talking about soccer as a seduction technique, but it had clearly worked on her somehow. The banter they’d shared back and forth displayed a unique type of chemistry he hadn’t experienced in a long time, if ever. He could only hope that she felt the same way and still wanted to do it all over again, too.

~*~

“I really like everything you have here, but–”

“It’s not great,” Luca interrupted, his shoulders sagging while he waited for the sharp edge of disappointment. Aelin’s lips pursed as she looked at the young man. Luca was fresh out of college as a graphic designer, and working for the Fireheart Art Foundation was his first real world job post-graduation. It made her simultaneously want to berate the insecurity out of him and comfort him by how traumatized he was from difficult professors in college.

“I was just going to say that I want this header font to be white.” She gave him a look that portrayed exactly how she felt about how hard he tended to be on himself. “I wouldn’t have hired you to work in this office if I thought you needed to be micromanaged.”

Luca let out a breath, nodding and sinking into one of the chairs across from her desk. Nervous hands ran up and down his thighs like he was shaking out the nerves. She understood. The feeling of mountains of pressure on you and like you had no room for error was a familiar one. Helas below, she felt like that right now. Aelin was in her mid-twenties and running a charity and she refused to let it fail.

“I just want to do a good job.”

“And you are, my friend. I chose you and your portfolio of work out of a lineup of seasoned professionals. You bring something new, young, and fresh to the table. Your lack of experience doesn’t mean that you’re incapable of doing a good job. It just means that you’re still learning, and I want to help you with that. You don’t need to be nervous to show me something that you’ve created. If something needs to be tweaked, obviously I’m going to tell you. But you understand the brand I’m building and the image I’m putting out almost as well as I do. Be more kind to yourself,” she said gently, a soft smile pulling at her lips.

“You are nothing like what my professors said future bosses would be like.” Aelin laughed at the same time her personal phone started buzzing on her desk. She didn’t recognize the number and it was silenced as she handed the tablet back over to Luca.

“I sure hope not. While I have a specific vision of things, I want you to use your creativity and have fun with it. I’m never going to give you a list of a hundred specifications. I’ll tell you what needs to be included and let you take your knowledge of our company plus your creativity so you create something you’re proud of. When you eventually move on from Fireheart, I don’t want you to have a stack of things you made for us that you aren’t proud of to show off. Okay?” Aelin’s phone pinged with a new voicemail from whoever had been calling and sighed. “Email me the file after you change the header.”

Luca gave a mock salute and flipped the tablet case closed, walking toward the door and shutting it behind him. Aelin let out a content sigh in the silence, leaning her head against the back of her hair while she gazed out the window at the city below her. She let it sink in, the work she was beginning in a new country on a different continent, an ocean away from home.

It was easy to allow herself to feel pride in the foundation, an idea she brought to her parents a few years ago. The Fireheart Foundation began three years ago when she was twenty-two. What started as an idea to work with local underprivileged youth in Orynth soon blossomed into two, then three, then four offices scattered over Terrasen. Her home country had always taken huge pride in the arts– Orynth itself was huge on the importance of it for its young citizens. The rest of the world shared those sentiments because by its second year they were receiving global recognition. Now, on the eve of its third birthday, Aelin was expanding to Wendlyn: her mother’s home country.

She had plenty of family in Varese. Most of Evalin’s family still lived here, Aelin’s grandparents included. Ever the proud grandfather, Ciaran Ashryver had been beyond excited to help her find an apartment until the end of November, locate appropriate office space, and had started putting out a few feelers for potential employees almost as soon as she mentioned the idea. By the time she stepped off her plane, she was all set with somewhere to live and a floor in a building downtown to begin working.

A handful of employees from the other locations in Terrasen had arrived this morning to be hands on in helping train some of the Varese staff. New members to this office were taking positions that needed little actual training and something more like direct guidance from Aelin. Like Luca and his graphic design. He didn’t need to be trained how to do his job, just needed the push to grow into his full potential.

Aelin’s thoughts were tugged back to reality when another small vibration from her phone had her reaching for it. Ah, right. The missed call, voicemail, and now text message from the number she didn’t know. It was a local area code– probably a new employee getting her their contact information like she’d requested.

As soon as she saw the message preview, though, she was quick to unlock the screen. With arms braced on her desk, she scanned the message with a growing smile on her face. Rowan. He had finally found the note, it seemed. No time was wasted in saving his number to her contacts and tapping furiously to get to the voicemail.

When Rowan was cut off mid-sentence, she laughed out loud. It was really more of a school girl’s giggle than anything, relief that he had not just texted, but called, too. It made warmth flood from her toes to her fingertips. There had just been something about him, about their matching wit and seductive teasing that left her craving more. For the first time in an extremely long time, it hadn’t felt like it was just about sex. Despite how she had kept everyone at arm’s length and refused to let them get close since her relationship with Sam had ended so poorly, things with Rowan had been different since the moment he sat beside her at that bar. It didn’t mean it would go anywhere besides a fun fling, but a kernel of hope still flickered in her chest.

She tried to think about what Lysandra would tell her to do: how long she should wait to text him back, what the rules were. It had already been nearly a week, though. Hadn’t there been enough waiting on both parts? His voicemail had sounded rushed enough that it was like he was impatient to talk to her again, too. The follow up text practically proved it. No, she wouldn’t follow silly hard-to-get dating rules. Maybe she didn’t want to be hard to get. Besides, she was only here for a few more months. It likely wouldn’t lead to anything serious, and there was no harm in having fun while she was here.

That is what Lys would want for her. Something fun and easy that she didn’t have to think too much about. That would give her release from the insanity of running an international foundation with little outside help. Having made up her mind, she tapped his contact and hit the call button.

“Aelin?” Her name was breathless on his tongue when he picked up after the third ring. With a brow furrowed in curiosity and a small smile resting on her lips, she leaned back in her chair and looked up at the ceiling in an attempt to ignore the somersault her stomach lurched into when he said her name.

“Rowan,” Aelin drawled, entirely positive that he sighed with what sounded like relief. “Did I catch you at a bad time? You sound–”

“No, I was just– no. This is good. Perfect time, actually.”

“Are you sure?” She heard rustling on the other end, like maybe he was adjusting himself where he sat.

“Is it embarrassing and off-putting if I tell you I lunged for my phone when I heard it ringing? I was in my bedroom and jumped onto the couch to get it before it stopped.”

“What if it hadn’t been me calling back? Did you even check the caller ID?” The laughter that bubbled out of her was entirely involuntary. Having a man that excited to talk to her was so sweet it made her teeth ache. When had anyone ever been so forthcoming with any level of affection for her? Dorian, probably, but that was a relationship based solely on fun and most of the time he was teasing.

“No,” he grumbled. “I would have disconnected the call as soon as I got a denial it wasn’t you.”

“That is the most adorable thing a man has ever said to me,” she vowed, her hand resting on her stomach to calm the swarm of butterflies within.

“I’m not doing an absolute shite job, then?” There was a timidness to his voice that made her heart squeeze. What on earth did he have to be nervous about?

“I called you back, didn’t I?” She teased, but when he didn’t answer and seemed to be waiting for a genuine response, she assured him that he was doing absolutely perfect.

~*~

“Who the fuck has you smiling, Whitethorn?” Lorcan Salvaterre whipped his towel out to smack Rowan directly in the stomach. He immediately frowned, locked his phone, and rubbed the spot above his belly button the corner of the towel had popped. Lorcan tossed the weapon over his shoulder, sitting down on the bench in front of his cubby. The wet, dark curtain of hair hung around his face as he bent down to start shoving his match gear into the bag at his feet.

“Nobody.”

“That’s a lie,” Fenrys quipped from behind them. Rowan glared over his shoulder, knowing full well that the blonde was in complete cahoots with his twin brother. Evidently Connall had told him everything. How Fen had managed to keep his mouth shut about it all week was entirely beyond him. If it hadn’t been about his personal life, Rowan might have been impressed with his self control. “He met a girl.”

Lorcan’s head swung around, eyebrows raised high as he said, “Did we not learn our lesson from the last jersey chaser?”

With a scowl pulling his entire face into a frown, Rowan shook his head. “It’s not like that. She doesn��t even know who I am. To be entirely honest, I don’t think she would have talked to me if I hadn’t saved her from one of Con’s mystery cocktails.”

At that, Lorcan winced. Just like he’d told Aelin, they were all too familiar with those special drinks. It didn’t matter how impressive one’s alcohol tolerance was, no one was safe. Rowan distinctly remembered a time several years back when he had to tie Lorcan’s black hair out of his face to avoid it getting in the toilet. Everyone was pretty sure he had alcohol poisoning that night, but it wasn’t totally Connall’s fault, either. Lorcan had said he could handle it. The joke was on him at the end of the night, though. Nobody could handle them as delicious as they might be. Those fuckers were dangerous.

“Met her at the pub then?” Lorcan’s eyes were full of hesitancy and skepticism as he spoke. It seemed like he was choosing his words carefully. That topic was a tedious tightrope to walk, one that had ended in Rowan shutting down completely more than once.

“She gave me a lot of shit about ‘soccer.’ We talked through most of the Orynth and Red Desert game.”

“And then Rowan took her upstairs and–” A sweaty pair of shorts hit Fenrys directly in the face, cutting him off with a violent gag. Always the drama king. “I just showered.”

“That’s enough out of you, boyo,” Rowan said in a tone that meant shut up or it will be my fist next time. A few of their other teammates filtered from the showers, several of them claiming they needed full body massages STAT. Rowan was inclined to agree, but he had better things to do tonight. They had won their match against Adarlan and he was feeling lucky all around.

“You’re not… worried?” Lorcan was pulling on a fresh pair of socks as Rowan sat on the bench beside him, jaw tight. This was not something he wanted to think about right now. Aelin gave no indications that she knew who he was, and most of the girls that fawned after them for being professional athletes couldn’t make it through a whole conversation without expressing what huge fans they were. As if their obsession with his body would make him more likely to sleep with them. It was a trick that worked when he was young and stupid, but now that he was older it was just… violating.

No, he wasn’t skeptical. It had been two weeks and soccer had only come up in the form of jokes between conversations that ranged from casual to toeing the deep-and-personal line. Their texts were as constant through the day as they could be with them both working. At night when they were both available and Rowan wasn’t completely wiped out from practice, they would have hours-long phone calls. Last night Aelin had fallen asleep mid-sentence, like she couldn’t stand to say goodnight to him even though she needed to sleep. When he realized she had dozed off, nothing but the soft huffs of her breathing coming through his speaker, he’d quietly wished sweet dreams upon her before hanging up.

Her apologies had been profuse throughout the day, but they weren’t needed. It had been a long while since anyone had taken the time to get to know him for him and not one of the world’s best center-forwards. With her, he was just Rowan. No grass-stained jerseys and golden trophies attached. Just the version of himself that he was over ninety percent of the time.

“I’m not worried about that with her. She’s not… like that. I’m going to tell her what I do soon, but for now she thinks I coach at the high school.” It wasn’t a complete lie. He and Lorcan did put on football camps at their old high school in Doranelle over the summer. Tirelessly, they would host two separate camps that lasted for two weeks in June and July. It was part of his job… just not his actual job right this second.

“What does she do?” Fenrys asked, shooting Rowan’s dirty shorts back over to him. He dropped them into his bag and zipped it up, slipping his feet into his slides. Vaughan came out of the showers then, bumping his fist as he passed and muttering that Rowan played well, to which he gave his friend a nod in return.

“Charity work. She teaches piano and dance class at different art programs. For the next few months she’s doing after school lessons in Varese.” Rowan hefted the duffel up onto his shoulder, wincing as he stood. Nothing was hurt, but he wasn’t quite as young as he used to be. While he should probably spend some time in an ice bath to help his muscles recover, it was honestly the last thing on his mind. All he could think about was getting in his car and speeding down the highway to Varese.

“Please tell me you’re not about to get in your car and drive two hours to see a girl you just met immediately after a game,” Lorcan said flatly. Try as he might, it was impossible not to grin. Just a little.

“Hate to disappoint you. Maybe you’ll understand one day when you stop being such a coldhearted dick.” It was a joke, but there was some truth to it. Lorcan had a strict policy about women during game season, and kind of in general. There would be absolutely no distractions for him during the season. He might let off some steam and have random hookups here and there, but the possibility of any sort of real relationship was off the table. During the off-season, he claimed it was time to have fun. Everyone was thoroughly convinced he would never settle down, or that it would take an absolute badass of a woman to turn him into a house-broken man. Rowan wasn’t sure that was possible.

Lorcan grumbled mostly to himself while the rest of their lingering teammates gave Rowan encouraging slaps on the back. While he hated that it was out to his teammates and friends already, he knew it was genuine support. A few years ago he had been through absolute hell and ever since there had been a stormy cloud hovering over his head because of it. Rowan knew Lorcan came from a good place. Everything with Lyria had ended… extremely poorly. Things with Aelin wouldn’t be like that, though. This was different. She was different.

It had been two and a half weeks since the first night, and their budding relationship had been strictly through text messages, phone calls, and the occasional video chat. Rowan hadn’t been able to get back to Varese because of practice, games, and her work schedule. The one night he would have been able to make it into the city, she had called him an hour before he was due to head out and explained that something came up at work that she had to deal with. It had been disappointing, but he understood. If they had lost their game today he wasn’t so sure he would be driving anywhere but home to sulk.

With a shiny new win under his belt, he was eager as he snapped his seatbelt into place and began the two hour drive up to Verese. It would be after ten by the time he finally got there, but Aelin had insisted– was still assuring him– that it was entirely okay. Evidently she would have dinner ready for them when he arrived. His growling stomach could hardly wait.

~*~

Rowan’s muscles throbbed dully when he pulled himself from his car a couple hours later. Thankfully he would have the rest of the night and all day tomorrow to recover before practice. He made a mental note to head in early for a little physical therapy on Monday morning.

The plan was that they would hang out for a little while before Rowan headed to his apartment in the city. While he lived primarily in Doranelle, he liked that he could be a little more low-key in Varese most of the time. It had become his second home, and a few years ago it made sense to get an apartment nearby to avoid having to crash in Connall or Fenrys’s guest room every time he was in town. Tomorrow, Rowan had vowed to show Aelin his favorite spots downtown and a few that he just had an inkling she would like.

Based on their conversations, Aelin had quite the sweet tooth. There was a bakery on 4th avenue that was more than capable of satisfying her cravings. Less than a five minute walk from her office was his favorite coffee shop, and the heart of the city was stuffed to the brim of delicious restaurants and alluring confectionary shops she would love. The weather tomorrow would be absolutely beautiful– the perfect day to stroll downtown before the beginning of another hectic week for Rowan. For her, too, it seemed because she had days where she felt like she was putting out little fires everywhere.

Double checking the apartment floor and number Aelin had sent over earlier that afternoon, Rowan began his climb up the stairs. It was an older building with the elevator apparently in a constant out-of-order state since she had moved in. She had both complained and apologized about it in advance, but Rowan was used to running up and down the stands during practice that it didn’t really matter.

Despite being a century old, the building had character and hadn’t slipped from its former glory. The floors were black and white marble, the wood of the staircase a deep mahogany. Gold accents were littered throughout in vases, frames, and wall sconces. Just inside the front door a glittering chandelier reflected small rainbows along the walls and floor through the crystals that dangled from its arms. Even if Rowan hadn’t known its historic significance, it was easy to imagine how it looked just after it opened. It was still a luxury apartment building, regardless of age.

His thighs ached with the ascent, feeling every stride he had taken on the field a few hours ago. Thankfully he only had to get to the second floor and a few doors down according to Aelin. Gods, he was exhausted. There was little time in a match when Rowan wasn’t on the field and throwing his all into every step he took, every kick that sent the ball flying into the goal with ease. After most games he would soak in an ice bath or get stretched out by one of the trainers, but he’d been entirely too eager to get to Varese to waste any time. Tomorrow he might regret it a little, but he would have regretted not making the drive even more.

It wasn’t until he was standing in front of her door that he started to have a small, momentary bout of panic. How was he supposed to greet her? Did he hug her? Kiss her? They hadn’t discussed it, but then again who plans out a greeting? Rowan wanted to bang his head against the door at the knots this woman twisted his stomach into. He was being ridiculous. Rowan Whitethorn was a thirty-one year old grown man, for wyrd’s sake. Surely he could handle not fucking up as soon as she opened the door.

As it turned out, he didn’t need to worry. Seconds after knocking, Aelin opened the door and pulled him inside by his fingers, rocking up on her toes and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as soon as the door was closed before saying, “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replied, letting her pull him deeper into the apartment.

Rowan had seen the space in the background of their video chats, but it became abundantly clear that Aelin had a taste for opulence. Various pieces of art were framed all over the walls, fresh flowers rested on the table tops. Several jewel-toned rugs lay upon the restored wooden floors and her couch was deep green made of plush velvet. The dining and end tables were golden and topped with marble. Even the blankets over the back of the couch were fluffy fabrics that no doubt felt like being covered with a cloud.

A handful of boxes were still stacked in the corner of the living room, easily visible because of the open floor plan the space offered. To the left, the kitchen boasted marble countertops with golden hardware. Yes, this apartment building was still very much in its golden age, or maybe Aelin was just that skilled with decorating.

Rowan’s was a modern apartment building closer to the business district, but this one honestly blew it out of the water. In the short time she had been there, only a few weeks she had told him, Aelin had managed to make this into a home. It felt lived in and loved, like she had always been here. Despite being able to smell the slightly-musty age of the building, it was buried under layers of jasmine, lemon verbena, and the dinner she had simmering on the stove.

“Ignore the boxes, I’m still waiting for some shelving to come in for my books and things,” she explained with the wave of her hand. As if the stack of boxes could ever take away from the magical oasis she had transformed the apartment into. Compared to this, the house in Doranelle that he had lived in for the last six years was bare and nowhere near a home.

“Are you sure you’ve only been staying here for a few weeks?” Aelin’s laughter was bright as she walked into the kitchen and began mixing the contents of a large pan with a wooden spoon. Aelin’s legs were bare, seemingly nothing beneath the t-shirt that hung to the tops of her thighs.

“I’m a creature of luxury. Besides, I’ll be splitting my time between here and Orynth with work.” It was admirable how much she seemed to love the kids she taught, how passionate she was about her work. Piano and dance lessons couldn’t afford an apartment like this, though. Not when she so proudly supported underprivileged areas of major cities. Rowan was sure her parents had the money to help her out, not that it mattered. That was a conversation for another day, especially when she started plating their dinner. “I hope you like pasta.”

“Are there people that don’t?” He asked, taking both plates from her. Aelin walked past him with a bottle of wine and two glasses, heading for the couch instead of the table.

“It should be a felony, but I’m sure some bizarre creature or a human exists out there, hating pasta with every fiber of their being.” Rowan snorted in response, handing her the plates after she sat down and folded her legs like a pretzel in front of her. The tiniest pair of shorts that he’d ever seen peaked out from beneath the hem of her shirt.

Sitting beside her and taking his plate, he had to fight back a groan when he took the first bite. Aside from his mother, he couldn’t remember the last time someone cooked for him that didn’t involve a waitress as a go-between. It was nice to feel cared for, he realized. Even if they both knew tonight would end in her bed.

A documentary played while they ate, conversation ebbing and flowing with ease throughout. He managed to get her talking a little more about work, how a coworker named Luca was having a hard time with confidence in what he produced but he didn’t need to be. According to Aelin, he was a brilliant young graphic designer and she hoped that with some nurturing under her wing, he would bloom to his full potential.

When he asked about siblings, she shrugged, “I have a cousin that’s really more like my brother. We’ve been inseparable since the day I was born. Besides him, I’m an only child.”

“So am I, but I have a hoard of cousins. I’m closest to Sellene and Endymion. Sellene would like you.”

“What’s not to like?” She teased, eyes full of mirth as she looked at him over the top of her wine glass. The heat in her eyes gave him a vivid memory of what she had looked like writhing beneath him.

Gods above, he needed to get a grip.

Aelin listened intently while he talked about his mom and dad, Sellene and Endymion. Her laugh was like a tinkling bell when he recounted memories from his childhood and chimed in with her own. Both of them may have been only children, but agreed they’d never felt lonely or alone for the most part.

“There was a period when my cousin went off to college—” she paused for another sip of wine and to place her empty bowl on the coffee table. Rowan did the same. “That was the only time I felt lonely. He’s four years older than me, so it was hard to go through my entire high school experience with him not quite as close. He actually went to college in Doranelle and could only really come home for holidays. He surprised me for my 16th birthday and it was the best one I’ve ever had.”

There was a small smile on her lips before she continued, “My parents had a limo for me and my friends to ride to the venue it was at, and I got in the car and the partition was lowered. The driver was wearing a hat and aviators, straight out of a movie. And then he said I hear we have a birthday girl in our midst and I knew it was him. I completely lost it. Best present ever.” Rowan found himself grinning along with her, her joy at the memory contagious to his core.

“You’re lucky you didn’t have cousins that terrorized you until you were big enough to fight back.” That had been the general tone of his upbringing, but once he went through puberty and grew well over six feet tall, the teasing had calmed down a bit. Probably because Rowan could easily throw Enda over his shoulder by the point.

“Oh, gods. Believe me, we have been through it. There were times when he was annoyed that I wanted to do everything he did, and times when I was annoyed that he tried to embarrass me in front of my friends or boys that I liked. He used to sit on me and tickle me until I cried and we were constantly trying to flick each other until we were bruised like peaches. Typical sibling stuff.”

Rowan laughed, nodding as he recalled having very similar memories with Enda specifically. He could relate to the ones based in annoyance— Sellene had been a hellion.

“Sellene used to embarrass me in front of pretty girls, too. Not that I needed help in that department. I do fine enough on my own to this day, but seventeen year old Rowan didn’t know how to talk to women at all.”

“You’ve done alright with me.” Aelin’s small hand reached for his, lacing their fingers like she had done it a million times. Her nose wrinkled as she grinned, and he had to fight the urge to kiss her. Godsdamn, this woman.

“I wouldn’t be so lucky if we were in high school.” At that, she laughed, making a teasing quip about his rushed voicemail and stilted text message. At the end, she reassured him it was charming and that he wouldn’t be here if she didn’t think so.

“Some people struggle digitally. I won’t hold it to you, old man.” Rowan flicked her knee at the moniker, but couldn’t repress the smile on his lips all the same.

~*~

“Rowan,” Aelin said softly, rubbing her eyes and sitting up on the couch. The man behind her released a low groan as his arm tried to pull her back down.

After talking for what must have been hours, they settled on watching New Girl and had, apparently, fallen asleep not too long after it started. A wide yawn escaped her as she patted his thigh a few times to rouse him awake.

“Shit, what time is it?” Rowan forced himself to sit up behind her, knocking his elbow into her shoulder in the process. Instead of cowering in pain, she started to giggle through the sleepy fog. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it didn’t hurt,” she promised, tapping the screen of her phone. “It’s almost five.”

“I can go. I didn’t mean to fall—”

“I’m not waking you up to kick you out. I’m waking you up to come to bed with me.” Aelin stood, holding out her hand. Once she had both of his hands in hers she began to tug, taking steps backward while he pretended to protest by going nearly entirely limp against the couch. “You can sleep by yourself out here, it’s fine.”

Dropping both of his hands she turned and made her way toward her bedroom. Aelin had only made it a handful of feet away before strong arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Rowan pressed soft kisses against her neck at the same time he lifted her entirely off the floor. Stomach flipping, she squealed while he padded toward her bedroom, finally placing her down on the bed.

She was quick to crawl under the blankets, flipping them back so he could get in with her. He followed dutifully, slinging his shirt off and tossing it onto a little chair in the corner of her room as he sank down until his head rested against the pillow.

Despite how easy it would be for either of them to roll onto the other and make the other unravel at the seams, she gently pecked his lips a few times. Each one lingered a little more than the last until she finally pulled away and rested her head against his chest. With his hand rubbing soothing lines up and down her back, it was easy to melt into him, eyes drifting shut as she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep that smelled like home. @elentiyawhitethornorn @autumnbabylonylon @fancysludgeshoelampelamp @wordsafterhours @live-the-fangirl-lifee @the-hospitality-of-knivesf-knives @tangledraysofsunshine @readandlisten @westofmoon @rowanaelinn @morganofthewildfire @writtenonreceipts @feynightlight @emster1622-blog @scarblx @secondstartorightand @thefaetrove @loveyatopluto @actuallybarb @peppermint-fae @the-devils-own @scottmcgivemeacall @livingmylifeforme @wordsafterhours @foreverfallingforthestars @llyncooljones @emily-gsh @loosesimplicity @emilyrose111294 @charlizeed @aelinchocolatelover @cretaceous-therapod @sayosdreams @fireheart-violet @the-regal-warrior

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enam3l · 2 years

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Your writing skills are pure gold. I literally ate your rockstar Eddie posts.

Maybe the next step could be the tour and y/n accompanying Eddie as much as she can. Both living the tour life? And how about a spontaneous wedding when they have a show in Las Vegas? Nothing is more rockstar than a wedding in Las Vegas!

thank you so much!! so Eddie and y/n don't get married until 94 and that fic is coming - don't you worry. but your wish is my command! this is a bonus fic. a huge thank you for 500+ followers. thank you for enjoying everything and being a part of this story.

half the world away (rockstar eddie munson x reader) 4k / fluff / smut / slight angst

a direct follow up to rockstar eddie munson is gonna get the girl and god help anyone who stops him you can see all rockstar eddie x reader stories and lore at #enam3ls rockstar eddie or the masterlist!

Corroded Coffin’s first nationwide tour for their debut album started in New York with a full house. It started the precedent that Corroded Coffin were the must see band of 1989, it's also where you and Eddie parted ways. Much to Eddie’s despair, your work whilst flexible, couldn't allow you to chase your boyfriend round the country in a tour bus. Between weeping tears and desperate kisses, you said goodbye before Eddie got onto the bus, departing New York to complete the East Coast leg of the tour – leaving you behind. For a month you would be apart, only rejoining him in October for the West Coast dates. It was the longest you'd ever been apart since meeting earlier that year in February. Since confessing you were in love with each other over the summer, you could admit your heart ached without him, like part of your soul left on the tour bus with him. Ultimately you were pleased and proud, despite the boys insistence it was okay, you knew this was their first tour and they needed to experience it just the four of them without you crashing. Gareth had pinky promised to look after him and he had.

Before every gig, no matter the time zone, Eddie would call and you'd run through a pre-show ritual you'd developed over the weeks. Before you could ask anything, Eddie would insist on knowing every detail he was missing; what happened at work that day, what you ate and how you slept. As if he wasn't the one living the adventure. Then in return he’d recap the night before, how their journey had been, what his review of this city was and what the guys plans for the set were. Tonight’s show was Texas before the band took a week break in California then making their way through the west coast, curving over the top of the country and ending up in Indiana again. You were supposed to meet Eddie in California in a weeks time but some sweet talking to your boss found you on the plane from New York to Austin, Texas. The past month you'd been meeting deadlines early in hopes you could persuade your work to let you finish early and using the California offices before following Eddie on the last leg of the tour. In the months you'd been together you'd discovered one thing; Eddie would do anything for you and loved surprising you. Whether it be as simple as keeping your favourite snacks stocked to cancelling his whole schedule to nurse you when you had tonsillitis to surprising you with your favourite flowers. For once, you wanted to be the one surprising. It had been hard to keep your lips sealed as you heard the broken turn in his voice over the phone when he confessed how much he missed you. It was nearly impossible during last nights phone call when he said he’d call you tomorrow, to not burst into giggles and say he wouldn't need to call.

Eddie was pacing anxiously as he dialled your number for the fifth time only to again be met with torturous rings. He was cursing himself for not having another way of contacting you, for never getting your work or neighbours number incase of emergency. He felt sick, he had heard your voice twice a day for the last thirty-two days, it's what kept him calm everytime he realised he was on tour and all these people were paying to see him. Your soothing voice was the only thing that helped him feel grounded. He was frantic now, rambling round backstage begging anyone to point him in the direction of another phone incase the one he'd been using was faulty. On his third phone he decided this wasn't technical errors - you weren't there. Eddie stared at the phone as the dead line hummed, the jarring noice only adding to his nausea. His mind raced with possibilities, none of them he liked.

Were you okay? Had there been an accident? Did you forget? Were you angry at him?

Eddie hadn't been pushy with the calls, every night he reassured you it was okay if you had plans and couldn't make the call but so far you had everytime without fail. Even when you'd been out you'd found a phone behind the bar, easily charming any staff into letting you use it to call your long distance sweetheart.

The rest of Corroded Coffin watched anxiously at Eddie’s panicked ranting. They knew exactly why you weren't answering but they'd been sworn to secrecy and didn't want to ruin a surprise that he'd be grateful for in two hours time. Once it was show time Eddie felt awful knowing these fans had used their hard earned money to see him, he'd been there before, saving every penny to see his idols. But instead he could barely hear the music or the audience cheers, all he could picture was you hurt: hit by a taxi, fallen down the stairs, mugged, murdered, somewhere alone and in trouble when he should be there to protect you. There was also another horrifying possibility that nagged at Eddie, despite knowing you'd never believe anything, he couldn't help but fret Carla or someone like her had fed you something to make you angry at him. Eddie is grateful the set list had stayed the same, drilled into him so much that playing was instinctual and any mistakes were hidden by the other guys who could see him chewing his lip out the corner of their eyes. By the time the gig has finished, he's running off stage. Shouting a ‘Sorry man!’ at the roadie he just hurled his guitar at. Gareth is quick on his heels, not wanting him to go awol and miss the surprise. Luckily Eddie is back at the phone, rapidly punching in your number before chewing his nails as he's met again with taunting rings. Gareth carefully approaches, careful not to spook his friend.

‘Hey bro… I'm sure there's a totally reasonable explanation. Why don't we head back to the bus?’ He attempts to carefully guide Eddie towards the exit but he digs his heavy boots into the ground.

‘No Gareth! You don't understand! Something is wrong, I know it. I gotta keep trying!’

Gareth sighs, attempting a new tactic.

‘Well if you get on the bus, you can get to the hotel where you can dial to your hearts content from the room. Right?’

Eddie nods his head letting his now red nails find his mouth again as he allows Gareth to tug him along. The rambling continues all the way to the bus door and Gareth is thankful you're not actually in trouble because he's not sure he could cope listening to the improbable situations falling out of Eddie’s mouth such as ‘rats are getting really fucking big in New York now man. What if one got her? What if it came up the fire escape?’

They're in the living area of the bus when Eddie tries to double back and return to the venue,

‘Fuck!’ He whelps, 'shit, I should've called Marissa. Got her to go round and check on y/n. Fuck I gotta go call now!’

Gareth swoops round to barricade the door, attempting to block the exit of his friend who towers over him.

‘Good god man!’ Gareth cries, ‘just go check you've got all your stuff in the room and then we’ll get you to the hotel. There you can call Marissa, the mayor, fuck me, we can even call President Bush and see if he can track her down.

Eddie groans, scowling at Gareth as he opens the door to the bedroom area. He's puzzled to see a smirk spread over Gareth's face before leaving the bus completely. Brow furrowed, Eddie turns to face into the bedroom and his hand drops from the handle.

There you are, perfect and in one piece, just as Eddie left you in New York. Your sat on his bunk wearing a new Corroded Coffin t-shirt from the tour and somehow looking more ethereal than ever. Eddie bounds over to you, the force of his steps and the leap onto the bed causing the bus to shake. You're in fits at giggles over his eagerness, Eddie’s face immediately burying his face into the crook of your neck. He's completely flattened you with his chest whilst he straddles you and you can feel wetness on your neck. Eddie looks up at you his hands grasping either side of your head, stroking back your hair and you can see tears escaping his big brown eyes.

'You're here…’ he barely whispers.

You smile at your sweet boy, your hands now brushing back his curls and fringe so you can take in the face you missed so much.

‘Yeah, Eds. I’m here baby.’

Slowly the shock and overwhelming emotion leaves his face, replaced by his most smitten grin. He dives back into your neck, smothering all exposed skin in kisses between his confessions.

‘I…missed…you…so…much…sweetheart…I can't… believe…you're really…here!’ His kisses and curls tickle you.

‘I missed you too baby. I never even went back to my apartment. Just stayed in yours, needed to be surrounded by all your Eddie-ness.’

He's beaming at your sentimentalism until he remembers the panic he was in just minutes ago. Eddie’s face turns into a childish sulk and he begins to bat at you gently for worrying him.

‘Hey!’ You gasp, ‘what the hells that about!’

‘You scared me! I was so worried! Missed our call! I thought something happened to you’ Eddie moans and you can tell by the look in his eyes how genuinely worried he was. You pull him down to your chest and press kisses to his head.

‘Oh, Eds… I'm so sorry. I didn't think. But I'm here now, yeah? We’re back together now. I needed to see you, couldn't wait any longer.’

Eddie peaks up at you and nods and whispers, 'thank you baby, the best surprise I ever got,’ a dark look comes over his eyes and a smirk appears, ‘wish you'd worn nothing but a bow though.’

Later when you arrive at the hotel, Eddie is dragging you to the room. The second you're through the door he's throwing your bags down, manhandling you and throwing you on the bed before crawling on top of you. Your hands roam his body, desperate to reacquaint how he feels under your touch. Eddie’s eyes are closed in complete bliss as you lean up to kiss him. Instantly your lips melt together, craving to taste each other again. You're both desperate as your tongues meet, eager to get as close as possible. You bite Eddie’s lip as you pull yourself apart to catch your breath.

‘God, I love you,’ he pants.

'I love you too Eds.’

For a while you just look at each other, taking in every little detail of the other that you've missed as hands trail over bodies.

'Shall we get into bed?’ you sigh contentedly. Eddie nods.

Eddie’s breath hitches as you appear from the bathroom wearing nothing but a smile.

‘No pjs sweetheart?’

You shake your head. 'Don't think they'd be staying on long,’ you purr.

A groan leaves Eddie’s throat and his hands grab for you.

‘Get. Here. Now.’

There's no need for him to persuade you, you're skipping over and straddling him immediately. Every part of you has ached for every part of him for over a month. His lips at immediately on your chest, dotting kisses over your breasts and his fingers run over the curves of your body. You sigh blissfully, feeling relaxed finally now your skin is touching.

‘Need you Eddie.’

He murmurs in agreement, feeling the growing wetness from your folds through the thin fabric of his boxers. In return you can feel his aching hardness.

‘Going to fuck your girl good, baby? Like I'm your favourite groupie?’ You chuckle.

Eddie looks up and the look in his eye makes your heart stop, he looks serious but his chocolate eyes full of so much adoration.

‘No sweetheart. I'm going to make love to you, make you feel how much I've needed you with me this whole time.’

A gasp escapes your lips as he carefully flips you over so you're lying down and he hovers above. Lips reuniting in a deep passionate kiss, inhaling the other. Your fingers pull at his waistband and Eddie sighs as his throbbing cock is freed and you sigh at the sensation of your bodies completely bare against each other. Without realising, you're pushing your hips up to feel his length against you, both of you mewling at the friction.

Foreheads pressed against each other as you both whimper as you grind against each other. Wetness covering Eddie’s length as he slides between your folds, catching your clit as he makes each movement.

‘Need-need you inside Ed’ you pant. Eddie tries to compose himself so he can form words.

‘Not… not yet sweetheart. I just - I really need to taste my girl, okay? It's been so long.’

You can only nod as he litters kisses down your sternum, between your breasts, your stomach where he licks a stripe down to your belly button and then continues his kisses until he reaches your mound. Eddie doesn't care, he can't resist burying his nose into your triangle of curls. Inhaling your most natural smell, it's soothing, it's like home. It makes you giggle slightly, endeared at how blissed his face is. Your giggle is stifled as your mouth turns into an ‘O’ as Eddie quickly buries his mouth this time into your folds. His wide tongue lapping you with one broad swipe, his face blissed at the taste of you. Then his mouth finds your clit, suckling it causing your head to fall back against the pillows. The sensation alone nearly unravelling a months worth of pent up sexual frustration. Eddie brings his thumb to replace his lips over your bud as he watches the way your hands seek out your breast, pinching your nipples. He sees how hard you're trying to keep your head up so you can look at him. But regardless of how overwhelming the pleasure is, it's hard to look at Eddie when he's like this, his big eyes dark and sparkling with primal lust and love. Your mouth is agape and your eyelids fluttering as he continues to rub your clit whilst fingers circle your entrance.

'You're so beautiful like this,’ he croons, 'I can't believe somehow I make you feel like this.’

Your hand reaches to caress his face, you're sure he's the most beautiful man you've ever seen.

‘Eddie… no one has ever made me feel like this. No one ever will. My pretty boy.’

The nickname makes him moan and reattach his lips to your clit as he slides a finger inside you. You can see how he's started to rut against the bed and you're longing to make him feel good too. Struggling to speak you manage to whimper out

‘I-I need you… inside b-but it's been a month. Need you to warm me up.’

Eddie freezes and looks up at you, his pupils now fully dilated.

‘A month? Sweetheart… have you not touched yourself since I left?’

You bite your lip, a little embarrassed as you shake your head.

‘No. Wanted to wait for you… it's not the same now I know how it feels with you.’

Eddie isn't sure whether to cum right then and there or cry over how much you need him so he settles with making his girl feel amazing. He slides another finger inside, scissoring them to ready you for his thick cock.

‘Fuck, baby. I don't know what I ever did to get you.’

He fastens his fingers inside you as he returns to sucking your clit. Once he feels your fingertips begin to dig into his scalp and hears how loud your pussy is getting for him, then he knows you're ready.

Eddie comes back up, arms propping him above you. Your mouths meet and you can taste yourself on his tongue, it only makes you more desperate to feel him inside you. You're longing for the closeness and reuniting of your bodies that can only come with feeling his cock within you.

‘Please, please, I need you inside me,’ you beg now.

Eddie spreads your legs further and guides his cock to your entrance. Both of you watch where you finally merge as one. Both moaning at the euphoria of your bodies finally joining again. You cradle each other's faces as he begins to thrust into you, tantalisingly slow. You look at each other adoringly, eyes filled with so much love.

'Nothing compares to you sweetheart,’ Eddie pants.

Eddie takes your thighs, draping them over his shoulders. The new position allows Eddie to bury deep inside you. The feeling is overwhelming filling and you love it, knowing you're physically unable to get closer to him. His movements remain luxuriously drawn out, his tip dragging past your sweet spot each time. You're only left with the ability to mewl, mouth agape. He begins to fasten feeling the way your walls clench him, making his balls clench in return. You reach out to pull him forward, giving you access to kiss and suck his pulse point in his neck causing him to keen your name. But your movement some how manages to bring him even deeper inside you and it makes your body freeze in shock and pleasure.

‘Oh god, Eds… I need you to cum there. Deep. Inside’ you gasp.

His pace fastens but remains as hard, ensuring he completely fills you.'Christ yeah okay baby, god I can feel how full of me you are… look at your belly.’

And he's right, as Eddie hits the deepest he can, your belly bulges with his cock and it makes you whine knowing he's completely taken over your body and heart. The pair of you struggle to look away, only doing so because Eddie's quickening pace has your head falling back.

‘I don't think I can last much longer sweet boy, it's too good,’ you're practically whining.

‘Me neither baby, missed fucking you so much.’

Eddie brings his hand now to rub at your clit and your stomach tightens instantly, your thighs clenching his neck. The noises you make are pornographic and drive Eddie wilder, near folding you in half so he can steal away the noises with a kiss. You make your walls pulse around him to edge him further and it leaves you mouth moaning into each other's open mouths.

'I'm gonna cum Ed,’ you cry, ‘I love you so fucking much.’

He grunts, ‘fuck. Sweetheart say it again please.’

He's thrusting now deep and sloppily, his thumb pressing fast circles into your swollen clit.

‘I love you I love you Eddie,’ you wail as your climax hits you harder than ever before. Your legs spasm round his neck and your fingers tighten round his biceps.

'Jesus fuck I love you too y/n,’ he gasps as he says your name, his cum spurting deep inside you. He shudders and another rope fills your walls.

Eddie collapses on top of you, exhausted after finally spending the cum he'd also been saving for you. You both pant as you brush away his fringe from his eyes. Both of your eyes and drooping, completely fucked out. After a while, he attempts to move but you stop him. He quirks an eyebrow at you.

‘I… I need you to stay inside me. I've missed you so much… just need to stay close.’ Eddie’s heart melts at your need for him, he tucks your wild hair behind your ear before pressing a delicate kiss to the tip of your nose.

'Of course. Anything for you, sweetheart.’

Carefully, he rolls you both over so you're on your sides. One of your legs hooked around his waist, allowing him to stay inside you. Both of your eyes begin to close and his cock softens inside you. Relaxed for the first time in a month now you're reunited, you both fall asleep, bodies intwined.

Everyone can't help but notice how the tour improves drastically with your presence. Eddie has never played better in his life knowing you're metres away, eyes full of awe and pride at your boyfriends talent. The way you fit perfectly into his life like this only adds to the lingering feeling you're meant to spend your lives together. Every night watches how you chatter with the roadies, always offering help, how you make sure the band has always eaten and are feeling good, how you point out shy fans to Eddie and how you love being immersed in the after parties. No bitterness resides you after the Carla situation, the usual girls who follow their shows respect you and apologies for her behaviour. Eddie’s heart melts at the sight of you tipsy and mouthing along to his songs. Then at parties how you fawn over him chatting every bartender and security guards ear off about how the guitarist is your man. That along with the t-shirt you'd shamelessly produced that read ‘PROPERTY OF THE LEAD GUITARIST’, Eddie has never felt so supported, so loved in all his life.

The tour bus had been upgraded with a mattress on the floor for Eddie. He insisted on taking it whilst you took the bottom bunk it was placed alongside. Both your lip reading skills developed rapidly so you could continue to talk to each other long into the night without disturbing the other guys. Unable to fall asleep in each other's arms like you'd both prefer, you found yourselves drifting off; your hand dangling over the edge of the bed so Eddie could hold it all night. More often than not you woke up fingers still intertwined unless Eddie had sneakily pulled you out of your bed overnight so he could feel your full weight on top of him. The guys were deeply grateful for not having sex in the bus so it resulted in you and Eddie getting creative with locations for the few weeks you were on tour. Bathrooms and dressing rooms across the country were marked by you both. Praying the pulsating speakers covered the noises of your moans and Eddie’s balls slapping against you as he bent you over sinks and sofas or propped you up against bathroom stall walls. Eddie insisted he played better knowing his cum was dripping out of you backstage or that you were struggling to stand, legs still trembling after having his face buried in your core.

The final show was in Indiana and butterflies filled you both, knowing the last time he played here is when he met you. It was the most meaningful show of the tour. Neither of you needing to say a word as your hands gripped thinking about it. You went into the crowd to meet the whole gang who'd travelled into the city for the gig. Eddie played like a man possessed, his eyes unable to part from yours the whole time as you stood with everyone he loved most at the barriers in front of the stage. Seven months ago he was performing here in Indiana, not knowing the person he'd spend the rest of his life with was there and now you're stood in front of him, beaming and bopping around. Eddie wonders if this is heaven, convinced this is the greatest sight in the world, watching you carefree and excited just from watching him do what he loves. He watches your face turn to confusion as during the encore he starts with some unfamiliar notes. It's a new song, your song. Eddie wrote it whilst longing for your presence on the first half of the tour. Tears well as you realise this song is describing you. Steve, Dustin and Robin grin seeing the love between the pair of you, thrilled their meddling resulted in their friend getting the love he deserves. As Eddie reaches his solo you mouth 'I love you.’

Never taking his eyes off you, he mouths back 'I love you too, always.’

Eddie can't imagine playing music now without you by his side. The two things that saved him.

#enam3l asks #enam3ls rockstar eddie #rockstar eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson × fem!reader #eddie munson × reader #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #munson headcanons #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson x y/n #rockstar!eddie munson #enam3l x eddie #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x afab reader

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willow-lark · 1 year

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birthdaygate ficlet!!!

(shoutout to @andiwriteordie for inspiring this—go check out andi’s latest birthdaygate fic!)

Mike Wheeler doesn’t trust this new guy at all.

It’s always crowded in Hopper’s cabin when the entire gang decides to meet up there, but it becomes claustrophobic with the addition of this extra person. Mike sits across from him in the circle as Nancy addresses the group—though the information she gives is mostly for the benefit of the new guy—about her, Steve, and Jonathan’s latest mission to the Upside Down, which they just got back from.

It’s been a long and difficult two years since Vecna first split Hawkins into quarters and fully opened it up to the Upside Down. They’ve been fighting ever since, but though they know full well that Henry’s still alive, he always eludes El’s discovery, instead taunting them from the shadows as he plans his next attack.

Nancy, Steve, and Jonathan took a dangerous reconnaissance mission into the Upside-Down over night and returned an hour before dawn, immediately calling everyone together instead of waiting for their planned meetup at eight-thirty, which is why Mike is sitting here stifling a yawn instead of being asleep in bed.

It’s this kid’s fault.

Because not only did the three of them return with the information they set out to gain—a success, to be granted—they also came back with someone new.

This kid looks to be about the Party’s age, but he’s gaunt and pallid, with dark circles under his eyes. Mike’s never seen green eyes look so dull before. The kid keeps twitching as he glances around at everyone, like some kind of cornered rabbit. Maybe like Bambi. Earlier, Joyce Byers passed him a blanket, which he keeps drawn tight around his bony shoulders, clutching onto it with trembling fingers.

“How long were you in there?” Nancy asks the boy.

“A long time,” he tells her in a scratchy tone of voice. “What date is it?”

“November sixth, 1988.”

Nancy’s response seems to amuse him slightly—the corner of his mouth turning up for a split-second in an expression that Mike usually sees Jonathan wear—but his voice is sullen as ever. “Oh,” the kid says, and then amends himself, “almost two and a half years.”

“Did you ever see anyone else when you were in there?” asks Joyce, and the kid’s eyes dart to her.

Nancy is standing, and she paces a little back and forth. “I can’t believe we didn’t realize there were survivors who fell through the gates when they first opened!”

“No,” the boy answers Joyce. “It was just me. And—”

“Henry. One,” El fills in, and the two of them have the same kind of wide, docile eyes. But Mike knows that El is anything but docile. She’s killed multiple people directly in front of him. The thing is, though, Mike knows that El is on his side. He doesn’t know that about this random kid.

“Yes. Him.”

After a little while longer of questioning, the boy asks if he can go to the bathroom, and once he disappears into the cabin’s small one, the rest of them all erupt into arguing.

“How do you know we can trust him?” Mike snaps immediately. “For all we know he could be working with Vecna! What if Vecna sent him as a spy?”

“Mike!” Nancy snaps back. “You don’t know that! When we bumped into him in the Upside Down he was running for his life. He’s just some kid who fell through the gate. Benefit of the doubt, much?”

“And survived for two and a half years? I bet you couldn’t last a week in there. You don’t think he had help?”

Nancy throws up her hands, and Jonathan joins in, a little more placatingly. “We’ve been at a dead end for months now, Mike. This kid is the only lead we have at this point. He could help us.”

The general consensus is in Nancy and Jonathan’s favor, even from the adults. Hopper raises an eye at him, and says he needs to be a little more reasonable. Whatever that means. They’ll all come crying back to him when it turns out he’s right, just wait and see.

Tomorrow it’ll be five years to the day that all of this started, when Mike and Dustin and Lucas found El in the woods and expanded their Party to four. It’s been so long now that Mike can’t really remember the reason they were out there in the first place, considering that there was a heavy storm. It was probably some kind of pre-teen rebellion among the three of them. Mike’s pretty sure he had actually gotten grounded earlier that evening. If rebellion was what they were looking for, they ended up getting involved in something way more insane. Though they couldn’t save Barb Holland, Nancy’s friend, El killed the monster that hunted her. And since then, things have only escalated.

And that’s without adding this strange new boy into the mix. Mike doesn’t trust easily, and he certainly doesn’t trust him.

Not even when the boy returns from the bathroom and Nancy finally remembers to ask him his name.

Not when the question seems to catch the boy off-guard, and Mike watches him gulp before he answers in a quiet voice, gaze flicking toward Mike and away again, “My name is Will.”

Not when his answer sends an odd jolt of déjà vu through Mike’s chest, like he’s five years old again making friends with the shy kid on the playground. For a moment, Mike wonders if he knows this kid.

Probably, if he’s a student at Hawkins High. They’ve probably made brief and accidental eye contact with each other walking down the hallway.

Will is a pretty common name.

/end scene! if u read all of this then thank you ☺️💕 i have SO MANY birthdaygate ideas but i feel like this would be a long au which i don’t have the capacity to write rn :/// however i DO have literally the whole thing planned out in my brain so if anyone wants to hear it just come send me an ask 👀

#byler #stranger things #will byers #mike wheeler #byler fanfiction #birthdaygate #lark’s fanfiction #idk if i should put this on ao3

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spoopydooblr · 1 year

Text

My King Will Be Kind Chapter 4 / Kendall Roy x OC

an: another chapter!! enjoy!!

tw: cursing

Stella expected Kendall to suggest that she go home, but he did the opposite. They laid on the bed, almost-naked and in each other's arms.

"You know you can uh, stay over." He said, and she swore he was being a little shy.

She had just met this guy, who she assumed was just a fun story to tell her friends, and now he's asking her to stay over?

"Are you being serious?" Stella sat up, suddenly feeling naked in his discarded Tom Ford shirt. She didn't know how else to respond to his question.

"Yeah I'm fucking serious."

"Tomorrow is like, Monday." She had a somewhat important meeting the next morning to talk scripts.

"Then we'll set an alarm." He said it like it was obvious.

The pictures of Kendall with supermodels and strippers flashed in her head. He was probably just being nice. What the fuck was he doing with someone like her?

"Look, Kendall--"

"I get it. But I'm not that guy anymore." He seemed to have read her mind. "I like you."

What the fuck?!

"You just met me." Stella knew she was famous, sure, she hit one million followers on Instagram last month. This life wasn't foreign to her. But the Roy's were different. They were the bosses of her boss's boss. "No offense, but like, what do you want from me?"

He laughed. "Nothing." Kendall started, his lips curving into a smile. "Well, I guess I'd love to fuck you again."

She had to laugh. "No, but, why me?"

"Because you're smart. And you're like, fuckin talented."

"Bit of fan behavior, ah Ken?"

"When I saw you at the club I knew I had to talk to you."

She blushed. "You could have anyone you wanted--"

"And you couldn't?" He was wrong, but she wasn't about to tell him the late nights she spent, longing for men who just wanted a quick fuck. Everyone in Hollywood was the same.

"You'd be surprised..."

"What man..." He pulled her down by the collar of his dress shirt she was wearing, flipping them over so he was on top. "Wouldn't want you?" he kissed the exposed skin on her neck. Stella ran her hand through his hair. His tongue danced along her collarbone.

"And you in my fucking shirt." He moved his hands underneath the hem. "What do you think, Stella girl?" His fingers brushed her nipples under the oversized garment. "You like me too?"

Fuck. Was she really about to do this?

It slipped out of her mouth before she could stop. "I mean, yeah."

"Good." He said, moving his mouth to hers. "Then stay."

She broke the kiss, looking into his hazel eyes. There was this Bassett Hound quality about them. "Okay."

Kendall woke up before her, tying his tie in the mirror as she opened her eyes. He was wearing a plain black designer suit with a perfect fit.

Stella immediately panicked, had she missed her alarm?

"Oh, shit. What time is it?"

"Five-thirty, you have another hour."

She breathed a sigh of relief, but questioned, "Why are you up, Ken?" It was suddenly cold next to her. "Come back to bed."

"I have this uh, stupid fucking meeting today with the sibs." He checked himself out in the mirror. "The pj leaves at 7."

"Oh, poor you, business meetings and pjs." Stella teased. She flew semi-private with the Delirium cast last year, but a regular private jet was different. He probably flew private every month. Maybe every week.

Kendall smirked, finishing with his tie. "Breakfast should be here soon. I had Jess order like, every kind of bagel, so hopefully that's something you're into."

Stella didn't know who Jess was or why she was on bagel duty, but she nodded. "Bagels sound delicious." It was a bit of a lie, as her breakfast usually consisted of an iced latte and a piece of gum, but after last night, she was famished.

"Good." He walked over to the bed and kissed her softly. "I had fun last night."

"Me too, Ken."

"Good. Because we're like, fucking, fuck Gods, I swear."

Stella stifled a laugh. He truly spoke in a manner that she had never heard before.

"When can I see you again? What's the schedule like for an up and coming genius writer like yourself?"

Here he was, calling her a genius without reading a single word of hers.

"Um, I'm not sure honestly. I have like, meetings and shit, but I can make time. I think you're probably a little busier than me, though."

"Fuck, you're right. Roman's like, been up my ass for this deal, and Shiv, God, she's like on some other level recently. And Con...fuck, he's getting married next week."

"Who?"

"Oh, my other brother, Connor. He's, uh," Kendall looked for the words. "He's running for president."

Stella immediately knew what he was talking about. She recalled the various twitter rants that Kendall's brother went on throughout his campaign. He wasn't quite neonazi level, but there was much to be desired in the intelligence department.

Lost in her thoughts, Stella didn't notice Kendall take out his phone and make a call.

"Jess, hey, what's the uh, eta on the bagels?" He paused. "Okay, great." Kendall looked up at Stella and mouthed 'latte?' She eagerly nodded. "And two lattes, regular milk, none of that liberal milk, okay? You're the best. Thanks."

"Liberal milk?"

"Like, you know, the oat and cashew shit, all that."

"You're insane."

Kendall grinned. "Speaking of my brother's wedding." He sat down next to her on the bed. "What would you say about being my date? Rava and the kids aren't going so you don't have to worry about that if it's an issue."

Uh oh. This is what she feared the most: a public outing with Kendall. Stella was sure there would be a million cameras there, capturing the most recent Roy wedding. She had a reputation to uphold, and being on Kendall Roy's arm was not a part of that. The kids and ex wife were the least of her worries.

"Kendall--"

"I know. You're a fuckin feminist icon. Roy-a-palooza isn't really good for the optics."

It was true, her fans depended on her to stay true to her beliefs. "Yeah."

"Just think about it, okay? I promise it'll be fun."

Stella nodded. She would definitely think about it. The thought of attending a public event with Kendall made her stomach turn, but not necessarily in the bad way she thought it would. Kendall wasn't attached to ATN like he used to be, and judging by last year's feminist rants on Twitter, he seemed to be turning to the 'liberal mob' that his family feared so much.

Before she could say anything else, her ears perked up as the front door of the apartment opened.

"Bagels." Kendall smiled and got up from the bed. As he reached the threshold he turned, "and I left some clothes out for you. If you don't mind wearing my sweats."

She definitely did not mind.

He left the room, closing the door behind him. It was small gestures like that in which he showed he cared, and Stella could feel it. She walked to the bathroom, pulling the Tom Ford shirt closer to her body.

On the bathroom counter were gray sweatpants and a worn, navy Harvard sweatshirt. She recalled from her online stalking that he graduated from Harvard Business School in the 90's. It was easy to feel his personality through everything he did. He could've left her naked or just in his shirt, but he didn't. The sweatshirt seemed to say 'you're mine now'.

Stella changed and tried her best to freshen up. Her makeup from the night before was smudged across her face, and she was definitely the poster child for sex hair. She walked out of the bathroom and looked for her purse, needing a hair tie, but realized it was in the kitchen. Sex hair it is.

"Hey." She said, turning the corner to the expansive, all-white kitchen.

"Hey." Kendall smiled at her, spreading cream cheese on a blueberry bagel. Interesting choice. "Latte." He said, handing her a plastic to-go cup filled with coffee and ice. She gladly took it.

"How did you know I wanted iced?"

"Because, uh, you're fuckin twenty-six."

"Offended. But, um, true." She blushed, sipping her coffee out of the plastic-free compostable straw.

"I'm sorry, but I really have to get going." He said, genuinely disappointed. "Fikret can come back to pick you up after he drops me at the airfield."

"Kendall." Stella said, a serious look on her face. "I'm not using your driver."

"I won't let you take the subway."

Stella scoffed. "I'm gonna do it just because you said that."

Kendall shakes his head. "Fine. Enjoy the rats." He stepped towards her, wrapping one arm around her waist and pulling her into him. "I'll miss you, Stell."

She bites her lip. "I'll see you soon, I promise."

He kissed her, soft and slow, like he's trying to savor the moment.

"Good luck." She grasped his hand one last time.

"Wait, so you go out without me ONE night and now you're fucking a billionaire?!" A female voice yelled from the other end of the phone. Stella was sitting on her tiny couch in her tiny apartment, trying to process the events that just happened to her. The minute she got home she called her best friend, Lauren. Lauren and Stella had been through it all together, first meeting three years ago on the set of Delirium.

"Yeah, I guess?" She said.

"I can't believe it. He's the literal L to the OG guy."

"I know. I almost asked for a private concert."

Lauren started singing the song, and Stella followed. "A N he playin..."

"Playin like a pro!" They laughed.

"Was that for his like, Dad's birthday or something?"

"50th anniversary of Waystar RoyCo, actually."

"God, you're whipped. Please tell me you're seeing him again."

"Well...it's complicated. He invited me to his brother's wedding this weekend, but I don't know-"

"Oh, you're so going."

"I know, I know, but what about the optics?" Stella cringed. She hated worrying about what people thought of her, but she had to.

"Who cares? Sure, his dad is like the worst, but isn't Kendall like, out of the company now?"

"I guess..." Stella was about to protest, but her doorbell rang. "Hold up, Laur, someone's at the door."

"Is it Kendall?"

"I don't think so. He's on a private jet right now." She didn't mean to brag, but it kind of came out that way.

"Of course he is."

Stella opened the door, careful to not let her dog out. A man holding a giant bouquet of flowers stood before her.

"Stella Allen?" he said. She could barely see his face because of how massive the flowers were.

"Um, yeah?"

"From Mr. Roy." He said, handing her the vase.

"Oh...thanks?"

The man nodded and walked away. She closed the door behind her.

"So Kendall just sent me a giant bouquet..."

"No fucking way!" Lauren screamed from the phone speaker.

Stella put the flowers down on her kitchen counter. "They're fucking massive, I don't even know what to do."

It was true, she really had no idea what she was going to do.

#kendall roy #kendall roy x oc #kendall roy x reader #succession #kendall succession

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soranihimawari · 2 years

Text

Darling, if you Dare

Pairing: Miya Osamu x reader

Word count: 2.5K

Rating: MOF [miya osamu fluff] //17+ for language

Warnings?: inarizaki shenanigans//being locked in the club room with crushes

Notes: lowercase intentional & these two have this kind of relationship below

“miya osamu! you are insufferable!” your voice echoes across the promenade. surrounding students wait a moment before the chatter begins again and you hastily walk away from the rest of your fellow third years with a notebook in hand. said galaxy gray haired twin smirks up at you, raising his hands to claim his innocence.

“i’ll send ya my part o’the project tomorrow, ok?”

“nine-thirty tonight, miya or else i’m talking to sakamoto-sensei about taking your name off the presentation.”

“what?! can’t ya ask fer an extension?”

“the project is due tomorrow, dumbass.”

he checks his phone’s calendar and in bold letters the midterm project for that class in particular is staring at him in the face. why did he have to take art history, he didn’t know, but it was an elective credit and he needed one more art to satisfy the requirements necessary for graduation. bonus of being in this class was attending it with you. you were desk mates since first year and frankly, when you accidentally left a sketchbook behind in the gym after class one day, the volleyball club thumbs through it only finding case studies of different students from the perspective of the artist. the giveaway hint was one of osamu asleep during morning traditional japanese literature—they had just come back from an overnight away game—the clock read nine-forty. it was a rough sketch, the only detail? the undercut and vbc hoodie he wore with his textbook open. he remembers that day because you covered for him when he woke up to the teacher calling his name to ask a question:

“sir, he wasn’t feeling well,” you cleared your throat. “hay fever, i heard him in the hallway…”

miya osamu mouths his thanks and goes back to sleep. his muscles on his face make him smile peacefully at you. thanks to that encounter, there were many more to be had: lunch the next day, you were feeling kind of blue because you forgot your lunch at home, but you found an extra bento with his handwriting—girls from other classes were crowding your desk jealous of the gift. you stubbornly sit down and see what they were staring at, the box with chipped lime green paint was slightly warmed and inside were onigiris with little salads and cut star fruit. the girls scatter when they hear the twins argue in the halls, but the blonde one stops and points at his brother’s classroom.

“they’re pretty cute,” it’s all miya atsumu says and osamu glances at your smile. you’re three bites into the first umeboshi onigiri and you’re clearly enjoying it. shortly thereafter, when his brother leaves to take a make up quiz, osamu joins you. he introduces himself and after you do too. you thank him with the empty bento, holding the note in your other hand. sliding your phone out of your pocket he noticed the series of numbers you’re saving in your contact list. his vibrates during study hours before final period begins. months later, you’re glued by your classmate’s side as a barrier between the crazy fans of his and the ones for his brother who actually learn to back away when you’re with them. you explain to them the reason why these girls don’t wish to quarrel with you because of your pretty gangster look; the boys laugh. until you said your grandfather ran an underground armstice in hokkaido. you’re visiting him next week for vacation.

“yer kiddin’, right?” atsumu asks worried there was some truth to that.

“nope,” you smirk. “gramps was a bit of an odd ball. always looking over his shoulder, but when you’re in the business of buying guns, you could assume he had a few policemen in his pocket too.”

osamu lets out a low whistle instead. he’s beside you, mentioning he doesn’t care about your family’s yakuza ties.

“like at all,” much to his brother’s displeasure. “c‘ mon, ‘tsumu. yn said it was her grandfather. this was what? post great war two?”

you nod. “so there’s absolutely nothing my favorite sibling terrors should worry about, yeah?”

atsumu reluctantly nods asking for a souvenir while osamu asks for a recipe book about regional fishes. you promise to bring the gifts next week.

presently, you spot a fox with a snack bag from the school store. three years you’re familiar with the volleyball team; three years sharing a room with miya osamu and you’d think he caught on to how serious you are about fine arts classes. suffice to say when you decide to ambush him about the art history project you’re asked to be his partner for (he was absent because of extra practice before nationals), he puts schoolwork on the back burner leaving you to do almost eighty-five percent of the work. that includes creating a replica expressing the themes of what the original artist and painting were trying to express. luckily for you, the project subject you suggested was photorealism and being naked as a natural state. you had two months to work on it and now the day before it’s due, you confront the infernal free-rider with a fury rightfully placed on him. osamu’s gray hazel eyes glimpse up at you and he sees his heart slow down. sure being disappointed in losing a game, being scolded by his ma, and arguing with his brother all made its way to the surface of his face to hide the bit of shame attached to these. but being scolded by you, his other close friend, for honestly not pulling his own weight for this class you convinced him you needed to take to get into the art program at TUA was far worse—it was like being scolded by an ex, although in his eighteen years of life, he’s only had two.

“hey yn-chan,” casually you walk past suna, best friend extraordinaire to the person who had received your wrathful outburst.

“not now sunarin,” you grit your teeth before placing an awkward smile on your face contrary to the irk mark on your brow. “i’ll see you later. and tell ‘im to get his shit together.”

suna walks up to where his friend was sitting, offering a precious chuppet to the would be chef.

“what did you do? yn is pissed,” suna watches you leave and his attention turns to his friend who sighs into his hands.

“forgot about a projec’ we was doin’,” osamu explains. “we had nationals to worry about, but i could have started it and now…”

“it’s due tomorrow and yn did all the work?” suna guesses, osamu groans. “skip the last half of the day.”

“huh?”

“skip the last half of the day, go to the library or museum and work on the project. i’ll cover you because your brother is gonna be a bitch today.”

suna says this and the tea he spills about atsumu being dumped by the class vice president is hitting the rumor mill tonight on the student body’s social media tonight. osamu doesn’t think twice before grabbing his stuff when you’re in the art club room before he heads out of campus grounds. he doesn’t want you to feel like he’s failed you even if it’s a school project. the club, his team, he could handle all that. but you? failing a project worth a good chunk of your overall grade could make or break your transcripts being accepted, that alone, would hurt his pride even more because it was something preventative.

isolating yourself after dinner that night to put the finishing touches on a painting to go with the written report caused your parents to worry a bit. it’s not everyday their talented child decides to forego family game night, but times were changing, as you said. around nine-twenty-seven, your phone lights up with an e-mail notification. you turn on your desktop and once it completely boots up, you open the attachments from one [email protected] you read his portion of the report about american painter chuck jones and were caught scoffing at the selfie he took in front of the exhibit banner. you text him a thumbs up saying you read and received his report.

two weeks go by and as the rest of the third year class makes preparations for the entrance exams for the schools of their choosing, you and osamu are called into the faculty lounge. this was a double whammy of both art history teacher and your shared guidance counselor asking you which schools you were considering taking the exams for and in a surprise turn of events, asking to include your finished project in the sample of sketchbooks being reviewed for admission.

“i'm considering tokyo u's art program for fine arts and art history,” is your answer. you’re the first one to speak and the last one to concur amongst the adults there of the extreme conditions of the exams, yet you have this indecipherable blaze around you it’s scary.

“culinary school for me,” osamu answers their question too with an equal attitude, shifting the focus to him. "maybe attend tokyo for an internship in the future." the teacher and guidance counselor chuckle saying the two tracks suit the two almost graduates before them.

"yn-san, bring your sketchbooks to the art club room next meeting for critique and review," sakamoto-sensei says clapping his hands. he was the art club sponsor this year and seeing the president of said club with this air of finality in their path, it is clear you are to achieve greatness in small steps.

once classes had let out for the afternoon, you receive a text from suna and atsumu to meet at the volleyball club room. there wasn’t any emergency as one would have predicted when you’re asked to stop by, but today was locker clean out day. the boys wanted both their vice captain and the supposed reason his cheeks flushes scarlet (when he misses a toss) to confront talk about their suppressed emotions. well, more like suna bet atsumu snack-buying for a week that osamu would crack first where the blonde bet that you would not crack one bit. regardless, when you greet the underclassmen from the club, they say their goodnights to you making sure to mention that you’re coming into the room in case anyone else was still in their draws. hearing osamu call out saying that it’s fine, you bump into a half-naked suna, pulling a shirt over his head and one fully clothed atsumu.

“are you guys walking home together?” you have this cheeky grin on your face. you wink at them when they deny everything saying they’d wait for you and samu. "i think that's cute, even if it's a bit elementary school-ish for me."

"oi!" atsumu says, crossing his arms over his chest.

"what? yn-san's not wrong," suna says. he then picks up his stuff signaling atsumu it's time to head out.

“you’re not going to do anything stupid, are ya?” you narrow your eyes. what you don’t see is osamu staring at his brother and best friend as they deny doing anything like, “oh, i don’t know. locking you in here with the person who has a crush on you.” (<-suna)

they leave with this determined look on their faces and you hate the fact you hear the door lock.

osamu sort of blinks then panics when you’re banging your fists against the door calling the two on the other side “dead bastards.”

you regain your composure when you feel osamu’s hands wrap themselves around your wrists, turning you around. he has this slight blush spreading across his face and down to his ear lobes. the space between you is practically non-existent because he asks if you’re ok with a pointed eyebrow since he tends to worry about you more than he does his own brother. it’s a gentle kabedon when he adjusts his grip on your wrists into a lighter touch, his bangs brush against your forehead.

“you’re too close ‘samu.”

holy hell, have your eyes always been this crisp? why, why are you looking at me like that 'samu? your thoughts are linearly curious.

“Oh, hah, sorry,” he said, allowing your hands to slip out of his hold.

you notice his duffle bag filled with clothes and old jerseys from the last three years he had joined and played with this club.

“you were one of the best wing-spikers i heard,” you compliment.

he smiles a bit, raising a hand behind his neck. of all the times for him to be nervous, this was not one of them.

“'m not like aran-senpai,” he says, but his chest puffs out with a bit of prideful air from your comment.

“did i say i was talking about aran-kun?” you arch your brow at him.

“...no.”

you move to sit down on the bench in front of his things. osamu sends this confused look to you as you pick up the second year white jacket with his name embroidered on the chest and his number on the sleeve.

“what're ya doing?”

holding it up against your chest, you’re hugging the cleaned jacket with a definite hold. it smells like the miya house on laundry saturdays–lavender and spring rain softener was used the last time it was done.

“can i have this one?”

suddenly, you’re shyly hiding behind the collar of the jacket. osamu chuckles a little before placing an open palm on the crown of your head, gently tossing your tresses to one side like you have it for picture days.

“i was going to give you my graduation pin,” osamu confides in you when he steps aside to sit down in front of you. the jacket is the only barrier between both your knees from knocking into the other. the weight of his confession knocks you forward with butterflies spilling out of your mouth.

“hah?!”

“ don't pretend ya didn't hear me the first time.”

“...mm.”

he chuckles, covering his mouth like he’d turn into a cough. you, on the other hand, choose to place your hands on his face, checking if he’s feeling alright or if he’s catching a cold. you’re too close again, but neither of you care.

“walk home with me and i'll tell you how i feel,” you say, your lips dangerously hovering over his for a moment before backing down completely. “now text those two assholes to open the door and let us out. please.”

picking up the jacket off the bench, you unzip it to wear outside when the door slides open and suna is seen with a surprised expression as you walk by, tugging the jacket closer to your body. atsumu to this day, swears he was the winner of the bet, however he was seen at the combini buying seven different bags of chuppets.

elsewhere in the neighborhood close to the miya residence, neighbors had said that the vice captain was seen locking lips with the president of the art club, just like he was going to after making yn-san listen to him spill his heart out. you regain your composure when he says something foolish like apologizing for not asking to date you until right now. you hold his hand and bring it to the small of your back. you are sneaky when threading your fingers through the belt loops of his school uniform, jutting him forward to crush your lips on his again. your kiss is hard and deep, and you show him how to tease you tongue into his mouth. it’s appalling you know how kiss him, it’s a shame he hadn’t known you like this either. who taught you how to kiss like this? it didn’t matter anymore because miya osamu obeys your every whim. he isn’t shy at all when he kisses you fervently spelling ‘mine’ skillfully with his mouth. you leave him gasping when you ask him to come over later, your side window remains unlocked.

miya osamu sneaks in around eleven that night. you chuckle saying you didn’t know he’d take up so seriously. alas, when he kisses you again as a greeting, you return his affections when you instinctively kiss him back—every ounce of ‘weak in the knees’ feelings they had harbored together boils to the surface. enough of the residual heat from this passion project causes you to sit on his lap on your bed, half dressed knowing this is as far as you’re willing to go with each other for one night. resting your forehead against his, osamu nudges his nose against yours saying he’s determined to make up for lost time, yet you agree with a hum. he presses a kiss to your hairline saying he should sneak back out before getting you in trouble. you instruct him to lay down, saying sleeping over is an option because you’re worried he’d land in more trouble at home. he faces you and you him, short lived chuckles and giggles echo in your room before kissing each other one final time, holding hands under the duvet.

it is said the pair stared at their future with a bold look of arrogant determination like they always did at school–because long distance is meant to work out for those who are daring enough to win at love.

#sora scribbles 2022 #🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #sora after hours #haikyuu x reader #miya osamu x reader #hq fluff: miya osamu

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apprenticestanheight · 3 months

Text

All is Well That Ends Well - Lawrence Gordon x gn! afab! reader - part III

all right!! Here we are with part three of the sugar daddy AU! To compensate for the delay with the last chapter, both parts three and four are coming out this week, and part four will be released in about an hour and a bit from now, should the queue work properly.

This part is one of the few without smut in it bc this fic is porn with plot rather than without and it'll get a bit more plot-focused as chapters go on. I haven't written too much into the middle right yet but I know that, bc of the way that I want to write it, there'll be more of a balance.

Fic type - this chapter is fluffy, however, the fic generally is for audiences of 18 and over, so minors, still don't interact pls and thanks

Warnings - lawrence makes a footloose joke about himself, plus the trap and jigsaw are mentioned

When you explained everything to Aurelie the following morning, she offered to help you pack shortly after a high-five and verification that you trusted the handsome acquaintance that Lawrence had turned into, which you did. It was very easy to trust him, and the phone call you'd had after you'd been at your apartment for a whopping thirty minutes only made your trust in him increase.

When you met Lawrence at the bar that night, you gave him a copy of your schedule so that he could figure out when it was best to reach out to you for sex and he gave you the primary key to the condo, promised you the schedule would see no eyes other than his own, and the two of you got to know each other more so that the foundations of trust were built further.

You moved into the condo mostly by yourself that Saturday, carrying boxes up the elevator two at a time. Unpacking was relatively easy as you didn’t have too much, and when Lawrence graced your door with your favorite take out and a grin, saying no to him was impossible.

You ate the takeout on the living room floor—Aurelie had bought the couch and most of the other furniture you had in the apartment you’d shared and so you didn’t really have much in the way of furniture, but your bed was in the room you’d declared your own and you had mugs, cups, cutlery and dishware so you counted that, at least, as a relative win.

“And it’s not—it’s not that I’m hyper independent,” you say. “It’s just that Aurelie has a lot of stuff on her plate and asking her to help me move in felt like I would’ve been making myself into an inconvenience, so I didn’t.”

“You could’ve asked me,” Lawrence says. “I gave you my number for reasons other than booty call style meet ups. I would’ve helped.”

“It wasn’t too difficult,” you shrug. “Two boxes at a time, it took me around two hours. Plus, Aurelie helped load up the car. You’ve also helped me enough—you bought me dinner, and that’s on top of the four thousand dollars a month thing we’ve got going for us?”

“Well—hyper independence is a little unhealthy,” Lawrence says, shrugging. “Just—you’re allowed to reach out to others for help. I’m a phone call away and I imagine Aurelie shares the same sentiment.”

You grin. “Thank you for this,” you say. “Both the advice and the food. I need to get a couch, evidently, so if you wouldn’t mind helping me get one through the front door, I’m probably going to go to a furniture store tomorrow.”

Lawrence laughs. “You need a couch, and a coffee table, and curtains for a place other than your bedroom—you need plenty. Can you cover all of it? Your first two thousand doesn’t come in until next week.”

You nod. “I have twenty thousand set aside from odds and ends while working in case my life ever goes up in flames. Plus—my bosses are two people in their sixties who can afford quite the hefty Christmas bonus. That is the primary foundation of the savings account, actually.”

“How hefty a bonus can two sixty year olds afford?”

“Five thousand dollars tacked onto my paychecks for December,” you grin. “I get a bonus in spring, too, totaling to $1000, and a bonus in autumn totaling to the same amount. I’ve worked there for twelve years now and because they have no interest in turning their bookstore into a branch of bookstores, the money they make from getting frequent customers and having eight additional employees outside of themselves is quite a lot. They’re busy all year round, and Monday and Tuesday are typically their busiest days because that’s when new releases hit the shelves.”

Understanding flashes across Lawrences face. “That’s why you can’t meet on Mondays,” he says. “New releases means more people. More people means a longer shift.”

You nod. “I wake up at four thirty on Monday mornings. Classes are from six in the morning to 11:15. I drive to work because it’s five minutes out from the uni campus, spend ten minutes eating an early lunch and then work from eleven thirty until ten. My classes don’t start until ten AM on Tuesdays so I eat a late take out dinner, come home, conk out at eleven and sleep until nine.”

“I’m a doctor and I don’t understand how that’s possible,” he says. “I did a bachelors and then medical school, followed by an internship where I slept maybe three hours in the course of 24 and still, how you manage that makes no sense to me. When I was thirty I was working as a doctor already and still, my entire day was about as chaotic as your Monday morning sounds.”

“Mondays are days where I run on four or five hours—I always wake up before my alarms and going to bed at around half past midnight kind of sets you up for failure anyway—and I manage by drinking either two or three energy drinks or at least a liter of coffee.”

“That is the opposite of healthy for your heart and liver function.” Lawrence says, taking a bite of his takeout. You laugh, shrugging a little.

“I know,” you nod. “I also know that one day it’ll come back to bite me in the ass, but I’m just fine with that so long as it waits until I’ve got gray hair and am in my eighties.”

Lawrence laughs, shakes his head.

The two of you finish your meal in relatively light chitter chatter—you ask Lawrence about his day at work and listen to his responses, then tell him about the time you’d had working a six hour shift the day before.

Talking to him, so it seems, is an incredibly easy feat. He’s exactly the kind of person you can open up to without even really noticing that you’ve done as much, and you’re fine to tell him whatever he wants to know either way as you’re a fairly open book.

Once you’re done with the food, you rinse out the containers it came in—they’re multiple use and decent for storage—while Lawrence notes he’s never seen it done before. At that, you shrug and laugh a little, reaching up to lightly poke his nose.

“In the house of the broke, we rinse and reuse what we can,” you say. “My parents taught it to me—we’ve been getting food from this place since I was a kid, and they market the fact that their takeout containers can be rinsed and reused on their website, menus, and in person—and they’re good containers!”

“I just don’t see the point,” Lawrence says, shrugging.

“Well, they’re good for meal prep,” you say. “I use them for that a lot of the time, given that I only allocate $20 a week to coffee and random treats for myself. They’re also really good for leftovers or when you’re bringing food to a family event—think Easter, Christmas, birthday parties—and for potlucks. Aurelie was like you, too. She still is, and now that I’ve moved out, I think my opportunity to show her the light was missed.”

Lawrence snorts. “I’m sorry that my wanting this place to go to good use means that she’ll never understand the joy of keeping containers from spontaneous takeaway.”

“It’s a nice place, and I think she was starting to get a bit fed up with me as her roommate anyway—we both have to study a lot for the degrees we’re getting, but I like reading anyway so I study a lot more, and she’s probably thriving off the knowledge that she’ll never walk past the living room for a glass of water at three in the morning and find me pouring over art history textbooks again, which only happened once but still. Once, for both of us, was more than enough.”

Lawrence nods. You finish rinsing off the last container and set it to the drying wrack to the left of the sink, flicking water at Lawrences chest before you dry your hands with a dry washcloth.

Lawrence laughs at your action, shaking his head. “You’re a very interesting person,” he says.

“Well, even at the ripe old age of thirty and two degrees out of three done with, I still feel like I’m 25 a lot of the time,” you say. “I’m not the partier I was during my Masters, though. You will not find me drunk when you come in one of these days. Now, I have taste in terms of my liquor, and will only drink Smirnoff vodka when I’m nine drinks deep because it will forever remind me of being in my first years of uni and drinking at frat parties.”

“I didn’t do much drinking in my college days,” Lawrence says as you grab your electric kettle. “I was too busy with studying—I was Type A.”

You nod, laughing slightly as you dump out the water you’d poured into it that morning to replace it with new water that’s not several hours old.

“You seem Type A. The college, then medical school, then wife and kid and house and presumably a number of dinner parties with your colleagues. All of it reeks of Type A,” you say. “No offense, of course.”

“You’re missing the parts that make me fun,” Lawrence says, eyes narrowing both playfully and accusatorily. “The Jigsaw trap, the footloose bit—" at that remark, Lawrence uses his cane to gesture to the prosthetic foot that exists in place of the real thing, smirking at his own humor just slightly "—The divorce, the loss of said child, the weeks spent in recovery, and now you.”

You fill the kettle to your liking and place it back onto its port, pressing down on the small lever and watching for the blue light that ticks up on the lower half once it gets started.

“I make you fun?” You ask, grinning a bit as the blue light takes hold of the bottom half of your kettle. “Oh, that is the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me. Didn’t know you had sweetness in you.”

“You’ve met me a grand total of, what, four times now?” Lawrence asks. “Of course, we’ve established I am not some glorified serial killer, so that puts trust in you, but you’ll find as we get to know each other more that I can be both fun and sweet. Sometimes both at once.”

You nod. “I can’t wait to witness that, then.” You turn around to grab a mug and a tea bag, offering one to Lawrence, which he accepts.

Once the tea is made, you drink it in relative silence, occasionally teasing one another and making each other laugh. Lawrence goes home thereafter, and you find yourself in a half empty condo, completely alone.

#lawrence gordon #lawrence gordon x reader #saw (2004)#sawposting #saw posting

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