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bangficsx · 2 months

Text

PLANNERS

pairing : jungkook x reader insert

word count : 7777 [coincidence ;)]

synopsis : wedding planner hooks up with the bride's cousin

warning : slight dry humping, teasing, blowjob, fingering, cum swallowing, squirting, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (it's just a fic), a dick pic i don't think there's anything else..

"I already got the number given for how many tables and chairs are to be set up" the man tells you, leaving you in disbelief.

"I think you have a misunderstanding. I'm the event manager. I was supposed to have a meeting with you about it." You try to put forward your argument which gets dismissed again immediately.

"A certain gentleman came two hours before and told me everything in detail" the man answers getting irritated by your insistence about his mistake.

"Now please do not waste my time miss. I've got a lot of other clients." You turn around and roll your eyes, stomping forward murmuring "again".

It wasn't the first time your job got done by your customer. You have never met one like this before in the hundreds of weddings and events you've arranged. Why pay a hefty sum to you if they want to do everything on their own?

You make up your mind and set out on a quest to find the mysterious man who keeps completing the tasks he hired you to perform. And you've already assumed he must be the typical arrogant asshole from your nightmares.

The next morning, you leave for the photographer's studio three hours early. You were supposed to meet them to decide the lighting and type of camera that is to be used. What kind of shots the couple wants.

In your two year long career, you've never had an upset client. You try your best to deliver the exact kind of wedding they must've dreamt of for their whole lives.

The wedding ceremony is one of the most important events of a human's life. The most joyous celebration that unites two individuals and families together.

And you make those dreams come true. It's in your hand to control all that is controllable on that most special day of someone's life.

This wedding is by far the most expensive one you've ever handled. Usually you would manage two or three in a month. But they put a condition asking you only focus on theirs for the month the wedding's scheduled in.

The groom started his own tech company at just 20 and earned a name for himself. While the bride is the ceo of a pharmaceutical company her dad left to her.

You ask your photographer if they got any emails about your event and when they checked they actually had one. You asked them for the address ensuring them there would be no consequences.

When you search the email address, you find it mentioned on a linked in account. You assume it must be the bride Si-young's cousin as you clearly remember her telling you she doesn't have any siblings of her own.

You find the man has attended a business school abroad and has professional posts about the company. Again you assume, he must work in the company too. Probably hold some influential position and hence, acts like such an asshole.

You also come from a well to do family yet you never understood why rich people spend money on services they don't even use.

You look at the picture of the man carefully. A pretty good looking man for sure. And you smirk when you find him in the car that's driving up the street just like you expected.

You feel stupid that you'd shared the schedule with them to assure everything would be done in time. There was a fair amount of time left yet you were working everyday as it was a big scale event, a grand affair. Two business tycoons coming together along with their souls and hearts.

You walk upto the spot where he parks his car. Resolute to give him an earful about what has been happening for the last week.

You stand with your hands folded waiting for him to ask what you want and to gladly tell him to let you do your job. He walks past you and enters the studio leaving you gasping.

You stomp your feet and follow him. Fuming in anger, you call behind him "excuse me mister what do you think are you doing huh?"

He keeps talking with the photographer showing her samples that you were supposed to show and tells them they want better ones than those.

"Mr Jeon!" You call him again. He finally turns around.

"Can I help you?" He asks as if he's clueless.

"Yes. I think you're aware that Ms Si-young and her fiancé have appointed me as their wedding planner. I'm the one whose supposed to perform the tasks you've been performing. It's my job" You finally release all your pent up frustration.

"It's complicated" he says and turns around to continue his conversation.

"Excuse me sir do you not understand how much inconvenience you've been causing me. I have been wasting my precious time and money to travel miles only to find you've already done the job" you shout unable to believe something like this could ever happen.

"Look it's not my problem. I told Si-young that I would look after every little detail about her wedding. It's not my fault if she paid someone to do it. Just keep the money." He says with an expression that says he wants you to fuck off but you aren't going to give up so easily.

Going away with free money is easy. But you're not gonna do that. It's a large sum of money that you received. And you need to manage this event to enhance your portfolio. Grabbing this opportunity is so far your biggest achievement. If you do this you'd be able to kick all the asses that laughed on your face when you told them your career choice was becoming an event manager.

And your stubbornness resulted into the gentleman bringing you to a café to explain to you why he wants to arrange everything by himself. How much it means to him. What Si-young denies to accept.

"Her dad died when she was nineteen. She was abroad studying when he was on his deathbed. I was by his side through out his sickness. And his dream was to have a perfect wedding for his only daughter. Look she's the only thing he ever had. Her mother died before he could marry her. He meant a lot to me because you see my dad all our fortune drinking and gambling. Uncle took me in and provided me with the best of opportunities and education and in turn it helped me send money to my family. He saved us and now I want to fulfill his last wish and dream. That's why I want to arrange the whole wedding. Ensure everything is absolutely perfect. Si-young likes to flex her money, she thinks just spending lots of money will get her the perfect wedding day. She doesn't understands only someone who deeply cares and loves her would ensure perfection." You feel attacked and he surely knows he's being rude to make you run but you're not going to, not so easily.

You've had enough experience dealing with people who won't trust you. Parents of brides and grooms, brides and grooms themselves, even your own parents.

You quickly pull your tablet put and open your browser which already has a tab open with your website on it.

"Well Sir I'd like to tell you I've been an event manager with an expertise in wedding planning for two years now. I've successfully managed a hundred weddings now and this is my profile. As you can probably see with your own eyes I'm able to put up the best possible events." You tell him proudly because nobody else ever takes pride in you.

"Look I've told you I want to do it and I'm going to do it no matter how much you try to" he says again and you can't bear it anymore.

You lash out "You don't understand how hard I've worked to get here alright. I've worked my ass off the past four years. Two years as an intern where I worked like a dog and then at my own company. I have been able to get here based on sheer hard work and nothing else. I'm not gonna let you snatch it away from me." He watches your nostrils flare, and your skin turn red.

"Alright calm down. Take a deep breath" he says before he sighs.

"Please" You can't believe yourself and takes everything in you to stoop like this but you speak the word out.

It's the way you ask him that he relates to you in some sense. He knows what working hard is like and can tell from your eyes you're speaking the truth.

"Can we do it together then?" He offers.

You roll your eyes at him, contemplate then answer "fine"

"So easy.. you had to make it so hard" he chuckles and you look away trying to hide your smile.

"At least get a black coffee for self respect. You're embarrassing me along with yourself" You point out that you two have been sitting for too long without ordering something.

"Sorry" he mumbles before ordering.

"It's okay" you respond.

"You just wanna... keep... sitting on the same table" he asks fearing another outburst from you.

"People might misinterpret if I suddenly leave and sit somewhere else." You answer. Think it might benefit both of you.

"How so?" He asks. You don't understand if he lacks experience assuming he might have drowned himself in studies first and now work or he's just messing with you and having his own fun in it.

"We looked like we were fighting. They might think we were a couple... and we broke up" you answer clearing all his doubts.

"You're kinda clever you know" he says.

"No doubt" you answer.

Your coffees arrive and you both silently sip from your cups. He keeps glancing at you then at the table. Covers his mouth not known to you, he's covering a foolish grin, a blush because he can't stop looking at you and get reminded of how cute he found you in control of anger. How he adores a smart woman who can take a stand for themselves and don't give up.

"You know complete silence can be misinterpreted in a way too" he leans over the table folding his arms.

"Certainly" you agree. Also you are finding it impossible to resist the urge to talk to him.

A part of you is unable to believe you are having coffee even that you're sitting at the same table with a person who studied from one of the top business schools of the world.

"You want a sandwich or something... lemme compensate you for all the money you spent at least obviously I can't return you the time" he speaks looking around for the waitress. Before you can refuse he has already ordered two. You didn't say anything because you could hear your stomach grumbling in hunger. You hadn't eaten a proper dinner last night too.

"You know I kinda understand her dad and you too" your words grab his attention. He looks at you, fluttering his eyes, without any shame not moving them away.

"Hmm" he finds himself at a lack of words.

"It's pretty important to my dad too... That someday my wedding goes well if it happens. But we aren't really on good terms anymore so I don't really know what's gonna happen when the time comes" you tell him. Mustering the courage to finally open up. You've been in your shell for way too long now. It's been five months since you and your girlfriend broke up.

"What happened" he asks trying to not offend. "If you're comfortable to share" he quickly adds.

Your sandwiches arrive right before you start answering, "He wanted me to be an engineer but I had no interest in that area. So he didn't help me tuition for undergrad or anything at all. Mom is a homemaker so she couldn't help me as such. Then when I started my business even then he didn't give any seed money or anything. So far I've been able to manage on my own so I guess I'll arrange my own wedding by myself too. I've got one life, I'm gonna live it out on my own terms. I don't give a fuck anymore" you bite a huge piece off your sandwich not caring what he thinks.

"I'm proud of you" he mutters.

You are surprised to hear that and make no efforts to hide that, "What... what did you just say?" You ask.

"Oh you heard it. You're strong and self made so..." he scratches his nape nervously.

"Thanks" you tell him.

You take another bite of your sandwich.

"Also my parents don't know that I'm bi" You blurt out, kinda on purpose to see if he's gonna back off because of that but it doesn't budges him. He seems to be absolutely fine with it. And there have been many who have left after you state that fact about yourself.

When you both finish eating you walk outside the café together.

"Sorry for wasting your time like that" you apologise. "You seem like you have a serious job"

"No it's not like that... it's all for Si-young and she means a lot to me, even more than my own siblings." He quickly explains.

"Wine tasting tomorrow 5pm" You remind him although he must already have it pinned on his schedule.

"See ya" he leaves after getting in his car. He wanted to ask you to get in the car and drop you wherever it was you needed to go but he had a meeting in an hour and had to prepare for it.

The next day, you meet again. You feel guilty of the excitement of sorts that you hold in your heart to meet him again.

You thought about him all day long the day before, all night and all morning. He was beautiful and kind. Inspiring and caring. You'd never met a guy like that before.

You skip your usual pants and shirt work outfit and instead wear a dress. With a denim jacket on top and boots to walk in.

The wine seller was not a long distance away from your place. You had a home office setup and were saving for an actual office.

You find that Jungkook has already reached the location and was waiting for you. You feel embarrassed not knowing for how long he's been there.

He walks upto you and greets you and you do the same. You walk inside together.

"We have a booking for a wine tasting" you ask the receptionist who points at an old man sitting in a corner. She asks him to take over.

You and Jungkook sit at a table with glasses placed in front of you. The old man uninterested to work asks you to just tell whichever tastes best after showing you samples from what they offer at weddings. You know that the place has the best wines so you don't object towards the behaviour.

"Should we try this one first?" He asks.

You both try the same wines and wait for a few seconds for the taste to settle in.

"No way" You answer. He chuckles and nods.

"OK, trust me this isn't their best" you tell him quickly not letting him doubt your choice of wine seller.

"You've had the best one before?" He asks.

"Yeah someone gifted me once" you get reminded of your ex who brought it for your anniversary. It brings back all the bitter memories from your breakup. It was the longest, strongest relationship of your life yet it ended in such a bad way. You still haven't completely forgotten her.

"Jungkook" you take his name as if he's a friend of yours.

"Yeah everything alright?" He senses the change in your tone and expressions because he hasn't looked anywhere else.

"Can you... can you please taste these and tell me which one you like best? I'm sure you have a great taste in alcohol." You request him. He looks at you and nods.

He picks up a glass and drinks from it. You're sure he must have a hundred questions rushing through his mind but he's not asking them out of politeness.

"Don't wanna kill you with curiosity it's just because my last ex and to be honest one of the best ones brought the best wine from here for our anniversary so I don't wanna taste it and remember it all again. It was pretty terrible... the break up" you purse your lips.

"I'm not curious about those things" he sips another wine and makes a face furrowing his eyebrows. You don't know what to make of it, it looks like he's gonna get angry at you for bringing you to a place which has not a single good one.

"How are these their bestsellers... like what the fuck is even happening here" you look around to call someone and ask them if they actually arranged you the best samples.

"No wait... fuck.." he takes another sip. "Heaven" a moan escapes his mouth before he presses his lips together.

"You like it? I was worried, thought you were gonna get angry at me" you sigh in relief and he laughs, giggles looking at your face.

"Why would I ever get angry at you?" He shrugs his shoulders.

"I boasted about this particular place so I'm bound to be questioned if it doesn't turns out as per the expectations I have planted in someone else's mind. Part of my job is to have a varied taste because different people like different things and I have to cater to their needs accordingly." You speak and he was mesmerized with you.

"You speak so well... damn. You really are passionate about what you do" hee says.

"Yes I am" you confirm.

"I like people with passion for their jobs" he says. You feel butterflies in your tummy. You know how he's indirectly pointing at you.

"So... should I go sort it out with them?" You ask.

"You know... you could drink some other wine. I don't like getting drunk alone" he says.

"Well if you feel like that" you buy a mid range bottle for yourself and ask for a glass. It's not necessarily a place to sit and drink in, yet you two are the only ones there. And you don't like making people feel lonely so you'd better get a little drunk too. And wine makes you feel kinda cosy, drunk but still like yourself.

You can see that he is tipsy. He buys the wine he liked for himself. Once you're both finished you step outside the store.

"How did you get here?" You ask.

"Took a cab" he answers. "Driving wouldn't have been a smart thing to do if I knew I was gonna drink" he adds.

"Don't you have like drivers" you ask curiously. The alcohol starts to have it's effects with the passage of time.

"Not me" he answers your query.

"Hope you aren't getting late for any plans" he says checking if you haven't forgotten about something.

"Why are you curious now?" You smirk.

"Don't want you to blame me later that I got you drunk"

"I drank out of my own will. Just say you're curious to know if I have a partner. I can sense your intentions very well Jeon" you walk away from him but he giggles and steps closer again. You move away again and he pulls you, gently holding your arm.

"Hey I have no such intentions" he denies.

"I'm not so naive to not notice" you keep walking forward with a straight face.

You are certain of what's going on inside his mind. You were sure of your attraction when you first saw him. You've had enough of crying over your ex and remembering the things she did to you. All you need is someone else to do even better things to you.

"By the way... how old are you?" He asks hesitantly.

"Not a minor for sure" you try to annoy him.

"Real age please ma'am" he rolls his eyes.

"Turning 24 in a couple months" you tell him wondering if he's older than you or if he would be uncomfortable that you're younger than him.

"I'm 26, means I can talk informally with you" he states without you asking.

You don't know why you keep walking further. Even though you know you should just take a cab and go back home yet it's like you're waiting for something. You want to just get even the glimpse of an opportunity. Even though a part of you knows it's not completely right but that adds to the thrill of it all.

"Are you sure you don't have someone waiting for you?" You ask him indirectly.

You are begging inside your heart to know that he's single.

You can't stop the trail of dirty thoughts that follows as you see his skin shining with the layer of sweat that's covering his face. He flicks his lip ring with his tongue, you see him bite his lip before he looks at you with a hint of lust in his eyes.

"Umm no. I have been single for like two years now. My ex left behind a lot of damage too. Took me a lot of therapy and strength to get through it all. We dated four years, I thought she was the one and only and well..." he pauses. You understand what he means and nod.

"I'm sure your little heart will heal" you pat his chest lightly and he smiles. His hand brushes yours as he shifts to walk closer to you even though you barely had an inch between you two.

The image of him biting his lip replays in your mind. You glance at his lips again which he parts making you avert your gaze before he notices.

He's in a leather jacket, white t-shirt, black skinny jeans. Your eyes travel south and get a quick look at the fabric hugging his toned thighs. You wonder if how many abs he's got under the shirt. Fuck, you can't believe your brain is fantasizing about a man you've only met twice when the sun has just started to set.

"You're curious about so many things right now but you aren't asking isn't it?" You smile looking at him. Try to ease the tension because you can sense it building in him too.

"Oh come what do you think I'm even curious about?" He scoffs.

"We're all curious about things Jungkook" you say. You almost trip over a rock but he holds your hand. He keeps holding it just in case you lose balance again. You both are equally tipsy.

"Well what are you curious about?" He asks after a moment.

"Well you know like what happens after death? What will happen to me if the number of people getting married keeps decreasing? What cock tastes like?" The last one makes him cough and stare you.

"You're so drunk" he says.

"Not so much" you tell him.

"Then repeat what you just said" he says

"Why?" You fold your arms over your chest narrowing your eyes at him.

"Why is that a thing you're the most curious about?" He blurts out.

"You're asking like you have some position open for a blow job giver" you joke.

"Like you'd apply for the job" he adds.

You look around people don't give a fuck they're busy minding their own business. You regret saying what you said but yet you let go.

"Have you been to the wedding venue yet?" You ask changing the topic.

"Just checked it out on the internet" he says.

"Wanna go check it out?" You ask.

"I'm kinda tired what about tomorrow?" He offers.

"We've only walked like 500 metres" you chuckle.

"I'm sure it's more than a thousand" he says.

You reach the bus stand from where you can get a bus to your place. He stands beside you.

"You should get a cab. I'll just get on the bus." You tell him. You sense the disappointment in his eyes, but for some reason he doesn't express his desire.

"Okay. If that's what you want" he takes his phone out from his pocket.

You feel foolish waiting for him to turn around and say something. He keeps tapping his foot on the ground, looking at his phone.

The next day arrives after much anticipation. You get late, losing time in doing makeup.

The blood rushes to your cheeks everytime you think about him. You slept last night dreaming about his face, his lips, his delicate features.

You wait on the road for the cab to arrive. Jungkook texts you that he's on his way.

The banquet's in a hotel where the ceremony will take place.

Last night you both had no other options. You don't think each other's homes would've been a great option and there were no motels in sight either. He didn't even bring his car which could've been a compromise you would've made.

Now being in a hotel means you have the opportunity on hand you just have to catch it.

You give him a tour of the place. You have permission to enter the hotel at any time since they all know you are a wedding planner and you're managing an event there in a month.

As soon as he finds you both in a secluded corner he's quick to make the offer.

"You do know what I'm expecting?"

"What? For me to pay for lunch?" You tease him.

"For your curiosity to die" he answers.

"I don't wanna die so young" you tell him.

"Sure can't before you taste cock" you cringe hearing him phrase your words. You know it's just skin and flesh, it can't have it's own taste. It's not like pussy which you've tasted many times but only your ex's. You were drunk, wanted to be suggestive towards him and hence made that up.

"Well I don't have anyone right now whom I'd like to suck off" you tease him more. Kinda like to watch him get desperate.

"Think again" he says. You almost laugh but like how direct he's acting. He has hope evident in his eyes.

"Thought so hard my head hurts" you answer to play a level further than him.

"You're killing me" he says making you walk backwards and hit your back against the wall. Although he keeps his hand behind you so that you don't get hurt.

"No I'm not" you say.

"I'll buy you pretty things" he says. Keeps his hands beside your head.

"I'm weird I don't like pretty things" you joke, enjoy the way he hisses with frustration.

"Then I'll buy you ugly things. Or whatever you like..."

"Excuse me.. I'm not looking for a sugar daddy" you clarify. He sighs. Gets closer.

"I know you want me and you're fighting it. And I want you so bad... you can't even imagine" you hold to him for support as he stands dangerously close to you, staring into your eyes. You pull him a little closer and with the tip of your tongue lick his lower lip. The metal of his lip ring feels cold as your tongue glides over it.

Before he ends up losing all control, he takes your hand and barges into an open room. You raise your eyebrows finding it very questionable what he just did.

"I already booked it" he smirks before he sits on the edge of the bed and pulls you above his lap.

You sit on him a bit hesitantly knowing he has a growing erection underneath his pants, causing him to act like this.

"Don't act so innocent" he whispers before pulling you closer with his hands on your hips. His hardness presses to your crotch.

You wrap your legs tighter around him.

He tangles his fingers with your hair. You lean closer to him but he doesn't kisses you. You try to get your lips on his but he keeps moving his face, touching his lips and his nose on your cheeks and neck and behind your ears.

"Don't" you whisper.

"Like you didn't" he puts a peck on your lips then pulls back again before you can fully kiss him. You let out a complaining groan and give up on trying to kiss him. He'll do it on his own because you know he wants it too.

"So desperate aren't you..." he presses his lips near yours. "Yet you were giving me such a hard time"

"You were the one denying your very obvious interest in me... and I was kinda nervous because I've never before hooked up with my clients or anyone related" you tell him. He chuckles.

"That's because you help people plan their weddings silly... it would be really problematic if you hook up with someone who's about to get married" you laugh at his words. The vibrations of your laugh travel to him, as both of your chests remain pressed together.

"And if it's not them it's their parents, that's way worse" you both giggle before he tucks your hair behind your ear and finally kisses you.

You hold his head to not let him go and slowly move your tongue into his mouth. He reciprocates your actions with the same passion you show. He gently grazes his teeth over your lip. You squeeze his nape lightly.

His hands travel down your neck and you look down as he unbuttons your shirt. It's brown to go with your black trousers. Your bra is just a cotton one. You washed your only lace one and it didn't dry in time to wear in the morning.

Jungkook cups your breast as he kisses down your cleavage. You fiddle with his buttons too. You really want to see what's underneath. He's insanely beautiful for a man and you feel jealous of his soft, silky hair. You have to carry out a whole ten step haircare routine through out the week to keep your hair frizz free and prevent dryness.

When he kisses you again, you grind yourself against him a little. He moans into your mouth. It's evident how close to the edge he is.

"You know if you want I can help you with that" you say as you feel wetness seep from your own folds as you stay pressed against his hard cock.

"Oh please... please..." he pulls himself away a little. Palms himself before you move his hand away.

You keep your hand on his chest and make him lie down. You have always liked how bouncy hotel mattresses tend to be. He giggles but quiets down as your hand reaches the button of his jeans.

You grip him from above his clothes and he pushes himself up against your hand. You unbutton his jeans after rubbing him for a few seconds.

Slowly you pull down his boxers too. And adore how pretty and thick he is. Your first man in four years and you're glad to grab a nice one. You feel evil to think of him like this but who cares, you both are just here to fool around, have fun.

You had a boyfriend when you were around nineteen to twenty and since then you only dated women. You did go on a couple dates with guys but none of them worked out.

You pull his jeans down his hips around his thighs. His cock is fully hard, the tip shines with precum. You make him lose his shirt too revealing the tattoo sleeve. You had gotten a glimpse of tattoos sneaking up his sleeve but had no idea that he had a whole hand full of them.

"Pretty tattoos" you remark and he smiles grazing his fingers on his arm.

"Tell me about them after you cum" you say making him chuckle.

"For that you have to start somewhere... I'm dying please" he whines.

You're quick to oblige. Your hands wrap around his dick. You give him a few pumps before licking his length.

You keep moving your hands around the base as you suck the top. He let's out muffled moans as you continue.

Somehow you get lost in the way he moans, knowing it's because of you, that you still can make people feel good. You were skeptical of yourself for a while after your ex labelled sex with you at the end of your relationship as average. You had always had a thrilling sex life with your partners, trying new things, new locations, new positions and techniques yet somehow you grew boring to her.

And here a man lay in front of you, groaning and moaning, definitely not faking it, with the way he was twitching and throbbing inside your mouth.

You keep going without thinking much. You find him responding well and if you keep doing it he'll reach climax and that is what you want for him, to get some release. He's been stressed about his cousin's approaching wedding and you assume his work life must be hectic too.

He grabs your hair in his fist trying his best to not hurt you. His grip loosens as you feel a warm liquid fill your mouth. The taste is a mix of things you can't describe with just one word. Before you swallow the first spurt another gets released out from his tip. Your clit throbs so bad, your heart beats so fast, you feel so wet, you just want to pull your pants down and make yourself cum if nobody's gonna do it for you. You feel an ache in your pussy and an urgent need to relieve yourself from it.

Jungkook lies with his head buried in the pillows. When he looks at you there's a shine to his face, his eyes. He has no care for how he came so much that too in your mouth.

"Either you make me cum right now or I'm making myself" you say pushing your trousers down as you lie beside him. You throw your shirt away too.

"Alright do it then..." he says. "Let's see how hard you can make yourself cum" his words sends another chill down your spine.

"Well then" you sit comfortably on the bed. Then part your legs. He watches carefully. You slowly push your panties to the side. Touch your clit and moan as the touch feels heavenly.

But the way that your pussy is all wet and messy and pretty Jungkook can't resist the temptation.

He sits beside you and slowly trails his hand up your thigh. You continue to rub your clit not caring what he thinks. Why would you do it's not like he means anything to you.

He doesn't removes your finger instead pushes his into your hole. "Fuck" you moan as he tries to find the sweet spot.

You increase your pace of stroking your clit.

With his free hand, he pushes the fabric of your bra down to expose your breasts just enough to get access to your nipples. He circles his thumb around the hardened buds.

As his finger continues to circle on your g-spot, he wraps his mouth around your nipple. His tongue circles around. He sucks trying to take in more of your boob into his mouth. You find it hard to maintain your rhythm of clit rubbing.

Yet as you find yourself too close to the climax, you're motivated to keep going. You just know it's going to be very hard. And with your moans and expressions, he finds his motivation too. He presses the tip of his finger against your walls.

You feel an unbearable pressure build inside you. Desperately trying to get relief. He's amazed how fast your hand starts moving. His eyes don't move away from your cunt neither does his finger pressing on your g-spot.

He takes your tit inside his mouth again. Your moans intensify as it finally snaps. Your thighs shake, you see the stars, think you've died for a second. It travels from your head to toe. You remove your hand but he doesn't.

Through the overstimulation he brings to you another unbearable pressure which turns into a wave of pleasure as you lose all control and squirt, shaking uncontrollably. Jungkook pulls his hand away and watches as you rub yourself again and spray more of the liquid soaking the sheets. You keep rubbing yourself and an orgasm combines with it. The control of your body has gone from you to your orgasm.

Jungkook moans watching you as his hand reaches his own cock thats hard again. He starts to pump himself as you catch your breath, your body still shakes.

"You surely enjoyed that" he says.

"Very much" you answer.

"Can we fuck now?" He asks. It's inevitable. You didn't think you'd come this hard in front of him. You look at his cock hard and ready to fuck you senseless.

Your lingering gaze tells him enough. He takes position above you. And before you know his tip is massaging your insides as he thrusts himself again and again.

Your phone starts suddenly ringing and with the surprise he sits up still holding his shaft. You fumble with the objects inside your handbag and take your phone out.

It was the hotel manager telling you they've arranged a special meal for you and your guest. Jungkook rubs himself against your clit and you almost moan yet he doesn't stops instead smirks.

As soon as you cut the call, he starts to fuck you again this time relentlessly. You both struggle to hold for long and come within minutes. He pulls out at the right moment, makes a mess all over your tummy and you clench around nothing as a short quick orgasm washes over you.

It's hard to speak after what you two did. You decided to take turns to shower. Thankfully you had an emergency pair of panties in your handbag which remains there all the time in case you unexpectedly start your period.

It's a rooftop setting where your food was. You had developed an appetite after the things you did that had tired you out immensely. You hadn't expected this at all, you were firm before entering the room that you'll just make out with him but so is life and it's happenings, one thing leads to another.

You sit across the table from Jungkook.

"It got a little crazy I'm sorry. I just lost..." he interrupts you and you wait for him to speak, "It was so fucking good... don't you dare try and deny that" he gives you a serious look and you chuckle.

"It'd been a while since I had fun like that. Sometimes one needs that right?" He nods, mouth stuffed with food. Would've bought you food regardless the hotel offered it or not.

"Bet you can say Si-young did a good job hiring me?" You joke.

He bites his lip before he laughs lowly.

"We're done with bookings now. I talked over a few things with the hotel. Guess I'm gonna see you for the final checks now" you speak in a low tone.

When you think about it you're gonna miss him even though it isn't a long time that you two spent together. There's just something about him that does something to your heart which you don't understand.

"Actually I have to go on a trip abroad and I don't know how long it's gonna take to wrap up the work although I'll be here for the wedding anyhow" he tells you. His voice is low. You know how much he wants to look after preparations firsthand.

"Hey don't worry. I hope you have some sort of trust on me now. I'll work my ass off to make sure your sister has the perfect wedding. And I'll give you updates every fifteen minutes." You say reach his hand that rests on the table.

"I'm counting on you" he says tightly holding your hand.

"You can" you answer.

Over the next few weeks you try to make contact with him but the time difference makes it impossible for you to have a conversation with him in real time. Mostly you send him updates regarding the wedding which is just work for you.

On a lucky day, you catch him online at an ungodly hour. You find out he's drunk. He keeps mentioning the sex you both had. Explains in detail, the things he liked which is almost everything about it. You're surprised he remembers it in such detail.

He sends you a pic of his erect penis says he's thinking about how you came and he hopes you look at it and make yourself come even harder. Everytime you are playing with yourself, you do remember the way his fingers worked and try to replicate it. The orgasms are strong that way and with his image in your mind even more.

You have no idea how you're gonna get him out of your mind. Although it brings you some peace that you're in his mind too.

He was in another country, he could be fucking anyone. It's not like he has to try too hard to get some. Yet he was thinking about you while jerking off. He liked the parts which others found a mess and a pain in the ass.

It was the nicest feeling to have someone accept you, appreciate you, like the way your body is and the way you are.

Much to your disappointment, he could only arrive on the day of the wedding. Hours before the ceremony starts. You had completely forgotten about his arrival, drowned in work as you were.

You were checking the lighting and flowers all around the place when two hands touched your shoulders. You turn around freaked out. Although it could be a friend from the staff trying to tell you to relax.

When you look at him you can't belive that he made it. He hugs you and presses a kiss on your forehead.

"Thank you so much for looking after everything so well" he thanks you but you shake your head.

"I'm getting paid" you say, then whisper "a big sum" you add. Although money hadn't been the only motivation for you to work hard on this project.

"Look at you" he fixes your hair, "What has become of you? You work hard more than you need to" he lightly pats your cheek before he guides you to a room at the back.

"Now show me the dress you're wearing. Will wank in advance so I don't get too horny if you're gonna look too hot" he says.

"What... there's no dress I'll just be wearing what I'm already wearing" you glance at yourself in the mirror, you put on a shirt with embellishments to look not too plain. You don't get ready for every wedding that you plan.

"Good I bought you one. I just saw this while walking on the street and thought how good this'll look on you" he opens his bag and takes a packet out. He rips it open and gives you the dress.

"And you're still interested in me? The time was enough to fall in love with someone new" you say as if he had ever been in love with you.

"I'm not so easy" he says.

"Tell someone else" you respond with a smug look on your face. He chuckles.

"Now are you gonna change or..." he begins to undo the buttons of your shirt.

You think of taking over for a moment but then let him do it.

You help him pull the shirt down your arms leaving you in your bra. His hand reaches your back and he unhooks your bra.

"Hey..." you hold his hand to stop him.

"What? The dress is padded" you hadn't really noticed even when he was showing you the dress you were just busy looking at him.

Your bra slips off and his hand wraps around your tits. He squeezes them then sucks your nipples one by one, covers your whole chest with small kisses. You feel the wetness growing, you can't get too distracted. You have to go out or everything will fall apart.

His hand goes down your navel and rests between your thighs. Your breath hitches as he presses his fingers against your pussy.

"Oops made you wet. Don't worry will gladly help you with it..." he smirks and you remain numb as he slips his hand inside your panties.

The tip of his middle finger presses against your clit. You whimper.

"I don't have time" you complain.

"Alright" he starts to rub you. Circles his finger around your clit.

You were so wet, so aroused. You started to grind yourself on his hand and suddenly came, your juices gushing, clit throbbing against his finger, thighs shaking, you hold him for support.

"Told ya" he chuckles then pulls his hand away and hands you the dress to wear.

You like the dress, it was complimenting his outfit when you two stand together.

He stands behind you and holds your hand bringing it to his throbbing hardness. You rub your fingers on him a little bit then turn towards him.

"I need to be out there to make sure you can ensure the perfect wedding for your cousin." You touch his cheeks.

"Wait for me here after the reception is over. I'll get here and then I'll make you make up for it" you nod giggling before you leave.

When you left the room, you had no idea this was the last time you were ever going to talk to him.

This was the last time you were ever going to see him.

You did come to the room and wait like he asked but instead of him a girl came.

Said she was just made his fiancé and was supposed to wait for him there like the bride had told her to.

You knew who the girl was. You knew where she sat. She was from a business family too.

In the end, like always you got proved wrong. Money emerged victorious over human emotions or feelings.

You might plan a thousand weddings after that but he will always remain a distinct memory. A mysterious man who won your heart in a way you could never describe.

#jungkook fanfic #jeon jeongguk #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts smut #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook oneshot #bts fanfic #jeongguk #jungkook x you #jungkook imagines #bts jungkook #jungkook angst

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douwatahima · 4 months

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sorry to invoke james somerton again but i just watched his "apology" video and the way he addresses the criticism to his utena video has been scratching at my brain. for this who don't want to watch (which is so so fair), here's what he says:

"we ended up making a lot of videos we didn't want to make because people were asking for them and so there were a lot of videos we made that we didn't want to make and i think those videos are very clear on which ones those were. one of them never got officially released, it was released to patrons. some patrons have shared it to other people before all the videos went private and a lot of people hate the analysis nick and i did on it and so maybe it's good that that never got properly released because maybe it would have hurt people and i don't want that."

so, not directly saying he's talking about the utena video…but he's talking about the utena video lol. the thing that really gets me is like…look. full disclosure. i used to be subscribed to james somerton long before this whole thing blew up. i wasn't necessarily a big fan of his video style, but he talked about a lot of media i enjoy and i liked his analysis (that wasn't really his, but i didn't know that at the time) so i followed him.

the thing about him was he was always asking his followers for shows he should do videos on, especially anime, and then not long after making those posts he would post videos of "things to come" including like…every anime people suggested. not all of these shows ended getting videos made, but the point is james really set himself up as the queer anime video essayist; constantly promising videos about every show people told him they wanted.

and a lot of people loved that about him! a lot of the big names talking about anime on youtube are people doing season by season breakdowns or people talking about big shonen titles, and here was someone consistently pushing out long form analyses on less talked about shows! great! but to find out that not only was a lot of what he said plagiarized, but also that a lot videos were just shat out to appeal to his audience without any care or passion? just to get more views and more money on patreon? that's literally crazy when you're talking about something usually as involved as video essays.

on top of that i'm about 95% certain him doing an utena essay was a patreon tier goal (hence why that video was released there first). he literally heard queer anime fans asking him en masse for a video about one of the best queer anime of all time, decided to set it as a patreon goal, and then literally boxed himself into doing a video on an anime he didn't care about because he promised it to the people who payed him to be the "queer anime guy".

and the thing is he 100% didn't need to do that. he didn't need to "make a lot of videos he didn't want to make because people were asking for them". i follow a ton of video essayists who get requests for videos all the time! that doesn't mean they have to, or even should, make them if they're not passionate about the topic! video essays, when actually done well and with integrity, are hard work. that's why most good video essayists take a lot of time between videos! to think that this guy just took every possible suggestion, dangled them like carrots in front of his audience, that made a bunch of passionless, mediocre videos to solidify his station as the queer video essayist to watch is just…upsetting and disheartening tbh.

anyway if you want some actually good analysis of revolutionary girl utena, my favourites are "is revolutionary girl utena still relevant?" and "why revolutionary girl utena still slaps" by stushi, and "the shadow play gays" podcast (note: this podcast is run on the same feed as another podcast called "bitter jurors". you may have to scroll back a bit to find "shadow play gays", it started in 2021 if that helps, but i promise you it's worth it).

#anime: utena #james somerton #there's obviously more important things in the apology video than this #like him straight up not using the word plagiarism or him throwing his supposed best friend under the bus continually #but this just irked me in a particular way you know?

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word-wytch · 8 months

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Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 14

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 14/? 18k. Series Masterlist

✏︎ An invitation to The Hideout answers some long burning questions.

✏︎ Series Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, true love, smut (18+ mdni), internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)

Chapter CW: kissing, heavy petting, jealousy, protective!eddie, drinking, smoking, fluff

Tuesday, December 10th 1985

Winter crept in like a lamb. It nipped at your ankles when you got out of bed, beckoned you to hibernate in the warm cocoon of soft sheets and heavy blankets. The room was a lightless cave, the sky still as dense as midnight. Feet shuffling blindly at the floor to find your slippers, you clicked on the small lamp atop your nightstand to offer some light to your habitat.

Standard routine — making shadows on the wall as you brushed your teeth, emerging out the door to the dark hallway, squinting under the harsh light of your kitchen. Two eggs over easy. Two pieces of toast. One phone that hung to the right of your small kitchen table like an omen as you dipped the crust into the yolks. Looming. Waiting. You swallowed a feeling with your next sip of coffee; flutters that danced down your throat and settled in the pit of your stomach.

By the time you returned to your bedroom, the sky touched your sheer curtains with the palest blue. Your clothing was already laid out neatly on your dresser, poised like soldiers in a row — thick ribbed stockings; plaid wool skirt; stiff white blouse; cream knit sweater.

As you suited up, stripping yourself of warm pajamas to brace the chill of your formal attire, your eyes drifted to an object on your desk. Powder blue and collecting a fair amount of dust; an IBM Selectric II typewriter. It was more or less a decoration now, pushed against the wall to make room for piles of papers in need of grading. Still, you liked the way it looked; cheery against the drab apartment wall, like something a real writer would have.

It was a trusty old thing, still chugging along despite countless college essays hammered into the grey keys. It had been your only company in the wee hours of many mornings such as this one, only then there had not been sleep to separate you from the night before. Sturdy and dependable, it captured your imagination too, letter by black inked letter.

Fastening the buttons of your blouse in a methodical rhythm, you could almost trick yourself into believing it was any other morning, except today there was something else you needed to do before you left, and the clock on your nightstand let you know in glowing red that your window to do so was closing.

Cold linoleum creaked under your stocking feet as you padded into the kitchen, stomach twisting into knots as you approached the phone. If you were going to do this, it had to be now.

Running your finger down the laminated tabs of the well-loved address book on your counter, you flipped to the section labeled “J”. After scanning a dozen hand-written names, you found the one you were looking for. It was a mess of chalky white-out and hasty scribbles. Last name replaced, same with the phone number and address. You weren’t sure why you didn’t just write it all fresh under “P”, perhaps it was something about not wanting to erase the history entirely.

You took a deep breath and snatched the phone off the receiver. Pressing the cold plastic to your ear, you glanced down at the numbers in blue pen and whispered them quietly to yourself as you slowly, hesitantly, clicked them one by one into the cream button pad on the wall.

You stared across the kitchen in sober contemplation of your life choices as the phone rang. Again. And again. And again, until a familiar, groggy voice answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey! Janet!” you greeted brightly, sounding far too awake for 7:06 AM. In your nervous haste, you almost forgot to tell her who was calling.

“Oh… hey there,” came a hesitant voice on the other line, a sharp squeal cut through the static followed by a hush.

“Hey, um, I know it’s like, super early and totally last minute but I wanted to catch you before I left for work. Listen, I’ve had a hell of a week already and I was wondering—and I totally get it if you can’t, but—well I was wondering if you’d be up for going out tonight. Like say around eight-ish?” You bit your lip and grimaced, twisting the gummy cord around your finger.

The pause was filled with the rattling of tiny fists against plastic. “Oh! Well let’s see,” she said in a voice that was suddenly very awake. “The kids will be asleep by then, or at least they should be,” she chuckled, “and Bob doesn’t go to bed till after eleven anyway, so I’m sure he’ll be fine if I escape for a few hours. I mean I’ll check with him but I really don’t see why not.”

It was equally as promising as it was a relief; the excitement that crept through her voice.

“Great! Yeah, I figured you could probably use a night out.”

“Oh gosh, you don’t even know the half of it,” Janet laughed. “So where were you thinking? You wanna just go to Pal-Joeys again?”

Pacing toward the counter, you braced to offer your suggestion. “Actually, I was thinking we could go to The Hideout, I hear there’s a band playing tonight.”

“The Hideout?” she asked through an incredulous smile.

“I know,” you breathed nervously, “it’s not really our um, regular haunt, but that’s kinda why I want to go, you know? Shake things up a bit. Everything’s just been feeling so… routine lately, you know?”

Janet’s sigh was deep and heavy. “Oh trust me, I know.” A bright coo crackled through the telephone line.

“Like, I kind of want to just…” you coiled your finger deeper into the phone cord, glancing at the glaring red clock above the stove, “I dunno…pretend to be somebody else for a change.”

“You know,” she started, a quiet mischief creeping into her voice, “I could really stand to be somebody else for a night too.”

You paused in your pacing as a smile cracked across your face. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

“Gosh, do you know your birthday was the last time I went out? Seriously! And before that I don’t even remember. Sometimes I look around and it’s like, man I used to be fun. You remember when I was fun, right?”

You chuckled, drifting back to memories of truths and dares, of creeping down her dark basement steps with freshly painted toes. “You still are fun, Janet.”

“Well maybe you can help remind me because sometimes I look in the mirror and I swear I don’t even recognize myself. Really! I swear I see my mother more and more and that’s what’s really terrifying.”

“You mean you don’t see Bloody Mary anymore?”

Janet’s cackle would have woken the whole house had it not been wide awake and eating Cheerios already. “No that’s just at my parents’ house, remember?”

You snorted, leaning back against the counter. “I think we screamed so loud we woke the neighbors. I swear that bathroom is haunted.”

“That’s what I’ve always said! You feel like you’re being watched, right? My parents still don’t believe me. Oh well, not my problem anymore.”

You laughed, the knot in your belly releasing slightly before you glanced at the clock again, 7:13. “Crap, I’ve gotta get going. So I’ll see you at eight tonight? At The Hideout?”

“Yeah, should be fine. I’ll call you if anything changes. Ah!” she squealed, “I can’t wait.”

“Glad you’re excited,” you chuckled, gripping the smooth plastic. “Ok, see you later.”

“Bye now!”

You hung the phone back on the receiver and stood in the blaring silence of your kitchen, frozen by the impact of your choices. It was real now. In a matter of about thirteen hours you would be getting in your car, driving down a dark road, and parking it at a seedy bar where you would see Eddie for the first time in public. Your feet felt glued to the floor, but as the clock blinked to 7:15, you willed them to move.

Before taking the dark road that led to a seedy bar, you would first need to get in your car and take another road — to work.

You cursed the cold. Cursed it as you hurried across the parking lot to find your car covered in fractals of frost. Cursed it vehemently as you worked the glass with your feeble plastic scraper, shaving holes just big enough to see out of your dashboard and rear window as the clock on your wrist ticked on minute by precious minute. You cursed it audibly when you turned the key and the engine whirred, and whined, and refused to turn over. It must have heard you, because after the fifth time of stomping on the brake and snapping your wrist forward, the engine roared to life.

You rode in on a wave; a daze like the fog that escaped your lungs in shallow breaths. The sun rose above the frozen farmlands, casting its golden-pink light across the empty fields. Out here the roads stretched on for miles. Flat and straight, with little variance in elevation. There was nowhere to look but straight ahead. No curves to surprise you, just you and the rumble of the salt-dusted road, bumping along in silence as an anxious fog rolled across the landscape of your mind.

A sea of students swept you through the front doors of Hawkins High and into the bustling office. Amidst the flurry of ringing phones and voices settling into the cadence of their roles, you grabbed your punch card and stamped the date and time in line with the rest. Pushing the metal handle of the heavy glass door, you exited the humming reprieve of the office and into the din of the main hall. Your boots made hollow clicks against the glossy tile, wind at your face as you marched forward, dodging roughhousing students and hall monitors rushing toward them.

Goodness was a mantle. A strap that dug into your shoulder; heavy with books, and papers, and responsibility. You wedged your thumb beneath it, shrugging it up onto the padded wool collar of your coat as you strode on, vision locked ahead as chaos swirled around you.

Your mug left a ring on the big desk; a remnant from where you’d sloshed it coming down the hall. You’d tried to be careful; slow and deliberate in your pacing when you left the teachers lounge with it, but when a blur of wild curls drew your gaze, your footing faltered. At least you missed your shoes.

Coat hung on its solitary hook and grade book stationed at the center of the desk, you took your place in front of it. Clutching your clipboard, you glanced across the rows of desks, down at the rows of names, beside the rows of boxes that your green pen would fill with neat little P’s and A’s like it did every day. Bell after bell, swipe after swipe of your eraser at the board, the fresh sticks of chalk dwindled to nubs. Question after question, the patience in your voice grew thin.

Between the bells at the top of fourth period, you stood poised like a sentinel outside the door to your classroom. Arms folded across your knit sweater, you sighed, shifting your weight back and forth between your tired feet, offering gentle smiles as your students filed through the threshold of the door. You smelled him before you saw him; the waft of leather and cigarettes with notes of shampoo more prominent than usual.

Against the flow of traffic, Eddie Munson brought his salt-licked combat boots to a halt in front of you. Thumb hooked under the heavy strap of his backpack, he offered you a smile so broad it crinkled the corners of his eyes and made your knees want to give.

You tightened your arms around your sweater, over the hard plastic of your faculty lanyard, and breathed a shy, girlish greeting. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he mimicked, shifting his weight with a less than subtle restlessness as his dark eyes drank you in. They darted back and forth between yours, plush lips parted and primed with words. You felt them brimming impatiently behind his eyes, saw them in the pink flash of his tongue as it darted out to wet his lips.

Out here in the bustling hallway, with eyes that watched and voices that echoed off the polished tile, Eddie edged a bold foot closer, dove in, and ghosted the shell of your ear with his burning question.

“Will I see you tonight?”

The words were a low, hot rumble — rippling from your ear down your spine, pooling deep in your belly. His heat thawed your shoulder as he hovered there, lingering for each aching second it took you to eke out your response.

“Yeah,” you whispered into his curls.

Pulling back with a blinding grin, he tipped his head and ducked into the door of your classroom.

The slam of a locker made you jump. Arms crossed to shield your pounding heart, you stood there in the middle of it all, swimming in a sea of passing bodies, struggling to keep your head above the waves. It surged with images of a lighted stage, of bottles, and tables, and a dark corner for both of you to hide in. The bell echoed loudly down the hall, shrill enough to wake you from the dream you were surely having. Donning your mask, you took a deep breath and dove in, shutting the door behind you.

______

Eddie swung open the heavy back doors to his van, piercing the darkness with the dull yellow overhead light. Gravel crunched under his boots as he leaned in to grab the first amp from the stack, like a pile of black Christmas presents awaiting unwrapping. The night air bit at his fingers, stars twinkling in the patches where the clouds gave way above the tree line. Tightening his grip around the thick gummy handle, he hoisted it and followed the pale path the moon offered out of the side parking lot toward the patio behind The Hideout.

It wasn’t much; a stout fence in dire need of a paint job that caged in a few meager picnic tables. They still had umbrellas in the middle, wrapped tightly like mummies for the winter. He knew the back door would be open, it always was. Turning the weathered knob with his free hand, he welcomed the heat that wafted toward him. He could almost say he welcomed the piss smell coming from the bathrooms as his heavy boots thumped down the dark linoleum hallway, but that would be a stretch. Accustomed was a better word. Familiar was a better word.

Stale beer and cigarettes soon drowned it out as he entered the dimly lit bar, stopping to plunk the heavy amp down to his left on the stage, which was little more than a raised platform painted black. The thud drew the attention of the five usual suspects at the bar, and Eddie wondered which one of them was responsible for playing “Free Bird” on the jukebox.

Bill raised his hand, tipping his baseball cap back in a friendly nod as his fingers splayed. “‘Ey, Eddie!”

He returned the gesture of a single raised hand and flashed a smile before turning down the hall again. Eddie took a deep breath at the door to calm his pounding heart before pressing it open. He couldn’t believe he had been crazy enough to suggest something like this. That soon enough, you would be perched atop one of those rickety stools at a tall, sticky table, watching his every move, listening to his every note. The chill of the night air was a welcome thing, sobering and distracting from the heat that was creeping up the collar of his thick, leather coat. As the gravel crunched under his boots again, headlights blinded his vision.

He could hear the bass pounding from the outside of the small sedan as it rolled up beside his van, followed promptly by another. After a moment of squinting, the headlights shut off with the rumble of the engine, leaving him in the darkness once again. Seatbelts clicked and laughter emerged from the open doors as his friends tumbled out into the parking lot.

“What the fuck took you guys so long? We left at the same time,” Eddie groused.

Dave lumbered over and sighed, a smirk playing on his broad features in the moonlight. “Jeff had to take a shit and he parked me in.”

Jeff rolled his eyes, swinging the door shut with a huff as Gareth laughed into the night air.

Eddie sighed, glancing toward the tall stack of amps and drum heads sitting backlit in the rear of his van. “Ok, well we’ve got like forty minutes to get our shit together so start hauling.”

Dave groaned, cracking his back with a twist of his hefty torso. “Ugh, can you at least let me hit this doob before you put me to work?”

On any other night, Eddie would have welcomed the suggestion, but his nerves were traveling to his hands now and he itched to move them. “Dude, it takes us like an hour to set up, we don’t have time right now. We can smoke after we get this shit on stage.”

Jeff quirked his brows suspiciously, “Dude, since when do you care that we’re on time for anything?”

“Yeah seriously, we’re late like every week,” Gareth added.

Eddie balked, searching for the answer in the treeline, one that excluded you. “It just—if we’re ever gonna play anywhere else besides here we’re gonna have to start getting our shit together.”

There was a lukewarm pause as the band considered his answer. By the looks on their faces, Eddie wasn’t entirely sure if they bought it, but it was the best he could come up with and the statement was true. Dave broke the silence with an exasperated sigh. “Come on. I’ve been jonesing since we got to Gareth’s. His mom is so anal we can’t even smoke outside.”

“That’s ‘cause you reek when you come back in,” Gareth defended.

“At least I don’t reek of ass like you,” Dave chortled.

Jeff didn’t miss a beat. “That’s debatable.”

Gareth’s cackle wafted into the frigid air as he pointed a pale finger at Dave.

“You wanna find out the hard way?” Dave’s eyes glimmered wildly as he hooked an arm around Gareth’s shoulders, locking him into a power noogie position.

Gravel shuffled under their stumbling feet. “Let go of me you asshole,” Gareth gritted through a strangled laugh. Jeff only egged them on, howling uproariously like he had tickets to the show.

Eddie dragged his hands down his face with a deep, seething breath as Dave ground his thick knuckles into Gareth’s mop of hair, kicking up rocks and pivoting as Gareth attempted to pry away. This was his circus, his monkeys, and he would have to step up and be the ring leader if they were going to take the stage at all tonight. “CUT IT OUT!” he hollered.

Dave paused, arm still locked around Gareth’s neck. “Come on, we’re just having a little fun. You remember fun, right?”

Gareth groaned weakly, looking up at Eddie with pathetic eyes. “Who’s we?” he choked.

Eddie’s expression didn’t budge from its scowl. With a roll of his eyes and a resigned huff, Dave released his arm and Gareth stumbled backward, gasping. “Fine, captain killjoy.”

A heavy plume of fog left his nostrils as Eddie stormed toward the back of his van, weaving his arm through a thick ring of cables to rest on his shoulder before hoisting another amp from the stack. Gravel shuffled behind him as the others followed suit.

You were risking a lot to come here. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint you.

______

The silence gnawed at you, filled you with an itching discomfort as you thumbed your dresser knobs. Staring into your open shirt drawer, you faced off with your biggest decision yet — what to wear tonight.

The chasm of options laid before you in neat, folded rows. An excavation site of cardigans, and turtle necks, and things you hadn’t unearthed in years. You ran your fingers through the layers of folded cotton, peeling them back with deep consideration.

Nagging thoughts crept in like whispers over the softly ticking clock, pinball plunger pulled and ready to fire. With a determined huff, you stepped back from your dresser and padded down the hallway, out into the living room.

Your skirt pooled around your stocking feet as you crouched down in front of the long wooden cabinet that housed your records. Fingers dancing over the worn cardboard spines, you flipped them softly forward as you perused one by one, walking steadily until one of them fell open to a scene; a painting of a man hunched over with sticks tied to his back that hung on a wall of peeling paper. You paused, pulling it out to scan the track list. This would do.

Placing the the record softly on the felt pad, you lowered the needle to the ridges, and with the press of a button, a crackle roused the room.

Hey hey momma said the way you move

Gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove

A smile, like a crocus peeking up from the snow, bloomed across your face. You cranked the volume, wrapping yourself in a sound that would carry to your bedroom.

Your fingers found the tiny metal tab behind your waist, and with a downward tug of the zipper, your wool skirt became a puddle on the floor. Peeling back the layers, your tight sweater joined it in a heap, your thick stockings lay deflated on the pile, the buttons of your stiff blouse worked free until it was a crumpled afterthought. The chill that kissed your skin was a welcome thing. Goosebumps raised like the current flowing through you as your near-naked silhouette danced across the wall to approach the open drawer once more.

Emboldened with a curious delight, you began to dig. Past the crust of crisp blouses, beneath the squishy mid-layer of cardigans, down into the sub-layer of camisoles and tees, deeper and deeper until finally your fingers made purchase with a soft treasure.

It fell open as you unearthed it, the solid black gone grey from washing, the white letters and arched angel cracked and faded: Led Zeppelin — United States of America 1977.

It happened on a Sunday in April, which began as most Sundays did, with you hunched over your powder blue typewriter in a race between the clock and the keys. You had it down to a science. At the speed you were typing, a rough draft could be finished by dinner, and the final could be churned out by cutting into a few hours of your sleep. A worthy sacrifice, as your final grade was on the finish line. This, like countless others, was how you planned to spend your day — until your roommate found you.

You remembered the way she leaned against the wooden frame of your bunk bed, amused, watching the paper you hammered with black-inked letters grow longer and longer. Finally she spilled it; as of an hour ago, she was down one boyfriend and up one ticket, and now it had your name on it. When she dangled it between you and the tidy rows of text, your hands froze over the keys.

You eyed the invitation — temptation printed on a neat, orange strip. Free admission, at a price.

The show was sold out. It had been for a long time.

Your class was at 9:00 AM tomorrow. A late paper took twenty percent off your grade.

You loved the band dearly, had a bigger crush on Robert Plant than you’d openly admit to anyone. Fights had broken out over tickets nation wide. You had no idea when they would play the states again.

The clock ticked on beside you, the long hand grazed past three. Maybe you could churn out the rest in the next few hours. Maybe the rough draft would be enough. But the realist in you knew neither would happen if you seized the ticket. Your grade would never recover, your streak of straight As you’d kept since grade school would come to an end. Your GPA would dip for the semester.

On April 17th, 1977, you left your paper sitting unfinished in the typewriter to see Led Zeppelin play Market Square Arena. You didn’t know it then, but it was the last time they ever would.

On April 18th at 9:00 AM, you showed up to class with empty hands and a brand new shirt.

You had altered your souvenir; taken scissors to the collar so that it draped off your shoulder. Time and your washing machine had made Swiss cheese of the bottom hem, so you cropped it. You admired the handiwork as it draped off you now, the way the black strap of your bra peeked out from the slope of your shoulder like a coy secret.

Pulling open the lower drawer—opened far less frequently than you would like—your knuckles grazed the bottom of the smooth wood interior as you peeled back the layers of folded denim. A crease of black jumped out from the sea of blue, and you examined it. It had a nice worn-in fade for only having lived in your dresser a few years, a flatteringly high waist, and most importantly, tapered legs that could easily be tucked into the tall, black boots sitting in the back of your closet. Your bare legs welcomed the barrier against the chill, and you caught a glance at your rear as you hiked them snugly upward. They hugged you in all the right places, as the music electrified the air, you transformed.

A vision of you — sprawled across a blanket on the quad with your face in a book. Making shadows on your dorm room wall while transmuting fantasies to black-inked pages. Strolling down a lamp-lit street, face to the stars, fueling your wild imagination. Here, in your reflection, the ghost of you looked back.

You painted her darker than normal, swapping the usual chapstick for a deep, dusty red exhumed from the bottom of your makeup bag. Eyes smoked and cheeks dusted, you drew out the beauty from angles of your face with every stroke.

Coat donned and purse in hand, you paused at the front door, glancing over your shoulder, down the hallway, toward your coffee table piled with papers. There was another ghost of you here — tucked into her slippers and cozy robe with the voices from the television as her only company, flicking her green grading pen down rows of questions.

On December 10th, 1985, you left the papers sitting on your coffee table to see Corroded Coffin play The Hideout. With a decided twist of the handle, you pushed out into the cold night air.

Light pooled in sparse puddles as your boots echoed off the rough pavement. Stillness whispered on the wind as crisp remnants of fall scuttled across the asphalt. The apartments behind you were a tapestry of glowing squares, pictures of the rest of Hawkins tucking into their slippers and washing their dishes, grabbing their blankets and turning on their televisions.

You grabbed your keys and unlocked your car, and when it roared to life with a swift flick of your wrist, a strange exhilaration coursed through you.

It rose like the moon over the barren fields, thrumming in your chest, spreading to your limbs, alight with something wild and teeming as you drove past rows of lighted windows—vignettes of tired routine—and stopped at the same red sign you did this morning. Your fingers twitched over the turn signal leaver — an impulse to flick up, to turn right, to settle into the familiar rhythm of your muscle memory. This time you pressed down, pressed your foot to the gas, and cranked the wheel left.

Cruising boldly down the straight and narrow road, fields and farmland faded in your rearview mirror and soon there were trees on the horizon; dense and dark. Gripping the wheel as the silhouette closed in, the corners of your mouth drew upward, pulled by a wild, awakened force. Headlights illuminated pale, naked limbs. Eyes beamed back at you from the shadows. You cranked the volume on your stereo, and as you braced for your first bend, something deep within you—dormant and restless—howled.

______

The water was so cold it burned. Eddie cursed the old plumbing, instantly regretting having the decency to wash his hands in the first place. Soap just barely rinsed, he twisted the lime-scaled handles and shut it off. With a trembling hand, he grabbed one of the last paper towels. Gareth’s kick drum echoed down the narrow hallway, thundering just like his chest. He glanced at his watch again. 7:56.

Eddie took a ragged breath, chucking the crumpled paper at the overflowing trash bin in the corner. It bounced dejectedly off the wall and onto the dirty tile. With a deadpan glare, he left it where it lay. Hands barely dry, he felt for the flask in his pocket. Screwing the tiny cap and flicking it open, he tipped it back. Eddie welcomed the burn. It chased down his throat and settled in his stomach with a warmth that radiated, instantly numbing his nerves.

Meeting his own eyes in the tiny, smudged mirror, he gave himself a final glance over. His curls were holding; fresh and clean from this morning, fluffed by the icy wind in the trips from van to stage.

Here, in the dingy confines of The Hideout, words like freak and loser lost their stick. Words he could shake like a dog at the door. He’d fashioned them like armor in the daytime; a shield in hallways and in lunch lines. What was stickier were feelings. The feelings that came with chewed pens and answers left blank. The feeling of lectures slipping like a sieve through his brain. The feeling of stares and stifled laughter, of staring numbly at the board, of filling the silence with bullshit instead of an answer.

Microphone feedback squeaked outside. The dull, heavy walk of a bassline. Laughter. Cymbals. That kick drum again. Eddie took another swig, searing the flutters in his stomach.

He wanted to be good for you. Seen under stage lights instead of fluorescents.

Good like an answer he knew.

You saw the sign first, peeking from behind the trees — simple, effective, and yellowed with time. The Hideout: a hole in the woods. Tucked around the bend you now braced against, it sat like a neon beacon. The chipped, grey exterior faded into the shadows, leaving only the holy glow of Budweiser and Miller Lite signs to guide you to the promised land.

Pulling into a spot along the narrow parking strip, you faced off with your destination. Looming and real. Frozen as reality stared back at you in the glare of your blinding headlights, you gripped the steering wheel and looked around. There were a few other cars beside you, but none of them Janet’s. Around the left of the building there appeared to be more parking, and the stout silhouette of a two-tone van you did know the owner of. Pinballs hammered in your chest.

When you arrange a time to meet someone, you are always punctual. Perhaps a life organized by bells on timers trained you to be this way, but the thought of entering alone filled you with dread, and part of you wondered whether you should wait out here for her. Your hands were starting to shake, and not from the cold.

The list of crazy things you had done in your life was a laughably short one, but this made the top by a long shot. As you turned the radio down and sat in the wake of your rumbling engine, the questions grew louder. Serious questions about where you thought this night would go, about where you wanted it to go and if you would truly go there.

Suddenly your headlights felt too bright, like a beacon drawing eyes from the woods, or even more terrifying, eyes from the building. You promptly flicked them off and waited, staring dead ahead at the chipped grey siding. It was fine. You were fine. At least you could no longer see your breath. You could hide here as long as you wanted.

“Alright man, it’s doob o’clock,” Dave said with a satisfied stretch as he took in the stage setup.

Eddie ripped another frantically scribbled setlist out of his spiral notebook and shoved it at him. “No it’s eight fifteen and we still need to do soundcheck,” Eddie scathed, glancing at the door. “You can start by plugging your mic in, Jesus Christ.”

Dave huffed annoyedly through his nose, squatting down to find the cord with exaggerated difficulty. “Yes sir,” he mocked. Eddie shot back a testing glare. “Dude, what’s up with you tonight? You’ve been on one since Gareth’s.”

“Yeah, you ok man?” asked Jeff.

The knots tightened in his stomach as the attention of all three of them closed in around him. “Just—let’s just get our shit together…please,” he deflected.

Glancing around frantically, you wondered, for the hundredth time, where the hell Janet was. You couldn’t be that surprised that a woman with two small children was late, but your exhaust was making a smokescreen of the parking strip, and you wondered if anyone inside had noticed, if anyone could hear the low rumble of your engine and questioned why this strange woman was idling. With an irritated sigh, you turned the key, leaving you in deafening silence and leeching cold. You could hear your breathing now, your pounding heart, the squeaking of leather as you shifted in your seat. What one of the kids got sick? What if she called after you left?

What if she isn’t coming?

Eddie’s eyes lingered at the door as he clicked the pedals with his feet, plucking a soft, testing melody into the mic. His watch glared under the stage lights, confidence fleeting with every minute that ticked by. Gareth snapped his foot petal with a deep thud. Dave walked out a bassline before squealing feedback made the whole bar flinch.

The strum of a chord made you jump. Booming and electric, you heard it through the walls. They were starting. They were starting and you weren’t there. Gripping the steering wheel, you tossed your head back in an anguished sigh. You sure as hell weren’t going to stand him up. As you glanced around the parking lot one last desperate time, the bitter conclusion rose like bile — you may have to do this alone. Seatbelt clicking under your gloved thumb, you steeled yourself for the cold, for the eyes of strangers in a strange new place. With a decided pull of the handle, the door opened to the frigid night air, and you emerged from the heat into the unknown.

You met your reflection in the glass of the entrance as your hand gripped the weathered knob. Pinballs fired off at lightning speed — a jackpot multi-ball bonanza. Checking your hair one last time with eyes locked on your own, you turned the handle with a determined sigh.

A bell dinged above your head, and winter’s chill gusted in on your heels.

The whole room turned at once — at you. You, from the front of the classroom. You, from behind the big desk. You, in the doorway of The Hideout. Across a dark sea of scattered tables, poised on an altar of sound and light, Eddie Munson smiled at you — brighter than all of it.

The door fell shut behind you. Hot under the gaze of what seemed like the entire bar, it suddenly felt like you were the one on stage. Standing there like a deer in headlights in your long wool coat and clean black boots, you surely must have looked as out of place as you felt. Shoulders rolling back to counter your thrumming nerves, your boots left the rug and found the tacky linoleum as you approached the bar that lined the left wall.

Eddie busied his shaking hands with tapping another test melody into his mic, pausing when he heard a voice over his right shoulder.

“Is that…?” Jeff pointed toward the back of your head.

Gareth’s eyes lit up in recognition. Dave peered over with a shit-eating grin. “Did you invite her?” he mouthed.

Eddie’s face betrayed him, burning like it did under the fluorescents. Burning to greet you at the bar, for the liberty to patronize it, to offer you something more than his aching gaze.

“No,” Eddie lied, “but I may have told her we play here on Tuesdays.” He struck the strings with the weight of his frustration, drowning out any further questions with the opening chords to the first song on the setlist. The others took their cue with chuckles and shaking heads. Heart pounding like the kick drum behind him, Eddie’s fingers found the frets, tugging a muscle memory from deep within as his eyes stayed fixed on you.

There was an older man in a sweatshirt behind the bar. The owner, you figured, by the way he was standing — arms crossed, stance wide, unafraid to take up space. By the way he was looking at you, like he wondered what would drive a new face to his establishment on a random Tuesday night in December. From the glances the others passed between them, the feeling seemed unanimous.

“How can I help you?” he half shouted against the chugging chords, leaning against the bar with a curious smile.

You braced with your brightest grin, placing your gloved hands down flat on the waxy bar. “Hi! Yes—um,” you scanned the selection under the neon lights, the liquor bottles of all shapes and sizes reflected in the dirty mirror behind them. The bar back was tightly cluttered with old stickers and hand-written notes taped behind the cash register, with half-empty bottles of bitters and bobble heads nodding to the palpable vibration. Having no interest in standing there awkwardly while he fixed you a cocktail, you selected a bottle of Coors.

He nodded and ducked to open the steel, magnet-plastered fridge beneath the cash register.

Your gaze, like a magnet, drew back to the stage. It was all you could do just to watch him — the way his curls fell gently at his cheek, the way they bounced with every strum. There was a tension lingering just under the curve of his lashes. The music was fast and loud, purely instrumental. You recognized nothing about it but the genre. Head dipped in concentration as his left hand tapped a frantic melody into the frets, he raised his eyes bravely to meet yours.

He wasn’t the only man staring. It was hard to ignore; the man in the baseball cap to your right as you stared right through his line of sight. You pinched off your gloves and shoved them in your pockets to occupy your hands.

A bottle cap plinked against the bar top. “Two bucks,” the owner stated, slinging a towel over his shoulder.

You fished through your purse, feeling those eyes on you as you opened your wallet, as you slid the bills right under his gaze across the waxy counter. You snatched the cold bottle and raised it to your lips. Turning over your shoulder, your eyes clung to Eddie on stage, to his tendons as they flexed to pick a rhythm at the strings. His was gaze a soft and yearning thing, a contrast to the sharp and punchy chords that left his fingers.

“You know these guys?” the man in the cap asked finally, pointing to the stage. Your eyes shot toward him in surprise, lips still pursed at the bottle. He had that working man sort of look. Average features, subtle crows feet, a whisper of sandy stubble across his strong jaw. His grey-blue eyes were gentle, but brimming with a heated curiosity.

You used the much needed swig to buy yourself a second. Did you? The cold, bready fizz sparkled down your throat. You supposed you didn’t have to specify how you were acquainted. “Yeah,” you answered simply, plugging your mouth with the bottle like a dam.

A bell rattled behind you. Grateful for any disruption, you whipped around quickly to break the connection. Janet lit up as soon as she saw you, a mixture of relief and apology playing out on her face as she strode across the room. Tight blonde curls emerged from her lowering leopard print hood. “Oh my god I’m so sorry,” she lamented, arms opening to embrace you.

Relief washed through you like a warm buzz. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it!” you said as your nose took a dive in her soft, perfumed curls.

“Sarah would not stop crying, it took forever for me to finally get her to sleep. I swear babies have a sixth sense, they always know when you have fun plans,” she said through a laugh. Her lashes were long and thick with mascara, eyeshadow a solid sky blue so vibrant that it popped even in the dim neon glow.

Janet ordered a margarita. There was nothing new to speak of, really, over the electric roar of the band, but you tried to listen. Intently, you tried to listen to the new words her son was saying, to offer some lukewarm update about how work was going, but your eyes had their own agenda.

The rolled cuffs of Eddie’s tight, acid-washed jeans bunched against the pull tabs of his boots as he tapped the rhythm with his heel. There was no jacket for him to strain against, no flannel to constrict him, no sleeves on his T-shirt in December. It was more than you’d seen of him yet. Ink flexed with each generous swell of his bicep, and with every attack, he would flash you his ribs through the hand-hacked holes.

“Mmm,” Janet mumbled, sipping off the top of the very full, salt-rimmed rocks glass. “Come on, let’s get cozy,” she said with a wink and gestured toward the tables. The air was thick with smoke wafting from the bikers at the bar. Eddie tapped out another lick and peered through a few stray curls as you followed her across the room to a high top, back and center.

You wanted to be closer. Close enough to see the umber of his eyes, the ridges of his knuckles as they plucked the strings. There were a few shorter tables down in front, back about five feet from the stage. But as the beams of light bounced off the glossy wood and over the seats in blinding white, you were grateful for the shadows ten feet would afford you.

Janet stripped off her coat to reveal a tight black dress with long sleeves and sequined, padded shoulders. It hugged just above the knees of her sheer hose, punctuated with sharp ankle boots.

“Look at you all dressed up! You look stunning.” You meant it, she really did.

Janet’s smile was a shy deflection, but hiding just beneath it, a glimmer of belief. “Thanks, this thing’s been sitting in my closet for like a year now. Can you believe it? I just felt like, you know, if I’m going out I’m gonna dress up goddamn it,” she laughed, punctuating with a slap against the table. “We coulda gone to Benny’s, I still woulda worn it.”

You laughed, for the first time since you’d talked to her that morning. Unbuttoning your coat, you let it drape over the metal back of the stool behind you.

“You’re not looking too shabby yourself,” Janet said with a wink before taking a sip.

“Honestly I’ll take any excuse I can get to dress down,” you said with a sheepish huff, propping your elbows on the sticky table before bringing the bottle to your lips.

A nervous crackle wound its way through Eddie’s stomach at the vision of you. You, perched on a stool in a dive bar. You, in jeans and a t-shirt. You, arching forward just enough to grace him with a sliver of your back. It was real — you, here. He soured a note, and those words he shook off came creeping back in as he fumbled through the next lick. But you didn’t seem to notice. You propped your cheek against your knuckles and let the warmth of your eyes usher his doubts away.

When the song came to a ringing conclusion, Janet’s cheer was uninhibited, clapping her hands above her head. It drew eyes from the couple seated at one of the lower tables, from the bikers at the bar, from the band. Your applause was more demure, but you couldn’t mask the brilliance of your smile.

“Thank you, thank you,” Eddie said into the microphone. “Looks like we really have a crowd tonight. Seven drunks.”

The room erupted with hollers and cheers.

The bassist muttered something to the other guitarist and the two shared a laugh, casting their eyes towards you. Suddenly your face grew very hot. Of course they recognized you, Jeff was in your second period class. You anticipated this, and yet it was the realness of it all that shook you — the hard stool beneath you, the stares you could feel as your finger idly traced the cold condensation on the glass. Pinballs fired off at rapid speed. You drowned them with a tip of the bottle.��

Eddie shifted, clicking the pedals with his foot. “Ok, so this next one is uh, definitely not an original.” He breathed a laugh into the microphone, glancing up at you — at your shoulders, hunched in shy defense, at your worried brow and downcast gaze. He wished he could reach across the room, lift your chin with his words and draw you from your shell. “Anyway, you’ll uh, probably recognize this one,” he said, to you.

Eddie nodded to the band, counting off silently before they struck a chord together — a low, droning thing, gritty and slow as the bass walked steadily over the foundation. Eddie swayed back and forth, rocking in time with the beat like a march, resting his heavy-lidded gaze on you. Across the divide of scattered seats, you — at the small table, saw him — on the big stage. His nimble fingers struck the chords with an ardent conviction, and the ice in you began to thaw.

Suddenly the beat changed pace. Gareth smacked his drum sticks together to count off, and the first two chords sparked instant recognition. A smile rose up in you — a wild and thrumming thing, radiant and rising until it cracked through.

You knew what was coming. Two chords, quiet taps for a count of sixteen, and then those two chords again, like a one-two punch, booming and building with anticipation. Again, and again, as the energy rose in the room. You caught the wicked glint in his eyes as his hands—those hands that fidgeted and fumbled with dog-eared pages and chewed up pens—wielded power. A surge of electricity swirled through your stomach, crackled because you knew what was next.

Eddie took a deep breath, and opened his mouth.

Generals gathered in their masses

Colors. Warm and bright, tingling like a shockwave from your chest down to your seat.

Just like witches at black masses

In your secret daydreams, you often wondered what his voice sounded like in song.

Evil minds that plot destruction

Tried to guess from his deep hums and brilliant laughter.

Sorcerers of death’s construction

Now, it suspended in the air like a battle cry, reaching out across the chasm of tables and chairs.

In the fields the bodies burning

Surging like a wildfire.

As the war machine keeps turning

Swirling through the darkness like a strange magic.

Death and hatred to mankind

Reaching out like it wanted to touch you.

Poisoning their brainwashed minds

And so you let it.

Oh lord, yeah!

The music rocked and swelled. Like a balm reverberating through the air, it softened the hunch of your shoulders. Like an antidote, it dissolved the knot in your stomach. Like an arrow, it pierced the shell of you.

Janet took a generous sip of her margarita and bobbed her head to the rhythm. You caught her gaze from across the table and shared a laugh, a mutual knowing through squinted eyes and shaking heads that this was, in fact, a Tuesday night in December, and the two of you were here.

As the cold drink warmed your limbs, you became acquainted with the hard curve of the stool beneath you, with the of rings left behind on the glossy table, with the crowded ashtray. Acquainted with the smoke that wafted through the air and the darkness that enveloped you like a blanket. The music settled over the room, and as you settled into that heavy buzz, you started to get the feeling you might actually enjoy yourself tonight.

Janet needed no convincing. Her first margarita went down easy, leaving nothing but the ice and her hot pink lipstick on the rim before they finished their fourth song. When she returned from the bar with one in each hand, she placed the extra in front of you. Her treat, convinced they were better than Pal Joey’s, insisting that you try it even with a few sips still lingering in your bottle.

It surprised you — the balance of lime, and liquor, and something else you couldn’t quite place. It surprised you how it easy it melted the tension in your stomach, how it encouraged you to lean in a little more, to let your shoulders drop.

Eddie noticed it, peeking out from under the coyly dipping collar of your shirt; bare and soft as you leaned against the table — your shoulder. He missed a note. Cursing silently, he glanced down at his fingers and tapped into that deep, subconscious part of his brain again where they knew just where to go. But when he closed his eyes to find it, the image remained painted to his lids — a ripened fruit, tempting but too far to taste. Across it, a stripe of black hazard tape, a trail he itched to follow.

There was a hunger in you, stirring more with every song, with every decadent flash of his pale ribs. He was good. Stadium good. Those nimble fingers tapped the frets, making them sing in a way that made you wish you were wire and wood, looking at you in a way that made you think he wished the same. He stroked the neck of his instrument with a reverent touch, attacked the strings with a holy power, like a wingless angel with a spotlight halo. You whispered a silent prayer, venerating him from your faraway pew in the only way you could — with your eyes.

The animal stirred in its icy den, roused by the warmth of his voice as it stretched across the bar. It stirred in that place you rarely acknowledged, rarely indulged as you considered what other talents his hands might have. You considered the shades of those sighs and swallows he took before painting the air, considered what they might sound like if he showed you. It settled and throbbed in that low, blooming place, and you smothered the feeling with a cross of your legs.

Busying yourself with what remained of your beer, you shifted your shoulders to face him directly, leaning your free arm against the metal back of the stool with an ease that Eddie considered looked almost as good on you as the shirt did. Your lips lingered on the rim of the bottle before parting with a soft pop. He swallowed.

There was a gap between you; a sea of scattered tables and wide open ears and eyes amongst them. What could he possibly say from his position? From a microphone on stage? A thousand words ached on the tip of his tongue and he swallowed them with a sloppy chug of water as the applause bought him a moment to consider.

The white lettering across your chest jumped out at him from the shadows like a bright idea. Eddie swiped droplets from his mouth and turned to his bandmates, bringing them into a huddle as the noise drowned out what he was saying. Whatever it was, after some deliberation, they seemed in agreement about it.

You hadn’t seen Janet like this since the summer between your junior and senior year of college. She was always a happy drunk; talkative and bubbly, spilling over with laughter and the sort of wild enthusiasm that a child at a carnival might have.

“I wanna dance,” she said longingly, glancing toward the stage as she slumped in her seat.

“Maybe we can go to a club next time,” you joked as you downed the remainder of your sweating drink.

The band assumed their positions again. Eddie tapped the pedals with his feet and rolled his shoulders back with a deep, collecting breath. His eyes found yours across the room, brimming with such a longing you wondered anyone else could sense it too. After the longest second, he snapped his head over his shoulder with a steely conviction and nodded off a count before making his attack — the opening riff to Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love”.

Your hands shot to your face.

Suddenly Janet perked up, inspired by the catchy rhythm and her own suggestion. “We should dance! Will you dance with me?”

You balked, shrinking down. “There’s like… six people here! I don’t think it’s really that kind of—”

“Oh come on, please? What’s there to lose, huh?”

Oh, only my last remaining shred of dignity in front of my students. But you couldn’t say that. “Janet,” you hissed. “We are not—I can’t—”

Her three margaritas had a different opinion. They reached across the table and grabbed your hand. “Come on, live a little! That’s what we came here to do, right?”

You buried your face in your other. The truth was you wanted to. You wanted a closeup of that smart smirk, of the sweat beading down his temple as he strummed the punchy chords he hand-picked just for you. You wanted the fantasy, the memory, the experience. It was convincing — her pouting pink lips and pleading eyes, almost as convincing as the tequila coursing through your veins. The truth was you left your better judgement at home on the coffee table. To her giddy satisfaction, you surrendered. Dragging you from your seat, she led you to the front of the stage.

Eddie’s smile could have blinded you, even through the shy web of your fingers. Cheers erupted from the bar, from the whole band, as Janet shimmied her sequined shoulders to the beat.

Eddie opened his mouth again, this time with an ardor you could feel in your bones.

You need cooling, baby I’m not fooling

He crouched down to level with your eyes. I’m gonna send ya back to schooling

You lowered your hand to mask the girlish grin that cracked across your face.

Way down inside, honey you need it

They were breathtaking up close — his eyes. Sparkling with an energy you’d never seen before. Rich umber alight with something you couldn’t quite place, too mesmerized by the promise his tongue wove through the air.

I’m gonna give you my love

I’m gonna give you my love… oh!

He straightened with a backward toss of his head, and you found the word you were looking for in the droplets that flung from his curls. Power.

Wanna whole lotta love?

Janet—having an absolute field day over the spectacle—offered you her hand like she wanted to tango. Freeing your face with a brave sigh, you accepted with a slap of your palm in hers. She tugged with a childish delight, and you took your cue — spinning into her waiting arm and shooting back out with a flourish dredged up from some long forgotten place. The room became a blur of sound and light, of cheers from the bar and the stage. You stilled to find your footing, landing on his eyes.

You’ve been learning, and baby I’ve been yearning

He dipped down again. All them good times baby, baby, I’ve been lear-er-nin’, he punctuated with a shake of his head. He could see the whole vision of you, bright and clear under the stage lights. A wildness lingering just behind your eyes, a fragment unseen until now. It pounded at the cage of your chest, rose up in the shallow breaths you caught before Janet snatched you away again. He swore—silently on a deep inhale—that he would do everything in his power to coax it out of you.

Way, way down inside, oh honey you need it

I’m gonna give you my love

You couldn’t remember the last time you really danced. The last time you felt a rhythm with your body and followed its blind inspiration. No rhyme or reason, no plans or choreography. It felt awkward at first, like trying on skin fresh from the wash. Feeling your feet shuffle against the tacky linoleum, finding the rhythm of yourself with a room full of strangers as witness.

Somewhere between the beams of light and the wink of Eddie’s rings beneath them, you found it. Like a memory rising up, sweeping through you like a current. Visions of a stadium, roaring as a lion struts the stage with his golden mane, as he commands a sea of thousands with his voice. There was an animal in you too, wild and careless.

It grew wilder when the music dropped to nothing but percussion. When the room fell away to nothing but the heat from Eddie’s eyes, sparkling with play. It made your hips want to sway a little more, your legs want to dip a little deeper to match his wildness with your own. Imbued with a sudden, potent energy, he struck his wicked instrument as the rhythm and melody unraveled.

Janet took it in stride, leading you in a rocking shimmy as you swayed to the change in tempo. Light danced on her sequined shoulders as she tipped her head back in a blissful cackle. You followed her lead, eyes fixed on her with a surging power in the knowing of whose eyes were fixed on you.

The air was a cool kiss against the sliver of skin where your shirt left off, daring you to show a little more. With a twist of your arms toward the spotlights, you blessed him with the dip of your back — the alluring shadow of your spine that trailed into the high waist of your jeans. He panged with the urge to follow it, fell to his knees and wailed through his fingertips.

You broke from Janet’s pull to face him, eye-to-eye level, watching reverently as the sweat glistened in his clavicles, as his pelvis jutted into his weapon to eke out his solo. Howling for you with each stroke of its neck, each bend in its strings as you matched his rhythm with your hips. A secret world, just you and him, the rest fading out into nothing. He swore, like a spell in each note that he wove through the air, that somehow he would make it last.

From his knees, Eddie grabbed the mic off the stand, and with a wordless nod earned by years of friendship, Jeff took over the melody. To the delight of the crowd, he stripped himself of the weight of his instrument, setting it carefully off to the side.

You’ve been cooling, baby, I’ve been drooling, he crooned as he crawled forward.

All the good times, baby, I’ve been misusing

You played with him there. With your shoulders, with your eyes locked no more than a foot from his. Desperate to touch him, you worshiped every bead of sweat that fell from his temple, every wet curl that strayed from the nape of his neck and hugged the strong angle of his jaw. What left his lips next dripped with such fervent intention you that you couldn’t keep your hand from your face.

Way, way down inside

I’m gonna give you my love

I’m gonna give you every inch of my love

I’m gonna give you my love

He was pure energy; raw and manic. Free in the way that wild things are. He snatched your breath away, dragged it to his den and had his way with it as he queried the chorus to you. There was wildness all around; in glinting sequins and megawatt smiles. In the flashes of limbs under the lights. In the rhythm you carried with your whole body now, moving in a way that was both so foreign and natural all at once.

You wondered how it looked from the outside; you and him. From the bar it might have looked like drunk spontaneity. From the stage it might have looked like a stint of support for the arts. You wondered, with a twinge of fear, if the others could feel the longing too or if you had masked it well enough as a performance.

The music dropped out to make way for the final lyrics.

Way down inside, he belted into the silence, punctuating with a deep inhale. Woman, he shouted, locking eyes with you for a pregnant second as the world came to a halt, you need… he drew a deep breath in the space the two chords allowed him before wailing the final word at the ceiling — loooooooove!

You felt it with every cell of your body in one suspended moment. Felt—for the first time since you could vividly remember—truly and completely alive. With a crash of cymbals and an electric instrumental boom, the rhythm—and the world—reconstituted around you, swirling with a vibrant energy that swept you away.

His dark eyes opened with a wicked glint, and his next breath left his chest as a command.

Shake for me, girl. I wanna be your backdoor man!

You obeyed with a shimmy of your shoulders and the room went wild.

______

Janet left you with a tight, perfumed hug. A gentle reassurance that yes, she was fine to drive home. She left you in the vacuum of slamming guitar cases and distant voices as the jukebox picked up where the band left off. Left you to sober up to how idle and awkward you felt sitting at the table you once shared with her, picking at the peeling label on the wet, empty bottle.

When you heard footsteps approaching, a part of you was grateful for the prospect of someone—anyone—to talk to, though it wasn’t who you hoped. Instead, it was the man in the cap from the bar.

“Hey, love the shirt,” he remarked, glance lingering a little too long over the text across your chest.

“Thanks,” you said shyly, gaze drifting back to the bottle.

He stepped closer, setting his can on the table. “I take it you went to that concert?”

“I did, it was really last minute actually.” You told him the story. You told him with your words and gestures, twisting in the tall stool to face him, but it was Eddie that drew your eyes. Crouched down with one knee bent beneath him and the other straining against denim slits, he collected his pedals into a tiny, vintage suitcase. There were words coming out of your mouth, but faced with the rigid angles of his thighs, you were helpless but to stumble over some of them.

It was then that you noticed he had already been staring, though not at you, at Bill — with a simmer behind his eyes.

“Man, I woulda killed to go to that show. I was working a double when tickets went on sale and a buddy of mine said he was gonna camp overnight for us. Well, he ended up getting into a fight with his girlfriend and flaked out. ‘Course they were sold out and closed by the time I left work.”

You expressed your genuine sympathy.

“Boy I was pissed at him then, but even more pissed after Bonham died. Like damn, that was my last shot, man!”

“I’m sorry you had to miss it. It was quite the show.” You told him what you could remember. The setlist, the stage, what they wore.

Eddie watched closely, carefully darting between you amidst the gathering of cables and closing of metal latches. He watched your hands come to life like he loved so much, like you always did when you were explaining something with fond enthusiasm. Helplessly, he watched the way Bill leaned closer, the way his hand and forearm made themselves at home on your table. The simmer hissed and bubbled behind his eyes.

“Anyways, it’s good to see such a lovely new face around here. One with great taste, I might add. Made my night.”

The simmer kicked up to a full, licking flame.

“Oh, well thanks. I don’t get out much,” you said with an awkward chuckle.

Bill stepped closer, as if his next point was something he had to lean in for. “By the way, and I hope this isn’t too forward, but… you’re a great dancer.”

Eddie watched your hand dive behind your neck, your face contort into a feeble smile, your shoulders hunch, your eyes glance down. He could hear the distress in your beautiful laugh and he boiled so hot he could have seared a hole into the back of Bill’s head.

He extended his hand. “I’m Bill, by the way.”

Eddie wrapped the cable in hasty circles around his forearm. Heat rose behind behind his tight lips and exited in short fumes.

“Hey man, have you seen the drum key anywhere?” Gareth called from behind him.

It barely registered. The world was a fragment now. A red-hot, narrowing tunnel reduced to a singularity — Bill’s hand.

Bill’s hand; hovering like a salacious invitation, too close to the soft swell of your belly. That open, rugged palm — weathered, experienced, and free. Free to reach into his wallet, to reach across the bar, to hand you a drink, to wander all sorts of places where Eddie could not.

You, ever polite and always accommodating, reached back.

He touched you.

Eddie’s vision narrowed red. Helplessly, he watched Bill’s fingers snake around the back of your hand and squeeze, linger at your palm as they released. A coil wound through his body. It rose up like bile — up through his spine, into his shoulders that rolled forward and back with a deep, seething breath. Up, up, into that primitive space at the base of his skull where words and civil manners had no place.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Eddie dropped the cable.

The world blurred in the wake of his target and in five swift steps he was at your side. “Hey, Bill. Uh—” his senses ebbed back to him with a curious look from the man he’d shared countless drinks with. A man he would call his friend had he not breeched a sacred distance, a contract he knew nothing of. His vision was clouded, the coil tight and hot.

“She’s um,” he continued quietly, a murmur he had to lean in for. An urge seized his hand. The urge to claim, to slip across the divot of your back and pull you close where you belonged, to but the noise from the stage and the eyes that followed forced his hand deep into his pocket. He swallowed his frustration, hoping the simmer in his eyes would be enough to convey what he meant. “She’s with me, man.”

A throb from that low, blooming place, rose up in a full body yes. In the arch of your back, in the dip of your eyes as you caught the desperate heat from his.

Bill blinked in honest surprise. “Wait, you mean,” he pointed between the two of you, eyes darting back and forth with a confusion that only deepened the insecurity of everyone involved, “you’re—”

“Yes,” Eddie hotly interrupted. The coil in him released slightly, a low rumble replaced by a surge that settled in his cheeks at the trembling, nervous laughter in your voice.

Flutters roared through you all at once, spinning the room well beyond the scope of the liquor that lingered in your veins, heightening your senses to the warmth radiating from the aching nearness of his body to yours.

“Well, hey man, we were just talking—”

“Yeah—well,” he glanced at you, an apology playing out in the widening of his eyes as the coil cooled to sobering embarrassment. He wished he could bury himself, open a trapdoor and take you with him. A parade of stomping feet and slamming cases trudged on behind him from the stage. He prayed the din was enough to mask the conversation.

“It’s ok!” you nervously exclaimed to both of them. “Really. Besides, I—I need to sober up anyway before I go home, so… it’s really ok,” you soothed to Eddie specifically.

Eddie’s pulse thrummed in his hears, his body a livewire of stress and embarrassment. “Ok. Well, I just, um… thought I’d let you know,” he concluded to Bill, desperate to string together some semblance of dignity. He dipped his head toward you until his voice hummed lowly in your hear. “It’ll just be a few more minutes. I gotta get the rest of this shit cleaned up, and then we can, um—” his eyes darted back and forth between yours in wordless exasperation.

“Yeah,” your body whispered, overriding any protest of your noble mind. To what you were agreeing to was unimportant. Whatever he wanted.

Eddie nodded and pivoted toward the stage in a swift exit.

In the wake of his absence was an awkward pause, a space Bill was quick to fill with words. “Well, um, it was nice to meet you,” he said with an awkward dip of his head.

“Yeah, you as well,” you said, a feeble anchor to the spinning room. Bill’s gaze hesitated with a flash of disappointment before returning to the bar. It was all you could do to just stand there a moment, heart pounding in stunned realization as the space whirled with the clammer of footsteps, the thud of equipment, the clinking of glasses. Suddenly the weight of your aloneness in the middle of it all was crushing. You retreated to the down the short hallway and ducked into the bathroom.

She’s with me.

In the muffled quiet of the dimly lit reprieve, the words echoed louder than ever. You were almost afraid to check your reflection, to look yourself in the eyes and face the person who ached to hear them repeated, but you did, and she surprised you. Something about the way your lipstick feathered clean in the center from the kiss of the bottle, the way your mascara settled at your lower lashes in the delicate lines beneath. It was oddly flattering, like the shadow of a good time.

You liked who you saw, and perhaps that scared you most.

Jeff’s laughter echoed down the hallway and the pinball trigger snapped again. What the fuck am I doing?

You would ask yourself this question as you pressed the tip of your boot to the dirty toilet handle, as the cold water woke your skin, as it dripped onto the salt-stained tile, as you dropped the soggy remains of the last two paper towels into the overflowing trashcan.

When the clammer of footsteps and slamming of the back door faded to nothing more than distant murmurs from the bar, you slowly cracked the door and peered into the empty hallway. Your boots clicked tentatively against the tacky linoleum, emerging from the shadows as you drew a steady breath. The stage was dark, the men perched on stools had their backs to you, all roaming eyes cast down over drinks — all except one.

Eddie stood in the middle of it all; hands on hips, damp curls clinging to his neck, chest still heaving from movement and stress. He locked eyes with you, and you could feel relief in his sigh from the apron of the hallway.

Your smile was a shy, timid thing, blooming to a helpless grin as the softness of his features heightened into focus with each progressive step. As the distance between you closed to less than a foot.

“Hey,” he breathed like a soft apology.

“Hey,” you answered, like you always did. A nervous crackle of anticipation wound through your gut.

“I um,” Eddie wrung a hand behind his neck, flashing a dark tuft of hair that made the animal in you stir. “I need to cool down,” he admitted with a raw, candid urgency. He patted his pockets. “I’m gonna step out for a cigarette… if you… wanna…” he nodded toward the back hall.

Yes. Anything, the animal growled. You simply nodded and went to grab your coat.

Eddie snatched the heap of leather from the railing by the stage and draped it over his arm. He ushered you forward with a sweep of his palm through the air, catching your eyes with a softness that threatened the strength of your knees. A giggle escaped you — honest, uncontrollable, automatic. Clutching your arm with a coyness that surprised even yourself, you shuffled in front of him, the towering presence of his closeness like a tingle at your back, a safety in the thud of heavy boots behind you.

The night air was a cold refreshment, a sobering reprieve from the hot, smoke-dense air of The Hideout. Your lungs helped themselves, filling to the brim, releasing just a little of the tension that was mounting before you arrived. It left you in a thick fog, drifting out into the empty patio, catching the glow from the singular bulb posted by the door. Eddie pulled it shut with a soft thud and shrugged on his coat in a rattle of zippers and chains.

Silence. A howl of the wind through naked limbs. A sigh that left both of you at once.

Eddie dipped his head in subtle reverence as he crossed in front of you, placing his hands on the short, wooden fence to your right. He paused a second, drawing a deep breath before spinning around to face you, hands splayed in an open plead. “I am so fucking sorry.”

Your mouth hung open. “A-about what?”

He ran a hand through his hair with a ragged sigh. “About Bill, about how I acted, a-about…” he swallowed, “what I said…”

An O trembled on your lips but never made it out. “It’s fine, really—”

“It’s…it’s not. It’s just that,” he huffed, “Bill was hitting on you a-and you just looked so uncomfortable and…” it drove him fucking crazy. It lit his blood on fire. It made him want to grab a man who’d bought him countless drinks by the collar and ram him into the wall.

You stepped closer, close enough to see the whites of his eyes in the darkness, the shadow of his pinching brow. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t stir something in you. Hearing those words. Hearing the ones he said now in profuse apology. “Eddie,” you soothed.

He closed his eyes; a split-second relish of his name on your lips. “It—” he sighed. “It wasn’t cool, to say that…” he shook his head before meeting your eyes in soft earnestness, “in public.”

The breath froze in your lungs. Out here the world fell away to the rustle of trees, to a darkness that cloaked you like a blanket. You were alone. Truly alone. A question tugged at your heart, twinged on the tip of your tongue but felt still too bold to leave it. What would he say, then, in private?

It played out like a tape behind his eyes — the curl of Bill’s fingers around your hand. It was such a simple gesture, benign outside of context. Yet there was something deeper, something that wound like a serpent through his gut. It struck, and stung, that in one fell swoop, Bill had touched as much of you as he had. That Bill could do as much in public as he could only manage beneath a shadow.

“Anyway, now that… that’s out of the way,” Eddie shook his head as he fumbled with the zipper of his pocket, curls feathering his delicate cheekbone, gaze cast down in weakly hidden shame. He procured a box of cigarettes, thumb flipping it open with an ease earned by years of habit. Popping one into his mouth, he paused before snapping it shut. “Y-you want one?” he mumbled. It seemed rude not to ask, but the question felt dumber by the second as it hung in the air. You were good. Good like 6 AM coffee, like the early morning sun. Good like the buttons on a crisp, white blouse. Yet here he stood, hand extended, offering what little he could — an experience.

Goodness was a mantle. A weight that kept your shoulders back, your lips pressed tight, your head cast down, your feet in slippers, your curtains drawn. Eddie Munson stood beside you, rugged and regal like a dark knight, arm outstretched in humble offering. With hesitance, you eyed the invitation.

Out here you could be anything — a vagabond, a runaway, a princess escaped from her castle. A woman who spends Tuesday nights at dive bars and smokes cigarettes with men in leather jackets. Anything you wanted.

You wanted to taste it. You wanted the flame, and the smoke, and the raw, ragged air that wound through your lungs and left like a beacon that soared toward the sky.

You wanted to be bad for him, and so you accepted.

The cigarette almost dropped from Eddie’s mouth in shock. He fumbled another from the box before tucking it into his back pocket. With a flourish, bending in its presentation as if it were a single rose, he offered it to you.

Never in a million years could you have imagined it. You, in a position like this. Him, in a position like that. Least of all that it would be so wildly romantic.

You accepted with the tips of your fingers, your index and middle, brushing ridges of his knuckles with feather-light indulgence. They closed around the offering, pausing for an aching second before drawing away with it.

Eddie closed his eyes, so quickly he could have masked it as a blink, but you caught it. The sigh, the swallow, the batting open with a burning hunger as he relished in the barest fulfillment of what he’d been craving since he saw you this morning — to touch you.

The cold nipped at your knuckles as you took in the foreign sensation between them, admiring it like a sinful adornment under the moonlight.

With a flick of his thumb, the parentheses of his mouth lit up in a warm glow. He took a few quick puffs, smoke billowing from his nose and the corners of his lips before taking a long drag. Satisfaction exited his lungs in a deep sigh, a billow that rose toward the twinkling sky. He turned his attention back to you. “Here,” he offered gently, beckoning you closer with a gentle come hither motion, readying his lighter.

You held your hand out gingerly, willing the trembling of your fingers to cease with little success.

Eddie closed in, bringing a finger to his lips as a gentle suggestion. “Put it in your mouth,” he said, unable to suppress the boyish grin that surfaced from the words.

You did as he told you, held it in your smirk, searched for your next instruction in the depth of his eyes but found only delight. Delight in the whole sight of you; the way it dimpled the swell of your lips, in the attention of those dutiful shoulders, like you wanted to be good at misbehaving. Delight in the fact he was teaching you something.

Eddie leaned closer. “Like this,” he instructed softly, framing his own with his long, ruddy digits before taking a quick drag. Obediently, you mirrored him, like a natural smoker would, like they did in the movies and inside the bar.

The flame ignited between you, flickering in the wild wind. Eddie cupped it with his other hand, forming a shield with the curve of his knuckles — gentle and protective. The fire caught the tip of the slender roll, but his palm was far more captivating. Inches from your face, you could study it closer than ever, plush and glowing — the broad heart line, the soft meat of its heel.

A deep inhale had smoke ghosting over your tongue. Eddie pulled away to reveal the ember and you took your cue. The drag you took, long and determined, left you coughing.

Eddie couldn’t suppress his chuckle, couldn’t mask the crinkle of his eyes as you—from behind the big desk and before the big board—were swallowed in a clumsy cloud of smoke.

“Are you laughing at me?” you asked through a giggle of your own.

Like oxygen to a flame, his laughter only brightened. “I’m sorry, you’re just… so…”

“So…what?” You gave him a look, trying to suck your dignity back through the end of the cigarette.

A million words ached on the tip of his tongue. The wind ripped across the small, frozen field, shyly disappearing in the treeline. Out here there were no bells, no footsteps, no concrete walls to listen. Eddie watched those fingers of yours pull away from your lips, blow a billow toward the open sky, and one in a million came tumbling out.

“Beautiful.”

A puff retreated back through your lips, froze in your lungs. The truth hung like smoke in the cold night air, rolled around in your chest, warmed your body from head to toe. Eddie plugged his mouth with another draw to prevent more from slipping out.

There was space for the truth out here. Space like a vacuum, vast and quiet. A shyly muttered “Thank you,” was all you could manage to fill it with.

Eddie raked his fingers through the damp curls at the nape of his neck, cheeks pinking visibly, even in the dim glow of the single light on the other side of the patio. He leaned against the fence and met your eyes again, nervous breath rolling over his plush lips.

His movement, like a magnet, drew your feet across the pavement. Deeper into the shadows with the gentle pull of his eyes. The tobacco settled in your body with a comfortable heaviness as you drank him in, and you suddenly grasped the appeal.

Out here he seemed even taller, shoulders stacked over slender hips as he leaned into the fence, an ease that washed over him with each generous draw, like the stress was rolling off into the shadows. Out here he took on a different posture, different than the one under fluorescent lights. Different than the one in the small chair next to you, the one with hunched shoulders and downcast eyes.

You tapped the ash of the cigarette off with your finger, like a natural smoker would. He smirked at the gesture, and you caught the twinge of pride in it this time.

Out here he could be anything. He could be clever and daring; a roguish enchanter. A man who casts spells with his fingers and charms with his words. Anything he wanted.

He wanted to make your eyes light up.

Eddie took another drag, hollowing his cheeks before sending out smoke in deliberate puffs with his tongue. It left his mouth in rings, hovering in the gap between you before drifting across the patio.

He got what he wanted. A gasp left your lips, eyes twinkling brighter than the stars. “What?! I didn’t know people could actually do that!” You exclaimed, delighted like a child on Christmas.

Eddie blew the rest off to the side and returned a blinding smile. It was more satisfying than the cigarette — the fact that he could do it, make your face light up. The fact that he had the power.

“How do you do that?” you asked, ever inquisitive.

His instructions were simple; take a big drag, hollow your cheeks, make the shape with your mouth, and push the smoke out with your tongue. Simple enough, from the sound of it.

Your first attempt failed, miserably. Uproariously.

“The shape is critical,” he reminded through a chuckle, “it’s gotta be like, a perfect O, not an oval.” His eyes lingered over your lips as you tried his suggestion, struggling to will his mind away from the gutter.

Your smile made it hard to maintain. “Wait—wait, hold on I think I got it.” You tried again with great focus, sending out puffs with your tongue that looked nothing like rings. It was worth it though. Worth making a fool of yourself for the amusement that colored his face, for the bright laughter it earned you. “Ok, fine. Maybe not.”

It looked good on him, just like it did on stage. This knowing that drew his shoulders back, made him lean with a powerful ease. The knowing that he was really good at something, that he could show you.

“It’s a bit advanced,” he said with a wink before taking another deep drag. He puffed a ring and cast it forward with a push of his hand, like a spell through the air. It broke on your nose and you relished in the soft sensation of his life-force ghosting over your face.

It was all you could do just to look at him — rugged and regal in the way that only he could be. It was dangerous and thrilling; how alone you were right now. His aura pulled you closer, eyes tugging at those burning questions, serious questions at war with your lingering buzz. You broke the silence with the truth; soft and sincere. “You’re insanely talented, I hope you know that.”

The curve of his lashes dipped shyly with a little puff through his nose. They raised with a sparkle that cut through the darkness. “Thanks, it uh… comes a lot easier to me than chemistry.” He tapped off his ash on the pavement.

You tucked your free hand into your pocket with a bashful shuffle of your feet. “Well, good thing rockstars don’t need to know chemistry then.”

Eddie scoffed and gave his eyes a quick roll, unsuccessful at hiding the brilliance of his smile. Heat crept up his neck, and he soothed it with a wring of his hand.

There was a gap between you; a space you were too scared to breach. The two of you filled it with shy chatter as your cigarettes dwindled to nubs. It was easy, to talk to him. About music, about anything. Easy because you gave each other turns to take it; the space. It almost made it easy to forget who you were to each other before you came out here, who you would go back to being tomorrow.

The cold was wicked and relentless; biting at your knuckles as you tapped the last ash. Even the tobacco’s heavy warmth sinking to your feet couldn’t stave it off. It was a Tuesday night in December, and the wind made sure to remind you.

Eddie followed your eyes toward the door. “It’s ok,” he reassured. “Nobody comes out here. We’re safe.”

His words sparked a tingle in your chest, a pulse of heat; low and thrumming. Neither could halt the shiver that seized your limbs.

“You ok?” he asked gently, stepping close enough to almost feel the heat from him.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You blew on your hands, rubbing them together feebly to fight the cold. You were stubborn to surrender, determined not to end your stolen moment by succumbing.

It was all he could do just to look at you. You, shaking like a leaf in the wind. You, with longing eyes and trembling lips. You, with your soft skin and softer soul. His fingers burned, wrestled with the silence, and the distance, and the howl of the wind through the trees. They warred with the ticking clock, with the chill against his precious moment, with the threat of it winning. Suddenly his fingers—bolder than they’ve ever been in his life—twitched to animation. They toyed with the cold metal zipper at his neck, and in one decided tug, he opened up for you. “Here,” he offered.

You froze, more than the cold could ever manage, as you eyed the invitation — the warm leather cave, the exposure of his heaving chest. Your lips parted but words would not come. You wanted it — the heat, the tight embrace, to be wrapped in his aura, to feel his laughter with your palms.

Your noble mind as it cast its disapproval like a shadow toward your heart, but your hands and feet were deaf to it. Boots shuffling boldly against the rough pavement, they filled the gap between his. You accepted with the tips of your fingers, delicate and tentative, like his skin was a hot iron and yours at risk to burn. You watched them disappear into the darkness, felt the soft cotton warmth as it enveloped you. With trembling slowness, you traced the divots of his ribcage, settled into them like grooves, felt him gasp into your palms when the ice that you’d become found the velvet, heated skin under his arms.

“Sorry—”

“Hah—hmm—no-no it’s ok,” he grimaced, pinning your hands beneath his arms to stop your recoil, as if the pain of the freeze hurt less than the pain of its absence. “I—ah—I asked for this.” His chuckle was a warm vibration, a flutter as the cage which housed his heart contracted.

A shiver racked your body as you thawed. Whether it was nerves, or fear, or the chill that had settled deep in your bones long before you stepped foot outside, you were helpless to control it.

“Come ‘ere,” he breathed with equal care and need.

You submitted, tracing his contours as he pulled you closer — head against his solid shoulder, into the soft pillow of his hair, into the source of his scent: leather and tobacco and the sweet, salty musk of his skin. You closed your eyes and basked in it, nose buried in his curls, drawing in deeply to steady your rattling chest.

Broad palms splayed across the fabric of your coat, pulling you deep into the comfort of his heat, tracing your waist to settle in a place they burned to be — your lower back. “It’s ok, you’re ok,” he murmured into your hair, bracing you tightly as your whole body shook.

You could have died here, buried yourself in his arms and made him your tomb. They would find you in the morning; frozen like a sculpture. Left out for all of Hawkins to see, to point and say terrible things. It wouldn’t matter. You would have died happy.

His heart was pounding with disbelief. You, here, in his arms. You could feel it through your coat, hammering against your chest, into your palms at his back. Eddie felt your breathing slow, your body soften and relax. He crooked his forearm firmly to your back, to the place where it belonged, fingers curling like a cage around your waist. Out here he could be anything — strong and stable, a haven for your tired bones to rest. Anything, for you.

In the dark leather cave there was a landscape for your hands to study. The satin liner grazed your knuckles as your hands explored the angles of his shoulder blades with tentative slowness — down along the muscles of his back, the dip of his spine, the birdcage of his ribs; expanding and contracting, deep and steady.

He was real, here, in your arms. Two swelling lungs. One beating heart. Two hands that clutched the wool barrier between you. One solid shield of a chest. One humming column at your cheek. Eddie Munson; wildfire. Close enough to thaw you. Close enough to burn you to the ground.

Your hands settled at the slim taper of his waist. Pliant and yielding under soft cotton, swelling with each ocean breath. His cage around you tightened, and you breathed him in, felt him swallow, felt his hips slot against the groove of yours with sensed belonging.

The animal in you keened with curiosity, emboldened by the dark. Your hands wouldn’t dare beyond the roadblock of his belt, but they would move in slow strokes up and down his back. A gentle comfort, a mask for your indulgence.

A quiet moan rose up in him, one he couldn’t swallow. The best he could do was cloak it in a sigh. It hummed against your ear; your cheek so close to the crook of his neck you could almost taste it. You breathed him in again, lips pressed to his soft curls against tough leather as the smoke, and musk, and crisp night air filled your lungs.

His hands were less patient; dipping toward the slope of your hips, pawing at thick wool, thumbs drawing aching circles there. It earned an arch from your back, a grasp from your hands at the soft cotton barrier.

There was an animal in him too, preening at the cant of your hips, at the rub of your neck against his. With a dip of his chin he could sink his teeth in, but his noble mind willed it away, settled for the scent of you instead — soft like powder, warm and inviting. The heels of your palms drifted toward his belly, and the animal threatened to rear below his belt.

“Ah,” it leapt out his throat.

Hands freezing before reaching the healthy swell, you drew back from his shoulder, checking in. Your lids hung with visible weight, pupils blown by more than just the lack of light, dizzy from his touch. He could do that with his hands, he thought; a split-second revel before concern sobered your features.

His disappointment was palpable, like he’d burst some great bubble. “Mm—no, it’s fine, please—” please don’t stop. His arms around you tightened, eyes pleading with words he wasn’t bold enough to utter, even in the darkness.

A shadow of guilt fell across your face. Guilt for your greedy hands, for your lost control, for your bad behavior. It was a pitiful sight; worse than the one he saw yesterday. Worse because it was here. Worse because he was closer than he’d ever been before.

There was a gap between you; space for the cold to seep between your hearts. Space for the fear that he’d broken the spell. That you didn’t see him anymore, but your student instead.

You thumbed his soft cotton shirt, buried in the shelter of his coat. Eddie Munson — frenetic and compelling. Beautiful in the way that wild things are. Breathing life into your numb hands with each ragged swell. You studied him closely; his soft cupid’s bow, his pink, plush pout, the angles of his worried jaw, the pining in his eyes.

Want. A wild, elusive thing. A summer wind. An admission at a cost. Want didn’t budge. Want looked you dead in the eyes and tightened its grip.

Eddie knew what he wanted, burning like a question on his tongue. He knew he had to be the one to ask. He was terrified — of the question, of the asking, of the fact that he may never get another chance. Your hands grappled with it, clung like they feared he would vanish. He felt the ache in them, the want, the fear, the frustration. It opened up a narrow passage, and he entered with the boldest thing he had ever done.

He asked you with his forehead first. A gentle nod forward; the softest collision. A tickle of curls. A rock back and forth of his strong, sturdy brow. A smile even you couldn’t hide. Your hands released, settled at the dip of his back in quiet permission.

He asked you with the bridge of his nose. A delicate slope. A tender nuzzle. Rigid bone under soft flesh. Cold, round tip. Roaming the map of yours with heated intention as he swayed like a dance in the moonlight. You closed your eyes, surrendered to the fantasy. Felt the heat of his cheek, the pang of his palm at your back as he pulled you closer.

He asked you with a tilt of his chin, and brought time to a halt.

There was a gap between you. A fractional distance bridged by the ghost of his breath. Within it; every party that you never went to, every basement you were never led away from, every page you never shared, every experience you never had. Goodness was a mantle, heavy from a lifetime on your shoulders.

What did freedom taste like? The question brushed across your lips like a warm invitation. You were desperate for the answer. Wanted it more than anything, ever, in your whole entire life. Wanted it for you, for only you. For once.

Eddie asked the question. You closed the gap.

A sigh left both of you at once. One you could taste this time, humming against the plush cradle of his lips. Freedom could have melted you. It threatened the strength of your knees, but his arms were stronger. Locked against each other in the shadows you borrowed, your lips began to explore, to express every secret wish the two of you had dreamt apart.

Freedom tasted tentative at first. A slow drag of his lips, a languid slip that rippled to the dormant parts of you. Catching like tinder as they grazed over yours, hot with an ache you could taste. It was sinfully exquisite; tasting the curve of his smile, the hyper-real rasp of his stubble as those lips—the ones that shot you smirks from down the hall and spilled over with song—found a rhythm with yours. Broad palms clutched the wool at your waist like you’d slip through a crack if he didn’t hold on.

Freedom was slick. It tasted like cigarettes, like a thousand unsaid words ushered past the border of your mouth. You could taste every one on his tongue, soothed them with the slickness of yours. Every aching word, dripping in each soft caress. Diving like a dance, echoed in the soft, wet smacks when you parted. You devoured them like you were starving. Every sigh, every hum, every color that left his lungs slipped eagerly down your throat.

The wool at your back was a nuisance. Eddie pawed at it, desperate to feel the shape of you through the fabric, to store it in the vault of his mind, to play with it later in private. He halted his hands at your hips, willed them decent, rationed with the small working part of his brain that your lips would have to be enough. He relished in the way you accepted him. The way you spread for him, parting eagerly for his tongue. The way your lips closed around him, rocking as he prodded like you’d done it before. Like you wanted to elsewhere.

The spell was broken. The line, miles away. There was a hunger in you, sudden and surprising, roused by the very first taste. Eddie palmed your hips with an urgency that stirred you. Like a bear in the spring, thawed by the heat of his touch, you devoured him. Devoured him with the wholeness of your splayed hands, tracing up his pounding ribs, dragging across the expanse of his broad chest. It heaved under your touch; solid muscle under soft cotton. You devoured his moan; a hot, strangled thing that escaped his plush lips. Like a match to the strip your tongue, you ignited.

His hands lost their patience. Breaking from your waist, they dove behind your ears to cradle your face. Your face. Your jaw, your delicate cheeks he caressed with the rough pads of his thumbs, as if the swell of them—the rigid bones under soft skin, the absolute realness of you in his arms—could wake him from the dream he was surely having. He was tasting you, tasting the want on your tongue. More satisfying than a four course meal, more satisfying than anything he’d ever tasted in his life. You wanted him. More than that, you savored him; the taste of his hot, eager tongue as it slipped against yours.

Freedom was delicious. Bold and complex, acrid and rich. Full bodied. A smooth, sweet finish. You could have drowned in it. Drowned in the angles of his hands, in his tender strokes, in the sopping heat of his mouth. Drowned in his eager sighs, in his scent. Drowned completely if he hadn’t held your head above the surging waves.

Eddie was good like a midnight snack. Good like a wide open road. He was good at this. Good at knowing how to ask and answer. Good at at finding the rhythm of you.

You broke for air, stilling against the bridge of his nose, afraid to look him in the eyes just yet, to break away from the safety his shadow provided. Safe from the world, safe from consequences, safe from the thoughts that battered at the door of your mind. Safety was fragile and fleeting. You knew it, he knew it. Your breath mingled in hot bursts as you steadied your spinning world for a quiet moment together. You felt him smile—heard it—big and bright as it cracked across his face. The air stung your cheeks when he took his hands away. Leaning back against the fence, he tugged you closer, further into the safety of the shadows, enveloping you in the crook of his heat.

It was good like this — the angles of you and the angles of him, fitting like they always belonged. It felt safe to explore them, to paint his pounding chest, down the soft swell of his belly, stopping at his hips. With a thick bob of his Adam’s apple, he closed the gap again. It was chaste this time, peppering your lips with space to breathe between each kiss. They were slow and savory, steady and sure. They lingered long enough for you to get another taste, to capture that plush Cupid’s bow and let it melt across yours, to flick your tongue over his soft bottom lip and taste him there too.

You could taste his need when he greeted your tongue with his own. It was safe to show it here. Safe to let the animal inside him bare its teeth. Safe to let the animal in you do the same. It growled when he nipped at you, hooked its claws through his belt loops and tugged. It was a quick, testing thing, and your sound let him know that he passed. He lapped it up hungrily, soothed it before inflicting another.

It ached in a frightening way, in that deep, low place. Throbbed awake with each delicious bite. It scared you how quickly the path was veering south, but the pooling warmth encouraged his travels, let him go wherever he wanted. When his lips strayed far enough to track your jaw, a shrinking voice shrieked danger, but the rest of you simply submitted.

Claws braced denim and leather, offering yourself with a tip of your head. Reverently, he accepted, setting his pace with a dizzying slowness. He worshiped you with every latch, every press, every lingering smack, darting his tongue out to taste the forbidden angles of your jaw. It was greedy but good. To him, to you. Letting go this much. Letting him go this far. The trail cooled in the night air, and he settled at the precipice of your neck.

His breath alone was enough to melt you; heavy with the weight of his new position. Heavy with desire, with the weight of thousand fantasies he never thought would come to pass. He drank in the cocktail of your scent; concentrated, warm, deliciously real. In the throws of your own heaving chest, sobered just barely by the pregnant pause, you awoke to your position: open, vulnerable, completely at his mercy.

He tasted your swallow, felt your breath hitch when his warm, wet tongue found your pulse. Lathing there a moment, lingering and slow, he savored you. Savored the ridges of your neck, the way your head lolled to the side, like a feast laid out for him. He stored the image in his mind, packaged it carefully for when he would surely be starving again. His lips soothed where his tongue left off, over and over until your strangled sound stirred a fiending hunger. He bared his teeth, and you shattered.

Freedom was falling apart in his arms. Crumbling into pieces and letting him grapple you whole. Letting him capture you in his maw and lap up your ruin. Letting him, letting him. His teeth dragged dull and slow, tingling every waking cell, turning you to putty completely. He dragged a moan out of you. A full one, loud and clear. He tucked it away, buried it deep alongside your squirms and your touch.

The door opened.

Cold air shocked your lungs. Head snapping over your shoulder, you broke his latch and Eddie hissed a curse at the separation. With daggers, you both assessed the intruder.

The silhouette of his cap gave him away. He might have even kept on walking but the gasps and the shuffling feet made him turn. “Oh shit,” Bill flinched back in surprise. “Sorry man I thought you left.”

Eddie’s arm tightened instinctively, pulling you as close as he wanted to earlier. Reflexively, you pushed away. It was a strange tug of war — his pride and your fear. “Yeah—no we’re still here,” he snapped.

You swallowed your pounding heart, sobering completely under Bill’s gaze. Suddenly your claws retracted, your hands felt wrong where they rested, shame bit at your neck along the cooling trail he left behind.

Even in the backlit glow of the singular light, you saw it painted clearly on his features — the judgement, the disbelief, the questions rising up but not daring to come out. “Well um, sorry to interrupt. Have a good night,” Bill said with an awkward raise of his hand before making quickly for the parking lot.

Footsteps faded over gravel and left a silence in their wake, thicker than the stillness from before.

Eddie breathed a sharp sigh through his nostrils, brows lowered as he seethed toward the parking lot. The cold was setting in again. Your nose, and ears, and fingers stung with it. The rest of you stung worse; chest numbing, caving like a can under the weight of what you’d just done.

When the flick of distant headlights made you brave enough to face him, frustration painted his features. He pawed at your coat, desperate to salvage what he could of his precious moment. “Anyway, where were we?” he muttered, eyeing your neck with a tilt of his head like he was about to dive in again.

Your hand at his chest stopped him, and the look in his eyes was wounding. “Eddie,” you warned softly. A slow, heavy sigh left his nose, one you could feel with your palm. “I need to go.”

Crestfallen after a desperate, hesitant second, his arms went slack. Your hand dropped, leaving a fierce chill behind. One more, his lips begged, but struggled to release. Please.

It hurt, to crumble like this after all you had built. With the roar of Bill’s engine, the fantasy shattered around you. The carriage became a pumpkin, your gown turned into rags. Shrill bells rang out in the distance, coming surely as the sun would rise. Pinballs thundered as that sweet oval face—the one from the back of the room and the chair next to yours—pouted with lips still swollen from where you had broken your contract.

“I’m sorry,” you mouthed.

Gathering himself with a deep breath, he straightened to a dignified height, conviction filling the cracks in his composure. “I’m not.”

It was terrifying — the prospect, the consequences. What it meant for you, for him, for the world you’d have to face tomorrow.

Most terrifying of all was how good it felt to hear him say.

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A/N: Thank you all for your patience on this one. It took me nearly all summer to finish but I'm really proud of how it turned out. Please let me know what you think! I've missed hearing from and connecting with all of you. Next one won't take nearly as long, I promise. 💕

Taglist: @mermaidsandcats29 @toxicjayhoo @ooo-protean-ooo @jadequeen88 @wroteclassicaly @kissmyacdc @mantorokk-writes @loveshotzz @storiesbyrhi @cursedyuta @trashmouth-richie @carolmunson @keeponquinning @munson-blurbs @blueywrites @alottanothing @bebe07011 @idkidknemore @alizztor @godcreatoreli @ethereal27cereal @munsonsgirl71 @emxxblog @siriusmuggle @sidthedollface2 @big-ope-vibes @dollalicia @lma1986 @catherinnn @eddiemunson4life420 @readsalot73 @barbiedragon @ladylilylost @3rriberri @princess-eddie @nightless @eddieswifu @thew0rldsastage @chaoticgood-munson @hanahkatexo @eddiemunsonsbedroom @beep-beep-sherlock @averagemisfit03 @vintagehellfire @haylaansmi @sllooney @lunaladybug734 @callingmrsbarnes @ajkamins

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MASTERLIST ⎮ AO3 ⎮ KO-FI

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson older reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x teacher!reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #don't stand so close to me

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lvrhughes · 7 months

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Best Birthday Present | Q. Hughes

pairing: Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

word count: 2.7k

warnings: none?

summary: You take quinn around for his birthday before ending the night with him, becoming his favorite birthday present

not my gif!

3, 2, 1…

It was midnight. Officially Quinn’s birthday, where he was, peacefully asleep in his apartment and yet you weren’t.

Staying awake, waiting for midnight to send the simple ‘happy birthday’ right away. Running over the final details of your plan for his day, the team wanting to do something for him and of course you’d agree. What kind of media manager would you be if you hadn’t?

The team came to you because they knew you were good at planning, seeing how well you helped plan events in the organization even when it was up to another office. Quickly asking you to help plan a day Quinn would enjoy, making sure he’d have more than enough time alone, at home maybe talking to his brothers and parents.

Your eyes scanned over the plan one last time, ensuring there were no mistakes. The soft buzzing of your phone brought you out of the trance, moving the day plan to the side to see.

Quinn’s name covered the screen, his contact photo coming up beneath.

“Hey Quinner.” You answered, seeing the sleepy boy on the other side of the call.

“Oh did I call you?” His voice was deep with sleep, proving that he had been asleep until moments ago.

“Yes you did, why’re you awake?”

“Don’t know,” He yawned, “Thanks for the birthday message though.” He smiled, a soft, stubble smile that could’ve given any girl butterflies.

“Of course, Quinny.” He always smiled at the nickname, glaring when anyone else would call him it.

“Wait so why’re you awake?” He questioned, realizing he could ask that now.

“Oh, you know just working on some work stuff.” You could hear how terrible the lie was and when Quinn burst out laughing you knew how bad it was.

“You’re lying.” He laughed, leaned up in his bed now, the blanket falling from his chest.

“Me? Lie? Phft never.” You could see his smile even in the darkness, the light from your end reflecting on him.

“Fine, don’t tell me what you’re doing, on my birthday, without me.” He played, clearly waking up now.

“Can’t tell you yet, the team would kill me.”

“So the teams’ in on it too!”

“I already said too much, gotta go Quinny, sleep well, you’ll need it.” You grinned, quickly ending the call after.

Another immediate call back from Quinn came right after, making you answer again. A smile on his face as you accepted.

“Come on, baby, you gotta tell me!” He grinned, seeing the pink cover your cheeks at the pet name. Of course this wasn’t the first time he’d used it, nor the second or third, he used it quite often, purely to get the same reaction out of you everytime.

“Told you Quinny, I can’t but just know, you should be up and out of bed by 11am.” His lips perked up further into more of a smirk at the words, his mind whirling with more questions.

“And why’s that?”

“We got a plan and a schedule we gotta stick to.”

“Oh? And what’s this plan, babe?”

You turned away at the pet name, tilting the camera to the wall as your face turned crimson. Quinn laughed, slowly you turned your phone back to you.

“Goodnight, Huggy Bear.” You grinned, seeing the smile grow on his face before ending the call yet again.

3am, just a few more hours, but until then you’d sleep. Setting the alarm for 9am and curling into your spot on the bed, falling to sleep quickly.

“Ugh.” You groaned at the constant knocking at your door, quickly grabbing your phone to see the time flash, 5:42am, before walking to your door.

“Whoever the fuck this is, you best have a death wish!” You groaned as you unlocked the door, seeing an eager Quinn on the other side. “Quinn?”

“Good morning sleepy head!” He grinned pushing his way in.

“How’d you get my address?” It seemed like a fair question, he’d never been over before and now he’s shown up at your door.

“I may have paid Brock to give it to me.” He shyly smiled.

“My golden retriever betrayed me!” The dramatic groan fell from your lips as you fell on to your couch, seeing Quinn follow you into the living room area.

“Golden retriever huh?”

“Yes, he’s blonde like one and quite literally gives off the exact same energy.”

Quinn shrugged, having no argument. Sitting down beside your fallen body on the couch, tilting his head to look at you.

“What’re you doing here?” You asked, closing your eyes, fighting to stay awake.

“I can’t just spend my birthday with my favorite media manager?”

“No, not when you show up too early.” You groaned, rolling onto your side. “I want to go back to bed.” You sighed, opening your eyes enough to stare at quinn.

“I mean you can, but then what should I do?” Quinn shrugged, waiting for a response to kick him out, to go bother Brock two doors down.

“You go back to bed too, you were up at three am with me.” You nodded, getting off the couch slowly.

“But that means going back to my apartment, so I’d have to drive back home, then go back into my bed that I just made,” His list continued, giving you a playful list of stupid reasons why he shouldn’t go back to bed.

“Okay well, go annoy Brock or come to bed with me, take your choice.” You declared, your tired eyes just barely catching the way his widened at your offer.

“You want to take me to bed?” He finally smirked, making you smack his arm.

“Not like that you dick! Fine stay out alone on the couch, miss out on the TV in my room.” You mumbled, turning towards your room.

“No, wait. I’m coming.” He said, quickly following you to your room. Your body quickly falling onto your bed, Quinn following behind you.

“You have the other side, this is my side.” You shooed him away, waiting for him to lay beside you. As little as you’d been with Quinn his presence was always so warm, it was so easy to be with him. To act as if you’d been friends for forever and invite him to sleep in your room with you.

You passed him a TV remote, telling him to put whatever he wanted on, curling up into your side. His eyes lingered on your body far longer than they should've, seeing the rise and fall of your chest as you settled into a comfy spot.

He chose a random show, one he’d seen before, too focused on you to watch anything else. The urge to reach over and hold you overwhelmed Quinn, fighting his own body not to.

Until you rolled over to him, pressed against his body now, his arms instinctively wrapped around you. His eyes closed, feeling your steady breaths against his neck as he held you lulled him to sleep.

Needless to say when more knocking on your door appeared at 8:56, neither of you were impressed. Groaning and hiding your face in Quinn’s chest before realizing that he was not your pillow.

“G’morning.” He whispered, his voice raspy from sleep.

“Morning, birthday boy.” You grinned before the knocking continued. “Ugh, you think if we just ignore them they’ll go away?”

Quinn shook his head, smiling at your unimpressed attitude to get up.

“You know they won't.”

“But I could hope.” An odd silence came after, then the sound of your door opening. “I didn’t lock it after you showed up.” You groaned, hearing that they’d learned that information.

The patter of half the team’s footsteps lead up to your door, seeing it slowly open and Brock’s head peek through. A confused look crossed his face before being pushed into the room by the other members of the team.

“You’re sleeping with Quinn?” Elias asked, straight forward, making you groan again and hide under the blanket.

“You’d think if they were sleeping together they wouldn’t have clothes on dumbass.” Brock pointed out.

“I am not sleeping with Quinn!” You mumbled, peeking out from the blanket to see an amused look on Quinn’s face. “You stop looking so happy.” You glared, seeing quinn put his hands up in false surrender.

“But technically, you are sleeping with me.” He grinned, making you smack his arm, his hand reaching out to grab yours.

“You are only in here because you didn’t want to be alone on my couch when you showed up at 5am!”

The rest of the team slowly piled into your room, some of them immediately turning out at the scene of their captain and media manager in the same bed.

“We came over to go over the plan, we didn’t know he’d be here.” Brock admitted, seeing the written out plan on your desk, grabbing it and Elias’ arm and leaving. He herded the rest of the team out, informing you they’d be waiting in your living room.

“I can’t believe you.” You shook your head at Quinn, who still had a smile on his face.

“What? You don’t want the team to think you're sleeping with their captain?”

“No, I do not. Not when I’m not actually sleeping with him!” The smile stayed on his face as you got up, leaving the warmth of your bed to search for more appropriate clothes for the day.

“You could be.” You froze at the words, turning to Quinn, who still laid in your bed.

“What?”

“Nevermind.” He quickly brushed off, getting out of your bed and folding the blanket up. “I’ll go so you can get changed.” He smiled, walking out without another word.

You walked out of your room, equipped in better attire now. The entire team was squished in your living room, listening to Quinn tell some random story while Brock tried to figure out your coffee machine.

“Do you need help?” You grinned at Brock, who was taking his best guess and pushing random buttons.

“Yes, badly.” So you taught him, which buttons to push and how much water to put in. Letting the coffee brew quietly behind you as you leaned on the counter listening to Quinn.

The next hour was spent making many pots of coffee, your fridge being emptied out by the team, with a promise to restock it for you, and even more stories from various team members.

Then it was time for the first part of the plan. Take Quinn mini-golfing.

Without telling him where you all were taking him, getting him to agree to go was a little harder, but manageable. More manageable when you took his keys from his pocket and made him sit in the passenger seat before you took his car without him.

“Mini-golf?” He grinned as he saw the sign, looking over at you driving.

“Yes, this is the first part of your birthday surprise from the team.” You smiled at him, parking his car beside Brock before getting out.

“Can I have my keys back?” Quinn asked, reaching for them in your hand.

“No, we have more places after.” He shook his head, laughing at the sight of you holding his keys behind your back. “Now, let’s go play!”

The game went good, the team split into groups to play sections of the course at a time, Quinn being the winner of your group.

“We let you win.” Elias mumbled, making you nod along. Quinn almost burst out laughing at the sight, letting out a strangled sound instead, his heart filled with joy.

“Sure sure.” He grinned, getting a light smack from Elias.

The entirety of the game had taken three hours, being slowed down by all the laughing and horribly missed shots.

2pm, just in time for the matinee. Getting the theatre to agree to replay Quinn’s favorite movie had been a bit harder of a task, needing approval from canucks admin to use team money to do so. But it was approved.

So once again you were driving Quinn’s car, him in the passenger seat, staring at you the entire drive, bringing him to another mystery destination.

“Where to know? More golf or?” He asked, staring at you in the mirror.

“You’ll find out in a minute.” He rolled his eyes, returning back to staring at you. “Why’re you staring, Quinny?”

“Can’t I stare at a beautiful girl?” Blush covered your cheeks, making you attempt to smack his arm for him instead to grab your hand. Holding it for the rest of the ride.

“The theatre?”

“Yep, come on!” You grabbed his arm, dragging him inside, quickly running into the line for concession. “What do you want?”

“Um-” Quinn hadn’t had time to answer before the two of you had made it to the front, letting you order first. Quinn nodded along, whispering to you that he’ll just steal your food.

“Could you add another large drink to that too please?” You added at the end, Quinn sending you a questioning look. “You can take my food, not my drink.”

He laughed, taking one of the drinks and following you into the room, the rest of the team trailing behind.

By the end of the movie your head was resting on Quinn’s shoulder, his hand holding yours. Keeping his hand in yours as you left the theatre, leading you back to his car.

“Can I drive my car yet?” He asked as you approached his car, making you shake your head.

“Nope, one more place for the night.” He just nodded, walking to the passenger seat quickly as you slid into the driver’s.

It was a short ride, arriving in perfect timing. 6pm. They had reserved Quinn’s favorite bar for the night, having it entirely to the team and other canucks management.

“Happy birthday, Quinny.” You smiled as you walked in with him, seeing the decorations put up around the bar.

The rest of the team followed shortly, ordering food and drinks, simply having a good time. Quinn’s face held a look of pure joy the entire night, keeping close to you, only disappearing when his brothers called. Yet he dragged you with him, pulling you down a random hallway for some quiet to answer the call.

“Happy birthday Quinner!” You could hear the boys yell over the phone, Quinn thanking them before admitting how much he missed them.

You knew Quinn loved his brothers, but you’d never been close enough to see how much. It was a heartwarming call, his parents calling the minute his brothers hung up, repeating the happy birthdays and I miss you’s.

The minute the call ended your arms wrapped around Quinn’s neck, pulling him into a hug, his arms quickly wrapping around your waist.

“If I would’ve known how much you missed them I would’ve tried harder to get them here, I’m sorry Quinny.”

“Oh, no baby, it’s okay, don’t cry over it.” He smiled, a soft, gentle smile as he saw the tears welling in your eyes.

“But you’re not with your family.”

“But I’m with a very special beautiful girl instead.” He smiled again, wiping the stray tear that fell.

It was like a magnetic force pulling you into Quinn, leaning in subconsciously until he pressed his lips against yours. Feeling your body melt into his, his arms around your waist, holding you against him.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since I first saw you.” Quinn whispered against your lips.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Had to wait to get it right.” He grinned kissing you again.

“Anyone seen Qu- Nevemind.” Tito’s words cutting off, wandering into the hallway. “I came to give you this,” He said, giving Quinn a small box as you hid your face in his chest. “Please don’t mind me, return to whatever I interrupted.” He laughed when he walked away, making you groan and lean further into Quinn.

“Oh no, I didn’t get you a present.” The realization hit you as Tito walked away, leaving you staring at the box he handed Quinn.

“I think you being my girl now is the best present ever.” Quinn smiled, his hand pressed into the small of your back as he turned, pressing you against the wall.

“Yeah? So I’m your girl now?”

“If you want to be.”

“I want to be.”

#mads' writing!#quinn hughes #nhl imagine #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #hughes brothers #nhl one shot

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crusty-chronicles · 7 months

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Airheaded S/O Headcannons #13: Gaara (Naruto)

Legitimately hates you when you first meet

Which to be fair, he kinda hated everyone during the Chuunin Exams

But something about you amplified that hatred

Maybe it was the fact you always had a dopey smile on your face

Maybe it was how you won your match against the sound ninja by stumbling around (literally tripping or looking around last second so their attack barley missed you)

Or maybe, just maybe it was because you were so nice to him.

Didn't you have a clue what he was?

What he was capable of?

All the horrible things he was planning on doing to one of your peers? (That Uchiha kid really did get on his nerves.)

It was truly disgusting, that smile of yours filled with so much warmth.

Then you'd volunteered to be his opponent when Sasuke was late. Your own opponent he'd killed the night before.

"Why don't we fight each other since the people we're supposed to fight are missing? It's better than sitting here and doing nothing."

And it was the audacity of you to address him so formally that made him agree.

He was going to enjoy defeating you. Finally shut you up once and for all.

But when the fight started, something about your demeanor changed.

It was more focused, your chakra somehow stronger.

There was no longer a fool in front of him.

And when the match started, he once again found himself on the offense.

Sand barely able to protect him against your speed. It was like he was fighting Rock Lee all over again

And that made him mad.

So mad that he became more aggressive with his attacks.

You now the one being pushed back.

It would have been evenly matched. Key word: would've.

But like the fool you were, you mis-stepped and took a direct hit from his sand.

The granules wrapping around you and preparing to crush you into nothing.

But before he could put you down for good, you extended your arm out.

"I surrender." And that bright smile was back.

"That was a good match. It truly was an honor to fight you, Gaara."

He stopped his attack immediately out of sheer confusion.

You were the enemy.

He was supposed to help destroy your village

Yet here you were treating him like he was more than that.

Like he wasn't just a monster.

You called fighting him an 'honor'. Something you enjoyed rather than being a nuisance like he thought.

What was wrong with you

Gaara thought a lot about that day.

How he almost destroyed the Leaf

How Naruto had completely changed his perspective on life.

But more often than not, he thought about you.

And when he finally got to see you again during Rock Lee's battle with Kimimaro, the first thing he did was apologize.

"It's a pleasure to be meeting you again. I'd like to apologize for my behavior during the Chuunin Exams, especially towards you."

The way your face lit up had his own reddening.

"Thank you! And it's nice to see you're doing better."

He realizes he's actually grown fond of your dopey smile.

Because of Gaara's soft spot for you, you're constantly doing runs for the Hokage to the Sand Village

It's mostly to keep relations peaceful between the villages, Gaara being the new Kazekage and all.

But you don't have a clue. You just think you get a free trip to see your friend 🥺🥺🥺

It's during your time there that Gaara really notices your lack of brain.

No, you can't put a smiley face as a signature on important documents.

Please stop jumping from tall heights so his sand will catch you. He can only control it so much.

You cannot be lost at a time like this. You were just behind him five minutes ago????

He practically follows you around like a lost puppy so you don't get hurt.

That means being your personal escort between villages.

Even though he knows you're more than capable of protecting yourself.

He just can't risk something happening to you.

You're too precious. (Being one of his first friends alongside Naruto.)

After confiding in Kankuro once, it's then he's told all warmth he feels from being near you is love.

Something he never thought he'd ever experience.

Something he was told he never deserved.

And he figures you must like him too with how adamant you are to stay by his side, right?

Maybe not

He doesn't exactly know how these things work.

Courting you is a process he is extremely unfamiliar with.

Tries to ask for help from his siblings

Kankuro suggests buying you gifts and 'flirting'

Tamari suggests he just outright tell you his feelings.

Both prove to be a trial-and-error process.

You're thankful for the little things he gives you, but your face doesn't redden as his does with you.

He tells you he likes your eyes only for it to turn back to him when you tell him he has a kind heart.

How is he to top that?

Tries Tamari's method and just feels more defeated.

"I enjoy the time you spend here with me."

"I like being here with you two 😃"

"I should rephrase. I like you."

"Me too. I'm so glad we're friends!"

He decides to go about it his own way and maybe, just maybe you'll return his feelings.

"Do you remember how I was back then?" He asked as the both of you sat atop a building. The sun just beginning to set.

"Yup. You were a little mean at the Chuunin Exams. I thought you were gonna kill me for a second."

And that makes him panic for a second because if you thought that back then, there was no way you'd return his feelings. But he pushed on. No use going back now.

"There's a reason for that. When I was a child, I was told I was undeserving of love. That I was brought into this world hated. My only purpose was to live for myself, everybody else wanted me to die."

He was stunned when you placed your hand on his.

"You are deserving of love and happiness. I love you, you know?"

He was not expecting this turn of events. He planned of finishing his rant with 'Now I have plenty to live for. You are one of those reasons.'

Not for you to outright say you loved him

It was so unexpected that he didn't realize he started crying until you fussed over him.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to make you cry!!! Please don't be sad!!!"

And he has to reassure you they're tears of happiness. That right now he was the most content he's ever been.

Because of your smooth brain, you ask him how he can be happy when he's crying.

He ends up pulling you into a kiss and that's where the dots connect for you.

Gaara has the biggest soft spot for you. It only makes sense that everything he calls you is with all the love he has.

Love, sweetheart, honey, dear, precious, my heart.

Not ashamed to call you all those things in public like some of the other candidates in this series.

Surprisingly, Gaara doesn't get jealous. He's very secure in his ability to make you happy and about your feelings for him. He doesn't doubt that for a second.

However, if you're gone too long on a mission, he might get a little insecure. The feeling is quickly gone as soon as you get back.

He is completely enamored with you and your heart. Your empty head is a quirk he's also learned to enjoy.

MASTERLIST

An: The final chapter to our main Airhead Stronk S/O series. That doesn't mean the series is officially over!!!! I'll be doing bonus chapters via requests or characters I think deserve love. They're probably gonna take a while tho so I can focus on finishing my Moon and Sun series. THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR SUPPORT

#gaara x reader #gaara x y/n #naruto x reader #naruto x y/n #sabaku no gaara #naruto shippuden #x reader #x y/n #airhead s/o #stronk s/o

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mypoisonedvine · 4 months

Note

81:"just come to dinner with me. it doesn't have to be weird." 89:"keep the lights on, I want to see you." 88:"kiss me like you mean it." With Jack Whiskey or maxwell Lord.

Hope your having a lovley day<3

-❄

I know he's not everybody's favorite but I want a sugar daddy maxwell fic sooo bad! to make it fair I decided to take some liberties with his look lmao

length: 2.5k (no clue how that happened...)

warnings: smut (18+ ONLY), oral f receiving, sugar daddy relationship, alcohol consumption, possessiveness <3

You’d never done anything like this before— you made that perfectly clear to him, to the point that you wondered if it would scare him off. But it didn’t, which was equal parts comforting and concerning.

However, even with all your complex emotions towards the idea, you agreed to it. Just come to dinner with me, he’d told you, it doesn’t have to be weird. Nothing has to happen— it’s just dinner, no expectations.

That relieved you enough to get you to go out with him. He’s not expecting anything, you promised yourself, it’s just dinner. Nothing has to happen.

But you still put on your nicest lingerie under your dress… just in case.

The whole thing made you feel out of place, honestly: you’d never been to a restaurant this nice, you’d never worn a designer gown before (let alone one that someone had picked out and sent to you for your first date), you’d never been picked up by a private driver—you didn’t even know what to do when you got to the restaurant, so you were a bit relieved (if certainly surprised) when you walked in and they seemed to already know you.

The host greeted you by name, took your coat, and informed you that Mr. Lord is already waiting for you at his usual table. That made you wonder if a girl like you was his usual guest.

Your heart picked up its pace when you saw him from across the restaurant; he looked like he fit right in, with his hair slicked back in a black tux. He looked so natural like that, you couldn’t even imagine him without a tux. (Well, you could, but you were trying not to.)

But, your heart didn’t really start racing until he saw you. His eyes lit up, and a tilted smile filled his face as he stood to greet you.

“Don’t you look gorgeous!” he purred, leaning in to kiss your cheek as you approached— even that caught you off-guard, but you realized it wasn’t meant to be especially flirtatious, it was just one of those rich people greetings. Then again, the arm that reached around you so his hand could rest momentarily on your lower back felt a bit more than friendly. “You like the dress?”

“Y-yes, thank you,” you smiled nervously as you looked down at the floor-length black gown again, “it’s beautiful. And more comfortable than it looks.”

He laughed a bit, squeezing your arm briefly before gesturing for you to take your seat. One waiter was already pouring your water and another was draping a white napkin over your lap and pushing in your seat; “White or red, miss?” the one pouring drinks asked.

“O-oh, um—” you began, but Maxwell interrupted.

“Why don’t you bring her a glass of the ’61 Chateau Haut-Brion?” he suggested. “To go with mine.”

“Of course, sir,” the waiter nodded, and soon him and his fellow servers departed.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Maxwell addressed you again, “the house wines are fine— but I think you’ll like this one, it’s excellent.”

“Oh, I trust you,” you smiled, “you know a lot more about all this than me.”

“Try not to feel too intimidated,” he assured, “almost everyone here is worrying just as much as you about looking like they belong—probably even more than you are. The only difference is, you actually have enough beauty to not be outshined by a place like this.”

A little uncomfortable with the compliment, you looked around the modern space— so much glass and crystal sparkling under pleasantly-dim lights, with a view out over the ocean just outside the window you’d been seated against. It was sleek and ornate all at once. “It really is a lovely place, thank you for taking me here,” you announced.

“Oh, I come here all the time— more than I should,” he laughed. “I’ll warn you now, you might become addicted once you get a taste.”

A brief moment passed before he quirked a brow.

“Of the food, I mean,” he winked, and you giggled a bit.

“Right— should I, um, look at a menu?” you wondered.

“It’s actually a set course tonight,” he explained, “I hope you don’t mind. Honestly, I prefer not having to think about it— and the chef here never misses. He’s a good friend, actually.”

“I get the feeling you’re good friends with a lot of people,” you observed, and he gave you a knowing smile.

“Should I be offended?” he asked.

“No,” you laughed, “but you seem like you’re always getting in places, always getting special treatment or private access— ‘cause the theater owner is a good friend, the executive producer is a good friend…”

“You make me sound much more popular than I am,” he shrugged.

The waiter returned with a bottle in hand, showing the label to you and Maxwell. “The Chateau Haut-Brion you requested, Mr. Lord?”

“Fabulous, thank you,” Maxwell smiled as the waiter uncorked the bottle and poured glasses for you both.

“The first course will be out shortly,” the man explained before he departed; you reached for your glass, about to take a sip, but your date raised his own.

“A toast,” he suggested, making you stop pulling your glass closer and holding it up in anticipation instead, “to… new friends.”

You smiled and clinked your glass against his.

You tried not to look too starstruck as you looked around the penthouse apartment, but it was hard to hide your awe at all the fine art on the walls, the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittery city below, the vintage and baroque furniture…

“I haven’t been here in a few weeks,” he explained as he sauntered inside after letting you in, “forgive me if it looks a little barren— I’ve been in my home in California for some time to manage my work there, I only visit my apartments occasionally—”

“You have more than one?!” you realized, unable to suppress the urge to gawk, and he smiled as you looked back over your shoulder at him.

“I have quite a few properties, yes,” he nodded. “Miami, Berlin, Hong Kong— all of these, of course, would be available to you whenever you’d like to visit, if you were to…”

He trailed off, approaching you as his eyes darkened a bit. “If I was to…?” you prompted.

You shivered slightly when he reached up to run his fingers gently along the curve of your jaw. “If you were to accept my offer.”

You swallowed, turning to face him properly, and sighed when his other hand came to rest on your waist. “A-and, if I was to…” you trailed off, apparently still not proud enough to say it, “would there be… anyone else?”

“No,” he shook his head, “not for either of us. That’s not what I want.”

He’d explained to you before, in a few different ways, what he did want. He’d explained that he enjoyed ‘dating’ this way because it took out the guesswork, because he was too busy for a traditional relationship. He needed a partner who could work around his complex schedule— and to soften the blow, he would send gifts to fill the time while he was gone. All he really asked was that you stay ready and waiting for him to return— or even to be ready to drop everything and hop on a private jet to come see him wherever he was when he needed you most.

The look in his eyes certainly showed that he needed you now. You knew that if you told him you didn’t want this— or even just that you didn’t want anything to happen tonight— he would be polite and sweet and have a car take you home. But you also got the feeling that if you said any of that, he would see right through it.

You wanted this too. It was sort of obvious, especially as your hands snaked up his chest over the fabric of his tux, resting on his shoulders as you looked up at him expectantly.

“Why don’t you tell me what you want, beautiful?” he suggested in a low voice.

“I… I want,” you began hesitantly, having to look away to find the courage to say it, “I want you to tell me what to do.”

He smiled a bit, lifting your chin and guiding you to look up at him again. “Kiss me like you mean it.”

You felt strange about that wording— like he thought you didn’t genuinely want this and just tolerated it in exchange for the money. Which wasn’t true, but then again, it is hard to turn a man down when you’re wearing the thousand-dollar dress he bought for you.

And, of course, you kissed him. You wove your fingers into the hair at the back of his neck, shutting your eyes and sighing as he tightened his grip on your waist; he wrapped you up in his arms, slowly and gently, and hummed lowly against your lips. There was something about it that was different from every other first kiss you’d had (or possibly every other kiss you’d ever had) but you completely lacked the words to describe it. Maybe it was how careful he was with you, how oddly patient; or maybe it was how quickly you found yourself wanting more.

You opened your mouth slightly, letting him delve deeper with his tongue, though he wasn’t too aggressive about it at first. It was still sweet and slow, and you relaxed further as you pressed your body to his.

He broke away sooner than you wanted him to, and you watched his eyes scan over your face before they drifted to your shoulder— where his hand was tracing over the strap of your dress, teasing that he might slide it down at any moment. You found yourself wishing he would, but instead he brought his eyes back to your own.

“Would you mind if I showed you the bedroom?” he suggested.

“Not at all,” you breathed.

You didn’t get a very thorough tour, not when you were stumbling backwards through the door as his hands ran all over you. He quickly flipped on the light switch as he walked past it, only for you to reach and turn it off again. He smiled playfully at you as he broke his lips away. “Now, darling, how am I supposed to show you the bedroom in the dark?” he mused.

“You can show me after,” you sighed, trying to tug him by the jacket into another kiss, but he resisted with a smug grin.

“After,” he repeated with a low, rich voice that seemed to wash right over you. “But what we’re about to do, I don’t want to do in the dark, either— you’re much more exciting to look at than some boring old bedroom that’s been on the cover of Architectural Digest…”

You laughed a little, but he bit his lip as he pulled you closer to him.

“Keep the lights on,” he pleaded— or maybe demanded, “I want to see you.”

You flipped the lights back on, and he almost turned that designer gown to shreds getting it off you.

He growled as he got a glimpse of your lingerie, and you bit your lip through a smile when he met your gaze again. “Oh, angel— you’ll spoil me.”

He dropped to his knees in front of you, making you gasp slightly as he delicately ran his fingers along the lacy hem of your panties.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he sighed, “I need to taste you.”

“Fuck,” you mumbled, “o-okay, whatever you want.”

Looking up at you, he shot you a glittering smile. “Get used to saying that, beautiful.”

You shuddered, just as he pulled the panties down and dove between your legs.

You felt a bit undignified with him burying his mouth against you while you were standing up; your knees wobbled and he grabbed onto your hips to help keep your balance, sliding his tongue out between your lips.

“Fuck!” you gasped, reaching down and grabbing a handful of his hair greedily. He moaned against you, shutting his eyes tighter, lapping at you eagerly. He pulled away far too soon, and you whimpered before he beamed up at you with slick lips.

“Get on the bed,” he demanded.

You didn’t need a tour of the room to find that: you stepped out of your panties and fell back onto it, smiling at him as he quickly slipped off his jacket and climbed up over you with an insatiable look on his face, his dark hair broken out of its style by your touch and dangling down around his face.

“Take this off,” he instructed, running a finger over your bra as he balanced himself to hover over you.

You sat up enough to reach behind your back, unfastening the garment and shimmying out of it to toss aside onto the floor.

His gaze raked over you lasciviously. “Forgive me,” he breathed, “if I can’t find the heart to take my time with you like I imagined.”

You felt your heart skip, just before he descended and kissed you again, the tangy taste of your own arousal making you moan in the back of your throat. The kiss was filthier and needier than ever, and quickly moved down to your neck; your back arched up off the satin sheets as his tongue traced your pulse.

“I could spend all night,” he panted between heady kisses, “tasting you everywhere.”

“God,” you whimpered, “I won’t stop you.”

“And what if I want to spend the whole night inside you?” he challenged further, making you whine and stir under him. He pressed his weight down on you as you slowly spread your legs; you felt suddenly aware of him still being almost entirely dressed while you were stripped to nothing, and it somehow only made you more desperate for him.

“Please,” you begged, feeling his teeth scrape your neck as his hips rocked against yours. You gasped feeling how hard he was, and it turned into a proper moan as one of his hands groped roughly at your chest. “Fuck, Max—”

“When you say my name like that, I’m not sure how I’m supposed to control myself,” he growled, pulling back to look down at you.

“Then don’t,” you offered with a smirk.

“Just promise me one thing,” he began, surprising you with the change of his tone. “If we do this… you’re mine.”

Your throat caught on nothing.

“If you can’t handle that, I understand,” he mitigated, “but I can’t pretend that I feel any differently— I need you, all to myself. I need to know that you belong to me.”

You found yourself nodding before you even really thought it through. “I’m yours,” you promised as you clutched desperately at his shirt, making him smile proudly. “Fuck, I’m all yours.”

He kissed you—not as ruthless as the last one, but still plenty passionate. This time, you were completely sure you’d never been kissed like this.

“I want you to say that,” he purred against your lips, “every time I make you come.”

#maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut

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akutasoda · 5 months

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Hello! Can I request fyodor, Nikolai and chuuya having a dream that their s/o cheated on them?

you'd never leave, would you?

synopsis - they dream you've cheated on them and even though they know it's not true they can't help but seek reassurance

includes - chuuya, fyodor, nikolai

warnings - gn!reader, angst to comfort, mentions of cheating, accusations of chraring?, petnames, reader hot on in nikolai's, wc - 1.2k

chuuya nakahara ★↷

he hadn't really been having a great day. the boss kept assigning him work after work and therefore he had to spend a fair share of evenings stuck at his desk or put on the field instead of the comforting embrace of you. what made it worse for him was that your schedule didn't align either.

so when he was finally having a rest, you were busy with either work or something else. so he hadn't properly seen or hung out with you for a while and somewhere in his stressed filled mind he started imagining the worst. and as he walked into your shared bedroom he almost forgot everything.

seeing you so relaxed made him feel more relaxed. he quickly got ready for bed and slipped under the covers beside you, careful not to wake you and eventually drifted to sleep. except it wasn't pleasant. within a short amount of time he began tossing and turning.

why? because somewhere in his mind he had the awful thought that all this time you were out, you were cheating on him. his dream reduced him to a nervous wreck and he was shook awake. you had been woken by his tossing and turning and seeing the look of discomfort and pain on his face made you quickly shake him awake.

he was startled as you look at him concerned asking him something along the lines of 'is everything ok?'. he could only stare at you. he was ashamed he even considered the thought of you doing such a thing and he didn't want to say anything as he didn't want to seem as though he was accusing you of anything.

so he responded with a shake of his head as he wrapped his arms around your torso and pulling you back down beside him. and before you both began sleeping again, he lifted his hand, his pinky out infront of you. you could faintly make it out in the dark and linked yours with his as he said 'promise to stay with me?'

fyodor dostoevsky ★↷

alot of the time, fyodor spent a longer than average time sat infront of his rather excessive amount of monitors. sometimes you would join him but you honestly couldn't see how he could sit there for as long as he could as you got very bored after a while.

especially because the most response you could get out of him was a simple hum or nod. and besides you did have a life outside of your relationship. but nowadays you found yourself more and more busy with said life. whether ot was hanging with friends or working, you barely had time to spend time with fyodor.

and it's not like he made an effort. so the most you would see of him would be briefly before you went to bed. and fyodor was a rather rational person so he assumed you were always just so exhausted and he respected that.

but as his eyes drroped a bit from exhaustion, he couldn't seem to help but let his mind wander, to drift to less than desirable scenarios. some of which involved you and other people. he immediately stilled and thought over the absolutely horrific scenario his mind played him. you. you with someone else. someone that wasn't him.

now he would never accuse you of doing so as a small part of him was arrogant enough to be rather cocky of your relationship, but considering the past weeks he felt more inclined to indulge that idea. he cleared his throught as he stood up, he wasn't going to allow such scenarios to distort his view but he had to check.

he saw you were fast asleep by the point of which he entered the bedroom and he felt a little bad for waking you. you stirred before waking up as you sleep filled voice ran out a simple 'what?'. he didn't really want to be direct about the subject but he still wanted to address it.

so he settled for the simple statement of 'dear, would you ever consider cheating on me?'. he secretly feared you answer as he dreaded you uttering the words yes but instead you returned a very sleepy 'no, whatever gave you that idea?'. he smilrd to himself before uttering a 'nothing before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

but you reacted quickly and dragged him next to you. nestling into his side as you muttered a 'now stay' as you caged him in your arms.

nikolai gogol ★↷

he was never one not to create elaborate scenarios in his head. he also enjoyed dragging you out with him. so after a very long day he decided he just wanted to see you and be with you for the evening. but he could barely sit still for five minutes.

and that's what lead to you beibg dragged around by him until he found a bar suitable for his mood. and whether or not you were one for this kind of scene, today you really just didn't feel like doing much. completely ignoring everyone else around you and focusing on your conversation with nikolai.

eventually nikolai excused himself for two minutes and so you turned your attention to idly swirling around your drink as you zoned out. you heard someone sit back next to you and assuming it was nikolai you looked up with a smile, just for that smile to drop as you realised it was a stranger.

they started talking to you and no amount of disinterest on your end would stop them. even as you internally wanted to just leave, you wanted to wait for nikolai. you thought they would never shut up and that was until nikolai came storming back over immediately grabbing your hand and dragging you back home.

you were silently very glad and much enjoyed just staying at home with nikolai. but he seemed off. and that was due to the fact that he saw someone else trying to hit on you and for some reason, tonight his mind drifted to rather different scenarios.

his mind was clouded with questions suxh as would you ever cheat on him? did you have any interest in anyone else? and more. you noticedhe seemed distant so when the front door closed you turned him to face you.

you brought your hands up to his face, cupping it as you asked what was wrong, even though you had a pretty good idea. he'd never looked so sad before and it made you worry. he pushed your concerns away before resuming his normal cheerful mood. but you weren't convinced.

so when nikolai was shaking you awake you knew exactly what was up. he couldn't shake the questions away and eventually shot up like a bullet from his nightmare. taking a minute to assess where he was he immediately looked for you. a bit surprised he hadn't woken you but he needed you so he begrudgingly woke you.

he seeked out your embrace as he expressed his concerns with his head buried in your shoulder as your sleep muddled brain barely worked out much but you knew what was happening. you returned the words by offering nothing but comfort and promises that you'd never dare such a thing.

eventually you both drifted off to sleep and he felt more content. he did have faith that you'd never dare cheat on him but he still couldn't help it, especially when he got jealous.

#x reader #x gender neutral reader #bsd x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #dazai x reader #bsd x you #bsd chuuya #chuuya x reader #bsd fyodor #fyodor x reader #bsd nikolai #nikolai x reader

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avengersassemble-fics · 3 months

Text

All I Wanted

chapter 02 "remember to slow down" master list previous chapter ‣ ‣ ‣ next chapter word count 5.3k (fuck) ☆ cursing ♡ smut dress inspo bc im a visual person

The days that followed that night were a delicate dance, or like stepping on eggshells. There was an unspoken tension between you and Jake that hadn’t been there before, at least not ever that you two would acknowledge. It was like that one drunken night back in college, when Jake had come by for a visit when he could manage to slip away from flight school and a night on the town turned into barely making it back to your small student apartment. You two never spoke about that night. Ever.

And now, there was a second night you two wouldn’t ever speak of. When he finally became aware of your guilt.

So what do two people do when there’s tension they can’t address? Ignore it, and throw themselves into “busy” routines. Jake had a routine where he went for a run every morning at 7AM, which left you alone to shower and leisurely wake up at your own pace. By the time he’d return by 8:30 on the dot, you’d have breakfast ready for him when he finished his shower. You weren’t sure if he ever noticed the way your gaze lingered on the beads of sweat that would slip down between his abs.

If he did, he never said anything about it. But.. Jake did notice it, how couldn’t he? He was watching you like a hawk, knowing better than anyone else the turmoil in your mind. You were an overthinker, and even though he had begged you to stop fighting this, stop fighting him, you were too damn stubborn to listen.

Just like he had caught you admiring him, Jake admired you. When he’d get back from his runs and could tell you had showered because your hair still was damp, he would spend the next several hours watching as it dried. He’d be able to see the way your skin glowed from whatever lotion you had used afterwards, and he could smell it from even the farthest side of the room.

And despite the busy routines, there were moments that betrayed the cracks in the facade. When there were moments of laughter, they were quickly followed by silence that suffocated the room. Or the times where Jake goes to pass you in the kitchen and his hand sweeps along your waist as he brushes past, there’s an unspoken weight to it. There were even a few times where you’d start to say something and catch yourself, deciding it best to leave it be. Jake did it too. You both noticed it.

Putting aside whatever was brewing in that house between you two, the facade had to go on.

Invited to your parents 30th wedding anniversary, Jake and you had to buckle up for a night of normalcy, or whatever you two deemed normal at this point. At this point, lying to your family and friends had become the easiest part of this marriage!

Figures.

Your parents weren’t shy when it came to throwing around money, which sounds confusing considering you had been drowning in medical bills and credit card debt before your knight in shining fighter jet came to your rescue. Their money was theirs, they paid for your college education which not a lot of people can say they got the same luxury, but beyond that you had to make it on your own. You were fine with that, it’s what you always expected.

To be fair to them.. You didn’t tell them you were sick. Maybe if they had known, they would’ve helped, but you never wanted to know for sure. You had been dead set you could handle it yourself and Jake was the only one who could see that while, yes, you could.. You’d never be happy or you again without some kind of shoulder to lean on.

You mentioned money because the sheer cost of renting out Meanwhile Brewing, a craft brewery and taproom in south Austin, was a number you couldn’t comprehend. It put into perspective how deep their pockets were to have been able to rent out a place of this magnitude, including bottomless drinks.

When Jake and you arrived, he had insisted on helping you out of the truck, feigning it was due to your attire, but really he wanted a chance to hold you even for a moment. From the second he saw you walk out of the closet the two of you shared, he was taken back.

Satin warm toned silver, thinly strapped, hugging the best of your curves and valleys and falling just to the mid of your calf, not to mention the slit on the side that came to the midpoint of your thigh. And don’t even get him started on the way the neckline draped elegantly just over the crest of your breasts.

It was going to be a long fucking night, and Jake needed to help you out of the truck. It was a desperate attempt to get his hands on you that worked perfectly in his favor. As soon as he had your feet firm on the ground, Jake let out a low whistle of appreciation.

“Remind me to thank your mother for picking this number out for you,” Jake said before letting his grip on your waist go (reluctantly). The way your face scrunched up and you hit his arm made him grin.

“Shut up,” you mumbled and adjusted the fabric. Fuck.. Was he wishing he was satin fabric right now?.. Yes. “You don’t mean that.”

“Can’t a man compliment his wife?” Jake asked as you linked your arm with his and started to walk through the parking lot towards the back of the property, where already music was blaring and chatter was being made. “Or at least compliment her mom?”

“Oh I’m sure my mom would love some compliments from you,” you encouraged him as you two made it to the epicenter of the gathering. There were groups scattered over the grounds, and you were.. Kind of amazed your parents had this many friends. “I’m not even the tiniest bit surprised she got your measurements down to the smallest millimeter.”

“Don’t remind me,” Jake said as he readjusted his sports coat. It was a nice cream that complimented your dress. And your mother got his whole look tailored just perfectly. “Drink?”

“Gonna need it,” you admitted and he laughed, low and close to your temple as he pressed a kiss to the top of your heads.

“Coming right up,” Jake said before taking his arm from yours and disappearing towards the taproom. You looked around the party in search of your parents.. There was no way you wouldn’t be able to pick them out from this crowd-

The sound of obscene laughter and cute snorts filled the air and immediately you were drawn to it. It was an all too familiar sound you grew up with and used to agonize over when you feared judgment from your friends. Now, it was easy to find them in this large expanse of night sky and warm bulbs lights strung around the buildings.

Just as you neared your father spotted you and his expression softened.

“There’s my girl,” he said and went to wrap his around around your shoulder, which you returned by encasing his side. Your mother was mid sip of a drink when she hummed.

“You came!” She exclaimed and you laughed slightly.

“Jake and I wouldn’t miss this,” you reassured her.

“Where is that handsome sailor anyway?” She asked looking around. You had to bite back a laugh. The fact your mother was this sprung out so early in the evening would ensure some fun.

At Jake’s expense.

“He’s just getting some drinks for us,” you explained and your father was quick to take hold of his other half, already knowing where this was headed.

“Let’s get some water in you sweetheart,” he said and you could see the care in his gaze. He led her away towards one of the buildings and disappeared from your view.

It was touching, it was.. what you had always wanted. To be looked at like that.

“Is that you, (L/N)?”

Forced from your thoughts, you turned to the new intrusion and faltered slightly.

“Ben?” You asked with a slight smile.

Ben was your high school sweetheart, the guy you had the second most first with (second to Jake of course). While Jake had been the hot star football player, Ben was the hot marching band drum major. Two total opposites. Jake was walking charm, Ben had kept that charm for the right people who knew him best. The only things they had in common were.. well that they were hot.

And Ben still was. While Jake was ashy blonde and green eyes, Ben was black hair and deep brown eyes that screamed warmth. You hadn’t seen him since you two broke up during sophomore year of college. Just before Jake visited actually.

Ben’s eyes danced over you and you felt something flicker through your mind. They were eyes that had seen you before, but it had been so long that he needed a reminder.

You saw the way his gaze lingered on your hand. You knew what he was going to ask when he met your gaze once more.

“Married?” He asked and you nodded.

“I am,” you admitted. Ben shook his head a bit, though you knew he wasn’t being serious. “You?”

“No,” he said quickly before clearing his throat. “Nearly, but no.”

“I’m sorry,” you offered and he shrugged.

“Nothin’ to apologize for. Just wasn’t meant to be,” Ben said and glanced you over one more time. “Do I even need to ask who the lucky guy is?”

Your brows furrowed slightly at his question. “I don’t know.. do you?”

Ben laughed and you found yourself reliving the past. What was it with all the memories recently.

“My money’s on anyone but Seresin,” Ben joked but when your expression didn’t change, but his did - into a frown. “Shit. Seresin?”

“Yeah,” you said and Ben shook his head. “Seresin.”

“Huh,” Ben said and you found yourself.. on edge. Speaking of, where was Jake anyways? “That.. surprises me. I guess I should’ve known when I saw him-“

“You saw him?” You asked and he nodded.

“Yeah in the taproom-“

“Sorry,” you barely excused yourself and headed in that direction. You managed to get through the turf grass to the taproom and stepped inside.

Just as littered with people as the outdoors, you scanned your eyes over the different faces and figures mingling. That was until you found him, talking to a blonde who was too close for your comfort.

Never once did you seriously consider this. You told yourself you’d rather not know what Jake did while deployed, or who he did. It wasn’t your business, not really. This wasn’t real!

So why did it hurt so much to see him let a woman stand that close, let her hand linger on him, let her look at him like she was? Like she wanted to steal him away and fuck him in the back of the truck he drove you two here in?

Too engrossed in the blonde and her figure, to your perspective, he didn’t notice you. You slipped back outside and the nearest drink you could manage to get in your hand was quickly down your throat and then came another. As you held this one though, your hand trembled slightly.

Retreating outside felt like a necessary escape, that same unsettled feeling of guilt settled in. You didn’t have a right to be upset. Jake wasn’t yours, not really. He could’ve been fucking other women for the last year and it wasn’t your business if that was the case.

Lost in your thoughts, a hand to your back startled you and you looked up to meet that all too familiar gaze.

“Woah- you ok, sunshine?” Jake asked and you bobbed your head in a nod. He eyed the drink in your hand, then down to the two he was holding onto.

“How’d you get that?” He asked and you shrugged.

“Taproom.”

You could see his hesitation, that raised brow and quick glance over of your stance. Defensive.

Shit. Jake wasn’t stupid. You must have come looking for him and saw him chatting to the complete stranger who had approached him.

If things weren’t already tense enough, it’d be worse now. Jake didn’t want to fold completely though.

“Is that so?” Jake asked in a measured tone.

You saw?

"Yup," you replied, maintaining a façade of nonchalance.

You saw. You saw him with someone else, and even though the rational part of your mind knew you had no right to feel upset, the emotional turmoil bubbled beneath the surface.

Jake’s jaw was uncharacteristically tightened as he could only nod and let out a small grunt. When you did finish the drink in your hand, you took the one he had gotten you that now became your third drink of the evening.

Unfortunately, for you, Jake didn’t leave your side for the rest of the night. Drink after drink, he was forced to watch you get sloshed, trying to mingle with your parents and keep you in check. He wouldn't classify you as a messy drunk, but at this moment you sure as hell were teetering on the line. You could barely hold a glass without a tremble in your hand.

What Jake didn’t know was the tremble wasn’t from your inebriation.

“Maybe we should slow down a bit,” he tried to tell you around 10 o’clock. He had hoped your parents were going to be wrapping up this thing, but turns out old people like to party too. “You can barely catch your footing.”

“Maybe you should mind your business,” you said with a roll of your neck. “Hubby.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed at your tone. Those around the two glanced over with slight concern but more so annoyance. Again.. You were teetering on that fine line of becoming a pain in his ass tonight.

“(Y/N)-” he tried to grab your hand but you pulled away from him a few steps.

“I’m gonna go find someone who won’t lecture me.. Mmm.. Ben,” you said over your shoulder and Jake swore he saw God at that moment. A quick flash of him at least.

“Excuse me? Woah hey-” Jake said as he followed behind you as you walked along the perimeter of the turf grass, between the brewery and the taproom. He grabbed you by the arm and spun you back into him, careful to not be too forceful but luckily with a few drinks in ya, you were nimble. “Did you just say Ben? As in your ex Ben who played the clarinet?”

“Saxophone,” you corrected and Jake rolled his eyes. “Y’know he’s the only person to tell me he was surprised we got married?”

“That’s because he’s an idiot,” Jake tried to say and you turned to face him with a scowl.

“You’re an idiot,” you mumbled and Jake scoffed.

“Sorry, what was that? I couldn’t hear you,” he said as he leaned in with his ear and you pressed your finger into his chest.

“I bet you could hear that blonde,” you muttered and Jake hesitated.

“That’s what this is about?” He asked and you shook your head no, taking a few steps back but he was quick to match each one. “The chick in the taproom?”

“Oh so you can hear,” you laughed and Jake nearly growled. Whatever escaped his throat was heavy and irritated. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t like it.

..Why?

“So you’re drunk and jealous, is that it?” Jake asked as he towered over you. “It was nothing.”

“I’m not drunk.. Or jealous,” you tried to argue but the way your eyes couldn’t focus and the knot in your stomach told you otherwise, so you cleared your throat. “She wanted you.”

“Sunshine, even your mom wants me.”

“Gross,” you said with a shake of your head, missing the way he grinned. “Please don’t ever say that again.”

“You started it,” Jake said and couldn’t help but laugh. But his laugh which normally was sweet to your ears only further annoyed you. His dumb laugh, dumb sandy hair, dumb perfect smile..

“Don’t laugh at me,” you mumbled.

“Then stop being ridiculous,” Jake argued. “I would never dream of pickin’ up someone at your parents' party, which I came to with you.. You think that low of me?”

You hated that he was talking with reason, making sense. But it didn’t ease that knot in your stomach that was screaming at you that he had liked the other woman’s attention.

“No,” you finally admitted. “Never.”

“So you’re not mad at me?” He pressed as he stepped closer, drawing your hands towards his chest and running his thumb over the back of your wrists.

Dumb smile, dumb eyes, dumb touch..

“No,” you whispered. “Never mad at my aviator.”

“That’s my girl,” he whispered and lifted your hands so he could place a quick kiss to your knuckles. While you felt a flush of warmth through your spine at his words, it was only then that Jake seemed to notice the true tremble in your hands and his grip tightened slightly.

“I’ll text your dad and let him know we’re goin’ home,” Jake stated, more so than asked, you were mid-grumble when he shook his head. “How many times do I have to keep telling you to stop fightin’ me?”

“One more time,” you challenged and Jake felt his heart drop. He was sure you weren’t aware of what you were doing to him but jesus fuck was he starting to lose his cool.

“C’mere,” Jake practically growled. He dipped low to hook his arm with ease under your ass and lifted you up and onto a shoulder. With a yelp you clutched onto his back and scowled at nothing as Jake’s legs started back towards the parking lot.

“Put me down, Seresin,” you commanded weakly. Really, there was a tight knot in your lower belly. You felt him tighten his grip on your thighs.

“No can do, Seresin,” he countered and you huffed.

With ease, Jake was able to walk you to his truck, with you thrown over his shoulder. You gave up fighting and let him carry you limp to the truck. With ease, he opened the passenger door and set you in the seat and even buckled you in.

“I put you down,” he said with a shit eating grin and you rolled your head away from looking at him.

“Shut up,” you muttered and he laughed.

“Oh come on, ease up lightweight,” Jake chuckled as he closed your passenger door. With him having to walk around the truck to get into the driver seat, it allowed you time to stew a little bit.

Why was Jake so.. Jake? Y’know? Perfect. He could piss you off but then easily make you smile and laugh and be comfortable again. He just threw you over his shoulder to take you home - his home, your home. At the end of the day.. He was always there each night.

Maybe you were a little tipsy, because you don’t even remember the drive. The only thing that shook you from your thoughts was your door being pulled open and Jake undoing your belt and watching you with a raised brow.

“Do I need to throw you over my shoulder again?” Jake asked. You shook your head.

“Nope,” you declined, making sure the p popped in the air. Jake stepped aside and you slipped out the seat to the rocky ground, your bare feet meeting the dull rocks. Jake, in turn, grabbed your heels from the floor of the passenger side and followed you to the house, hand just at the small of your back to guide you up the steps.

Wordlessly you two went to your room and you were immediately letting your hair down from the clip that had held it up all night. Jake, as watchful as ever, took his sports coat off and tossed it onto the bench at the edge of the bed, and started to undo the buttons of his shirt.

“Unzip me?” You asked him and he was all too happy to do so. Jake stepped up behind you, one hand on your hip and the other finding the small zipper on your back and tugging it downwards

Fuckin’ hell. The more skin exposed to him, the more he realized there was no bra under this dress of sin. The fabric fell open as the zipper ended at your hips and he was reluctant to take his hand away. Very fucking reluctant.

“Thanks,” you said breathlessly and he had to watch as you disappeared into the bathroom, holding the dress up by your chest. Jake ran a hand over his face. His patience and control was paper thin. How was he going to.. Handle this? Handle you? The thought of how bare you were, how easily he could get his hands on you was making him get hotter by the second.

Cooling his thoughts, the bathroom door reopened and there you were once again in one of his shirts, and it fell high on your thighs (those soft merciless thighs). You crawled into bed and stared at him and he felt uncomfortable under your gaze.

“What?” Jake asked, hating how his tone sounded nervous. You didn’t notice.

“You called me a lightweight,” you said and Jake nodded.

“Because you are-”

“You wanna talk about lightweight?” You asked him and Jake scowled slightly. “You remember right?”

“C’mon don’t bring it up,” Jake whined, having undone his dress shirt and tossed it onto the bench as well.

“You got so fuckin’ hammered that night when my roommate turned you down,” you said before giggling. “And I mean.. it was brutal.”

“Yeah and you were a mighty piece of work that night too,” Jake reminded you and you groaned softly, covering your face with your hands. “Being a baby over your loser ex breaking up with you.”

“You didn’t seem to mind.”

It was a mumble but he heard you loud and clear. The night in question was never brought up, yet here you were.. being so fucking casual about it.

“Maybe not,” Jake admitted.

Fall, Sophomore year at UT. October 12th.

Reeling from your just two week fresh heartbreak thanks to Ben breaking up with you via text, you weren’t totally surprised when Jake showed up at your apartment after days of radio silence. Unexpected but so appreciative of his efforts, you had done your best to welcome him with open arms.

And that led him right into your roommates arms. Or, atleast that’s what he wanted that night. He was immediately smitten with the walking sex that was your roommate, and for some reason.. that bothered you.

She mentioned going to a party, he was all for it. And he fit right into the frat boy scene, getting to drink beer with the guys of the house and have women ogle at him all night long. Sure, he’d manage to catch you and here and there, but beyond that you were left to drink by yourself.

“There you are,” your roommate managed to find you at some point in the night. You were a few beers in by then. “Where’s your army guy?”

“Navy,” you corrected but she didn’t react. “I dunno. Disappeared awhile ago.”

“He asked me out,” your roommate admitted and something in you dropped. Probably just the alcohol. “Don’t worry- I said no. I couldn’t do that to you.”

“It’s none of my business,” you mumbled and sipped the lukewarm beer. Disgusting.

“Oh come on, you’re totally into him,” she said and nudged you.

“We’re just friends. I mean I’ve known him for like.. six years?”

“So?” She asked with a raised brow. “He drove all the way here from San Diego.. For you. If that doesn’t scream he’s into you or desperately wants to fuck you then I don’t know what does.”

Her remark stayed with you through the rest of the night. Finally getting tired of the smell of the frat house and the increasingly intoxicated crowd, you pushed your way through to find Jake, who was just finishing wiping the floor with a group playing pool.

“Hey,” you said over the music, placing a hand to his arm. Jake turned to face you and grinned.

“There’s my sunshine,” he said as he threw his arm around your shoulder. “My favorite person.”

“You’re drunk,” you commented and he chuckled.

“Doesn’t change nothin’,” Jake said and kissed the top of your head. “Still my favorite person.”

“Okay pilot, why don’t we head back?” You asked and after some persuasion he agreed.

Getting Jake back to your place was a challenge in and of itself. He was chatty with anyone who walked past, it seemed like he was really laying into you as you walked through the campus, and he was just a handful. Jake never got like this.. But this trip so far was a lot of firsts.

When you managed to get him back to your place and through the front door, you both were a stumbling mess. Alcohol induced laughs and chatter flowed fine between you two. You eased him to sit on the couch and he sprawled out, throwing his arms over the back of the couch and looking you over.

“I’m gonna change,” you said and disappeared into your room. Stripping from your jeans and shirts, you slipped on some shorts and your fingers grazed over the new shirt you plucked from your closet. It was Ben’s. Still, you slid it on and walked back into the living room and Jake’s brows furrowed.

“Oh come on.. you’re really gonna keep wearin’ his shit?” Jake asked as he stood, moving closer to you.

“It’s just a shirt,” you argued and he shook his head.

“Take it off.”

“..What?” You asked dumbfounded, but Jake’s eyes.. they were dark and clouded, and so fucking hot.

Without another word, Jake lifted his shirt up and over his head, exposing his perfectly toned body underneath. His abs had abs, there was light hair over him that trailed low. And you meant low. Finally able to tear your eyes away to meet his gaze, he was watching you taking him in.

“Take it off,” he repeated, his voice low and intimidating.

You weren’t sure what it was that made you obey but fuck did you carefully lift your shirt off, exposing your soft flesh underneath, only concealed by the old bra you were wearing. But Jake didn’t seem to mind, his eyes lingering on your chest and the way it rose and fell with heavy breaths. Then, he handed over his shirt.

Taking it from him and putting your arms through and over your head, you looked down at the decal before looking up to meet his gaze.

“Better,” he whispered.

There was a tension, a shock in the air as you both lingered before one another. You most definitely weren’t confident enough to make the first move, so lucky for you - Jake was confident enough for the two of you.

“Do y’know how fuckin’ stupid he is?” Jake asked as he closed the gap, his chest so close you swore it warmed you up. “Giving’ you up?”

“Jake-“

“Stop,” he whispered, his head dipping lower as he edged closer. “You’re all I can think about. Even with all this distance between us you drive me fuckin’ wild.”

His fingers lightly traced a path along the curve of your jaw, leaving a trail of tingling sensation in their wake. With a gentle tilt of his head, and his dog tags hitting your chest, Jake captured your lips in a kiss that melted you.

It was slow, tantalizing. His lips moved against yours with a tender urgency, like if he stopped this would disappear. He was kissing you as if savoring the taste of something forbidden and sweet. His hands cupped your face, holding you in place while his tongue darted out over your lower lip, begging to be let in.

And you let him. Jake’s tongue swirled with yours, eager to feel every bit of you he could, like he had been dreaming of devouring you for years. Your hands splayed across his chest, feeling every nook and cranny his chiseled front had to offer. And when your hands danced lower to the waistband of his jeans, an enticing growl escaped his throat. He broke the kiss, letting his lips linger with yours as he breathed you in, and you did just the same.

“Fuck be careful,” he warned you but you shook your head. “You don’t know how long I’ve thought about this.”

“Enlighten me,” you whispered. A small smile broke out over his face and he took you up on the challenge. Picking you up, hands on your ass, he hoisted you up and you wrapped your arms around his neck, and legs around his waist. His arousal was evident as you felt him pressed against you.

Kissing along his jaw, Jake carried you with ease to your room, plopping you down on your flimsy full size mattress before climbing on top. One of his knees pushed your legs open, the other encased your side, and he was back to kissing you with nothing but hunger.

Neither of you could get a bearing, grasping at each other for anything you could get your hands on. Your fingers tugged on his hair, ghosted over his back and chest, even grabbed his ass when he grunted at. Jake, on the other hand, was feverishly putting his hands under your shirt, cupping your breasts over your bra before mumbling between your lips.

“Thought about feeling your tits for so long,” he muttered against you and you nearly whined. “Let me see you , baby.”

He expertly was able to slip a hand behind your back, undoing the hook of your bra with ease. Now completely loosened, Jake lifted off the shirt he just made you put on (his shirt goddamn it) and your bra followed. Exposed to the chilled air, Jake’s gaze was hungry, soaking in the sight of you. His fingers grazed the side of one of your breasts.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he mumbled before leaning down to kiss your neck. His breath was hot, tingling you through your spine and you fought hard to not make a sound, really not wanting him to know how much he was affecting you. But this only seemed to stir him on, and he fully cupped your breast.

“Not gonna make a noise for me?” Jake muttered against your skin, rolling your nipple in between his fingers as he other hand went to your opposite breast. “I bet you sound so goddamn good.”

You wanted to fold badly, let him hear what was bubbling underneath. He nipped at your neck and your eyes fluttered shut, your breathing feeling like it was nonexistent. Everything about this was wrong, but he felt so so right.

Just as suddenly as you two started this, you both froze when the front door of the apartment opened, signaling your roommates return. Jake’s hands stopped, his lips froze, and it was like all sober cognitive reasoning flooded both of you.

Jake and you never spoke of that night.

But tonight was the first mention of it in years. Jake and you were in a standoff, staring at one another with lingering tension and unanswered desire.

“Much unhappiness has come into the world because of bewilderment and things left unsaid.” ― Fyodor Dostoevsky

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anti-romantico · 5 months

Text

[consequences] the boyz hyunjae

warnings: enemies to lovers, fake marriage, and they were roommates, oral (m & f receiving), protected sex, couch sex, riding, cursing, PLOT

words: 7467

A/N: WHAT THE HECK

— Can you wear a shirt in my presence? — You asked, annoyed.

— I also live here, sweetheart. So if you can walk around with short shorts and a tank top with no bra, I can walk around shirtless. — Hyunjae answered, using that nickname you were more than used to.

— Not, you don't live here, dude, your cousin was kind enough to let you live with us while you find a new place. This is temporal. — You raised your voice.

— Can you two shut the fuck up? God, I can't even start my day without you two arguing. — Chanhee got out of his room.

— When is he leaving? — You asked, fully ignoring Hyunjae's offended look.

— When he finds a new place.

— And is he even looking for one? It's been almost a month. Or is he going to give us his part of the rent?

— Can you stop talking about me as if I'm not just right here? — Hyunjae finally exploded.

— I'm not going to join your argument before having a coffee. Or at all. — Chanhee walked to his room and locked the door behind him.

— Just for your information, I am looking for a place, I'll go to see one today. Thank you for your concern. — Hyunjae grabbed his bowl of cereal and walked to the living room, his temporary room.

— You better do the dishes before or I'm changing the door lock. — You said before locking yourself in your room.

When you came back from work, neither Hyunjae or Chanhee were home yet. You found a note stuck on your door.

"I'll check another place and eat outside, don't miss me ;)"

Fucker. As if you cared.

You finally had a peaceful meal, until Hyunjae called you when you were washing the bowl and cup you used.

"What?" You answered aggressively.

"Baby, hi! Guess what? I found our perfect place!" You could hear the echo his voice made in the room he was in.

"The fuck are talking about, dude? Did you hit your head on your way there?" You joked, walking to your room.

"That's right, the one you told me. How about you come and see it, I know you're gonna love it."

That's when you get it. "They won't rent it if you're not married, aren't they? What a shame."

"Don't worry, we'll wait for you."

"What? I'm not going, dude, look for another place."

"Perfect, see you here. Love you."

You stared at your phone for a few seconds until Hyunjae sent you the address of this apartment. "I'll do whatever you want for the rest of my life, please come"

You debated yourself if you should really go or not.

The sooner he gets a place, the fastest he leaves yours. Fair enough.

You changed clothes and grabbed Hyunjae's denim jacket before leaving.

You sent him a message once you got out of the taxi you called. Not even a minute later, he was walking out the building.

— He's looking at the window, so don't push me. — Hyunjae said before holding your head and kissing you slowly.

You followed the kiss. — You'll never hear the end of this. — You kissed him again and grabbed his hand, letting him guide you to his new apartment.

— We've been married for 3 months, together for a year. We don't have children and we don't want to. — Hyunjae said while you were waiting for the elevator. — Another thing. — You looked at him tired. — You have to live with me for a while. Then I can tell him we broke up so he doesn't kick me out.

Your two got in the elevator, glad it was empty. — You should've told me that.

— I'm sorry, I panicked. — You arrived at his floor and held hands again.

Hyunjae opened the door for you. Let the show begin

— You must be [Y/N]. I'm Mr. Jeong. — A middle-aged man said once you two got in. — Hyunjae told me you chose this apartment.

— I did, yes. I really like the zone, my mom lives close by. — Hyunjae smiled. You followed his lie unconsciously.

— Hyunjae told me that. That's so sweet of him to live close to your mom.

— He's the best. — You said, but Hyunjae's eyes told you you sounded too fake.

— So how about you show your beautiful wife the place while I go for the papers to my apartment. — Mr. Jeong said. You two panicked.

— Oh, you live in the building too? — You asked, squeezing Hyunjae's hand.

— That's right, on the second floor. — Well, that wasn't that bad. Hyunjae's apartment was on the 8th floor.

Mr. Jeong left, and you two waited a minute to finally argue.

— What is so cool about this apartment that you needed me to pretend to be your wife? — You asked him, following him to a small bathroom. You watched him close the door and layed on it. — I doubt it's the price, this zone it's really expensive.

— The whole place.

— It's too big for one person. — You crossed your arms.

— Juyeon and Kevin also need a place, they still don't know I found it though.

— So what now? How long do you need me here?

— I'm still not sure, but in the meantime, I need you to let them live with Chanhee.

— No.

— Please, then you can go back.

— Ok, fine they can stay there. — Hyunjae nodded. — But what if Mr. Jeong does kick you out once we "broke up". — Hyunjae stayed silent. — That better not be part of the contract we're about to sign.

And it wasn't fortunately. Mr. Jeong left the place, staring at you two with a nostalgic smile.

— I'll pay for everything. The rent, the bills, the moving. — Hyunjae said, joining you at the window.

— Yeah, you better. — You looked at him. — Did you eat?

— Barely, but I'm not hungry.

— Well, we have to go back to my apartment for our stuff and to tell Chanhee about this. You can have your last meal there.

Telling Chanhee was harder than you thought. He immediately refused, telling Hyunjae to find another girl.

— Mr. Jeong already met me, Chan, and I also signed the contract. There's no turn back now.

— If you do something to her, I'll stop talking to you, I swear Hyunjae, I don't care if we're family.

— Chanhee. — You called him, taken aback by his reaction.

— I won't, I swear, she'll be back here in 6 months. — You wanted to protest, but the time sounded just right.

Packing was fast. You were terrified of unpacking.

You walked to the room besides the main one. But Hyunjae stopped you.

— I'm not sharing a bed with you, dude. Also, it's not like he's going to check if we sleep in the same bed.

— He's our landlord, he needs to come and check if everything's alright. — You scoffed. — I got a new bed, a bigger one, we'll be far away from the other.

— If you hug me just once, I'm moving my stuff to that room, you get it? — You pointed at the door you initially were aiming at. Hyunjae nodded.

Luckily, the room had enough space for both, you'd say it was too much for you. You didn't even use all the hangers.

— Are you going to use them? — Hyunjae asked. Of course he needed extra hangers. He didn't like to fold his hoodies.

— All yours. — Hyunake took them and walked to his side of the room. — Why did you mention the kids? Did he ask?

— Yeah, when I told him we recently got married, he asked if we were planning on having kids.

— And you don't want them? — Hyunake turned around with a confused look. — With someone else. — You laughed.

— Ah. Well, yeah I do, actually. But I'll have to wait, I can't afford them right now. — He finished hanging his hoodies and stretched his arms.

— You seriously thought I'd let you pay for everything? — You walked to him.

— I mean, I was expecting you to pay at least for a few things. I've known you long enough to know that you don't like being a burden.

— Then it's set. 50-50? — You reached out your hand to shake it with his.

But there was one thing none of you thought about. The arguments. Just by the next day, you two went back to your usual dynamic.

— I told you to not hug me! — You said, pushing him.

— God, you're not even fully awake and you're already yelling. — Hyunjae turned his body and ignored your disgusted look.

You got up and grabbed the clothes you were going to wear. It was Saturday so at least you didn't have to work. Hyunjae, on the other hand, had to.

— Don't take too long, I need to take a shower. — You looked at him before getting in the bathroom. Once you got out. You found him in just his boxers, waiting for you to come out.

— Are you fucking serious? — You asked, stopping your tracks at the door.

— Well, this is my place, I can walk around however I want. — Hyunjae took his towel and moved you. You felt shivers when he slammed the door.

You were brushing your hair when he got out of the bathroom, with just his towel around his waist. There was no point in protesting anymore.

— I need to go to the supermarket later, do you need anything? — He said, taking his sweet time in choosing a shirt.

— No, thanks. — You said before leaving the room.

You set the coffee maker and grabbed two cups from a box and then went back to the room, begging for Hyunjae to be fully dressed by now.

— Do you want coffee? — He was, kind of. His shirt was still open.

— Yes, thank you. — He noticed you froze. — You just saw me with just my boxers on, what is that reaction?

— Don't know what you're talking about. — You were about to leave, but turned around. — I'll start using the other room's bathroom from now on.

Hyunjae walked to you. — I've never seen you like this, babe. Seriously, what's wrong? Did you have a wet dream about me like this?

— You wish. And I'm not telling you how to dress in your place, but let me remind you you were the one that asked me to help you. I don't mind packing everything again. — You tried your best to keep your eyes on his.

Hyunjae stayed silent, making you smirk. You left the room and got into the microwave the leftovers you two left last night.

It was almost 7pm when Hyunjae arrived, finding you finishing putting away all the plates and cups in the cabinets.

— Did you leave something for me? — Hyunjae looked around.

— The TV's. I'm afraid I'll break them. — You said, sitting on a chair. — Did you go to the supermarket?

— I didn't have time. Juyeon and Kevin needed help with the moving.

— So you help them, but not me? — You asked, laughing at his guilty face. — I'm kidding.

— Babe... — Your eyes snapped at the nickname. He only called you like that as a joke, and his tone wasn't didn't sound like it. He cleared his throat to ease the tension he created. — I bought this, by the way. — He took out two rings. — I don't know if Mr. Jeong noticed we didn't have rings on, but just in case.

Hyunjae was about to grab your hand, but you snatched the ring of his fingers, scaring him.

— Fuck... we don't have pictures of our wedding to decorate. — You said after putting on the ring.

— Juyeon will help with it, but we do need to take more pictures together. Just having pictures of our wedding will look suspicious.

— So that means we have to go on dates?

— Just for the pictures.

— Right.

Another silence dominated the room.

— Do you want to go for dinner? — Hyunjae asked, taking off his back tie.

— Uh, sure. Let me change.

— You look good like that, though.

You bit your lip. You wanted to giggle so bad. — I'm only changing my shirt and grabbing some jacket.

— Right.

You two got into your room and went to your sides of it. Hyunjae was looking at himself in his full body mirror when he saw you taking off your shirt, leaving you in just your bra and jeans.

— Uh... — You turned around, acting innocent.

— So you can walk around with just your boxers, but I can't change my shirt in front of you? Seems unfair. — It was your turn to take your sweet time finding a shirt.

Hyunjae took a deep breath and shamelessly stared at your body through the mirror.

Once you were ready, you turned around, finding him taking a picture of you.

— Not weird at all. — You said, walking to him to see the photo in his phone.

— I mean, you're my wife. — Hyunjae grabbed your hand and showed you the ring you had on.

— Right, just don't take pictures of me sleeping.

In the elevator, you tried to avoid his eyes. Suddenly, the elevator stopped in the second floor, opening its doors to show you Mr. Jeong and you guessed it was his wife.

You got close to Hyunjae and felt his arm around your waist.

— Oh, how lovely that we found you. — Mr. Jeong said. — This is the couple I told you about.

— You both look amazing. — Ms. Jeong said.

— Thank you. — Hyunjae said in unison.

— Going somewhere special? — Mr. Jeong answered.

— Just to find something to eat. — You answered.

— Oh, if it's nothing special then join us, we're going to this cafeteria my wife loves.

You were about to answer, but Hyunjae beat you. — Sounds good, [Y/N] love visiting new cafeterias.

It wasn't a lie. You looked up to him. He gave you a kiss on the cheek and left his lips there.

Once all of you arrive to the parking lot, you walked to Hyunjae's car, Mr. Jeong's wasn't far. He told you to wait for them.

At the cafeteria, you ordered a latte and some pastry. Hyunjae just ordered an americano.

You two were waiting for Mr. and Ms. Jeong ordered at the bar.

— Why did you accept? — You asked, letting Hyunjae put his arm around you, pulling you close.

— To fully convince him we're a couple. So we don't have to kiss in front of him that often.

— Look at them. They're truly in love and you don't see them kissing every three words. — Hyunjae nodded, agreeing with you. — I didn't know I was a bad kisser.

Hyunjae looked at you scared. — You're not, god, I'm sorry if I imply that.

You laughed. — Jae, relax, I'm joking.

— You're enjoying a little too much scaring me, you know?

— I don't think so. — Hyunjae brushed his thumb on your chin before giving you a small kiss.

— Sorry for taking too long. They had this new drink I wanted to try. — Ms. Jeong apologized.

The talk was surrounded at your oh so lovely perfect wedding. And it was more a conversation between Ms. Jeong and you.

— If you don't mind, Hyunjae, would you make me some company while I smoke? — Mr. Jeong asked. Hyunjae excused himself and went with him.

The night was chill. The cafeteria had a special place for smokers.

— I'm going to be honest with you, Hyunjae. I thought you two were pretending. You wouldn't be the first couple that lied to me. — Hyunjae panicked at Mr. Jeong's words. — But just the way she's talking about the wedding, and how you look at her. It reminds me of me and my wife.

Hyunjae was speechless. — Any advice?

— I think you two are fine. There's no such a thing as the "perfect couple". But I do find it hard to believe you don't want kids.

— I mean, not now, we're still trying to settle ourselves in a new place.

— I really hope I can meet them.

Back in your apartment, Hyunjae and you changed clothes quietly.

— I'm going to the convenience store in the morning to get breakfast, is there anything you want? — Hyunjae asked, opening the blanket.

— I'm going with you. — He nodded.

The next morning, after having breakfast, you two changed clothes again and went to the supermarket, making the list on your way there.

— You already paid for the dinner and breakfast, Hyunjae, stop fighting. — You said, giving the cashier your card.

— Then the next trip to the supermarket is on me. — Hyunjae kissed your cheek, making you giggle.

On your way back, you received a message from Chanhee, asking where you were. The three of them were outside your building.

— Why are you here? — You got out of the car and walked with your friends inside the building while Hyunjae parked the car.

— We brought you welcome gifts! — Kevin said, turning his back a little for you to see his well packed backpack.

You chuckled. — That's sweet of you, Kev, but I'll be here just for 6 months.

The four of you waited for Hyunjae to join you outside the elevator. Once he did, y'all went to his apartment.

Fake plants, fake wedding pictures, food. At least the latter wasn't fake.

— How's married life going? — Juyeon asked, sipping on his can of beer.

— I thought you'd be back to the apartment by the next day, if I'm honest. — Chanhee said, not hiding the fact that he missed you.

— If you think arguments are over, don't be dumb, of course we argue. — You answered.

— Just not that often.

Everyone, including you, didn't expect Hyunjae to give that extra information.

After a month of living together, the two had figured out how to not argue over small things like the clothes all over the place, the expired food in the fridge or him constantly using your soap.

— I was thinking... — He seemed nervous. — We haven't had a movie night since we started living together. Or since we met.

— Of course we had them. — You chuckled and tried to push the shopping cart.

— Chan was there.

— And that makes them not being movie nights?

Hyunjae got close to you and caged your body between his body and the shopping cart. — I'd just like to have a movie night with my wife.

— What got into you? — But he didn't answer, his lips were over yours, slowly kissing you.

When he parted from you, you noticed Mrs. Jeong rounding the corner with her shopping cart.

— What happened with the "I don't want to kiss you every time we see them"? — You asked, faking a deep voice, hiding your disappointment that he only kissed you for that.

— I never said that. — Hyunjae walked away with the shopping cart, not letting you answer, again.

— Yes, you did. — You saw in a whisper, walking in his direction.

And by the months passing, you got used to his touchy and clingy side in front of your landlord. Behind closed doors, Hyunjae would keep his distance, and there were times you thought he wanted you to go to sleep mad at him.

He ate your breakfast even when you told him it was yours, you found your underwear at the bottom of the laundry machine after three days, of course they smelt horrible, sometimes he would ignore you or what you told him, like the time he slept with just a pair of boxers, saying it was too hot for him to wear pajamas.

You end up sleeping in the room you initially planned to, but this time he didn't protest.

By the end of the fourth month, the same dynamic you two had at Chanhee's place was back.

You were walking out the building on a Saturday morning, you were finally free of Hyunjae's annoying ass. Even though you didn't have a plan, you just wanted to be out of that apartment.

— Good morning, [Y/N]! — You heard Mrs. Jeong said in her usual energetic tone.

— Oh, good morning. — You said, waiting for her.

— Hyunjae's working? — Just the mention of his name made you have a headache.

— Yeah, he's... working.

— Is everything ok? — Of course she noticed your disgusted tone.

And you remembered, the 6 months were almost over, the plan was to pretend to break up so he could keep the apartment. Well, let the show begin.

— No, but I'm sure it'll be.

— Are you going anywhere?

— Not really, I just wanted fresh air.

— How about you and I go for a fresh juice and talk in the park? Does that sound good?

Her tone reminded you of your mother. — That sounds like a good plan.

You spent 5 minutes making up a whole story of how you and Hyunjae were falling out of love while sipping on your juice.

— What you're telling me, [Y/N], it's making me feel really bad. You two really seem to want a future together. — Mrs. Jeong said.

— And if you'd asked me 3 months ago, I'd told you I also wanted a life with him, but I guess we needed more time. My best friend even said it was too soon for a wedding. I should've listened to her.

— You can still work it out, sweetheart, you two have a really special connection. I'm sure if you sit down and talk, problems will be solved.

Hyunjae was back in the building at 8pm. He made sure his car was locked when he saw Mr. Jeong.

— How nice to see you, Jae. — Mr. Jeong said, giving Hyunaje an affectionate pat on the back.

— Likewise. How's your day going?

— Pretty calm. By the way, my wife and yours spent the morning together.

Hyunjae pressed his lips forming a fine line and nodded.

— It seems it's true by your reaction. — Hyunjae stopped walking, making Mr. Jeong to also stop. — She didn't tell me much, but she said you're having problems.

— Not all couples have problems?

— They do, yes, but they don't seem to be small problems, Jae. And I know we like to always be right, but it doesn't hurt to hear what they have to say.

Hyunjae practically ran to his apartment once he said goodbye to Mr. Jeong. He opened the door and found you watching a movie in the living room.

— May I know why you are venting our problems with our landlords?

You paused the movie. — Hello to you too, babe, are you hungry? Dinner is almost ready.

— Answer me.

You got up and didn't care that he was taller than you. — I told her that we both were falling out of love. That's all.

— And why is Mr. Jeong telling me to listen to you? — He kept his angry tone.

— How long have we been living together? — Hyunaje didn't answer. — And how long did we say we would live together?

Asshole.

— I'm just starting to make them believe we have unsolving differences and a divorce is expected. Wasn't that your plan?

— It's been only four months, [Y/N], you could've waited a little longer.

— Oh yeah, so we can tell them out of nowhere we're getting divorce the same day I'm leaving.

— Well, that could've been the plan if you weren't out there telling Mrs. Jeong our problems!

— Stop raising your voice at me, Hyunjae, or this conversation is over.

Hyunjae nodded and laughed in a sarcastic way. — You know what? You're a fucking genius! Tomorrow the first thing I'm doing is asking our landlord if he's going to kick me out if we get divorced, how about that?

— I don't know why you are reacting like this, this is your fault! You lied to Mr. Jeong, you told him I was your wife, and now I'm stuck with you for another 2 months!

— Don't pretend you didn't want this, babe, you had the option to not even show up that day. But there you were, sucking on my tongue when I kissed you.

You just couldn't believe your ears. — I wanted you out of my apartment, that's why I did it.

— You're so pretty when you get mad. — Hyunjae said after scanning your face.

He held your chin between his thumb and index, but you pushed him before he could kiss you. — Don't you fucking dare to touch me after how you just talked to me.

— Listen, I'm sorry for overreacting, but I don't enjoy it when others know about my shit. Even if this is a fake relationship, I'd like to have some privacy.

— Well, I'm sorry for telling her about that, but you've been acting like an asshole for months now, I just wanted this to be over.

This time, when Hyunjae hugged you, you didn't push him. You had your face buried in his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

— If I'm honest, I did all those things to get to you. And it worked, just not the way I expected. — Hyunjae laughed when you hit him in the stomach. — Let's have dinner and watch a movie.

Movie night was calm, you had blankets over you two. You noticed Hyunjae was falling asleep and felt bad. He worked the whole day and still wanted to watch a movie with you.

— Let's go to sleep. — You said, pausing the movie. It wasn't even halfway through.

— We'll finish it tomorrow. — You nodded and his sleepy voice.

When you were about to get in the room you were sleeping in, you felt Hyunjae's hand grabbing your wrist.

— I promise that attitude will disappear, please, come back to the room.

You just couldn't say no. — Let me grab my pajamas then.

— You can borrow a shirt of mine. —You laughed at his child-like attitude, pulling you to his room.

He gave you a shirt, too big for you, and turned around so you could change.

— Am I allowed to hug you? — You turned your head over the pillow to look at him. He was really close.

— Sure.

The next morning, you were still trapped between his arms, glad he wasn't squeezing you to death.

— Jae... — You softly said. You wanted to know the hour, but you left your phone in the living room.

— It's early, go back to sleep. — Hyunjae's mouth was on your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

— Can you read my mind? — You turned your body, Hyunjae keeping you close to him.

— I do, actually, you're thinking you just had the best wet dream of your life and I was in it.

You laughed, he was back... — You need to work on that skill, then, because that is highly inaccurate.

— Oh yeah? — You felt his finger on your left side, realizing the shirt lifted up while you were sleeping.

— Very inaccurate. — You said over his lips.

— I don't believe you. — His hand traveled to your leg and pulled in over his waist.

It was when you remembered you were only wearing panties and his shirt.

— May I know what got into you? — You asked, sighing when you felt his finger digging just below the skin of your butt.

— How am I supposed to control myself when my beautiful wife kept rubbing her ass over my cock the whole night? — His soft voice changed to a dark and deep one.

— I didn't do such a thing.

— I wasn't joking when I said you had a wet dream, though, you were moaning while doing it. It took everything on me to not fuck you while sleeping. Unless you're into that. — Hyunjae bucked his hips, finally letting you feel his boner over your clothed cunt. — That is your fault, so you better fix it.

He didn't have to tell you twice. One of your hands pulled his pajama pants and underwear down while you licked the other to jerk him.

He hissed at your warm touch, making him bite his lower lip and pulled you to kiss you.

— Fuck... I'm so sensitive, please don't stop, babe. — You were enjoying his reaction too much, tighting your grip around him from time to time to help him cum.

He wanted to warn you, but not a single word came out of his mouth. You felt his cum spilling out to your hand and couldn't help but see.

— Sorry, it felt really good. — Hyunjae removed the sweat from his forehead and ran to the bathroom, coming back with some papel to clean your hand and some drops that fell on the bed.

And you wanted to talk about it, but didn't know how. It was until dinner that he mentioned it.

— I... Sorry... Thank you for this morning...

— Are you thanking me for making you cum? — That was the first time.

— Yeah? I enjoyed it a lot.

— And why did you apologize?

Hyunjae avoided your eyes, he was clearly embarrassed. — I.. wanted to return the favor.

— And why are you suddenly shy? — You've never seen him like this.

— I guess it's just the flashbacks...

— Well, I think we have to make some rules if this is going to happen again, right?

— Rules? Why?

— Are you going to be able to live with me for another 2 months after having sex?

Hyunjae bit his lip, his idea of returning the favor wasn't having sex, but now that you mention it... — Right. So this is going to happen just once?

— That's why we need rules, Jae...

— Fine, I get it. Shoot.

You finished your drink and made a face. — This can happen multiple times as long as we both are single. Even after I leave. But the moment we start talking with someone else, this ends. — Hyunjae crossed his arms and nodded. — Let's keep this as a secret, Chanhee would kill you if he knows.

— I wasn't planning on telling him. It's clear he loves you more than he loves me. And I'm his family.

You laughed at the pout he made. And then you remembered... — I don't mind you touching me while I'm sleeping... — Hyunjae couldn't believe his ears. — But if you want to take it further, wake me up.

— Sure. — He didn't intend to sound so excited.

— I don't take the pill, so if you don't have condoms here...

— We should've talked about this in the morning so I could go to the supermarket and buy some.

You laughed again. — Are you going to return the favor then?

Hyunje smirked, standing up and taking your hand, pulling you to your shared room.

— Lay back and enjoy.

You laid down on the bed and with the help of your elbows, could see him taking off your jeans and panties.

He gave you a last look before sinking into you, groaning at your taste. You threw your head back and bit your lip to mute your moans.

But Hyunjae heard your whines increasing when he inserted two fingers while he was sucking in your clit.

You suddenly kept quiet, making Hyunaje look at you. — Did you just... cum?

— Maybe... — You answered, catching your breath. You stood up and pulled up your jeans, walking to the bathroom, leaving Hyunjae more than confused.

But you were embarrassed, you've never cummed that fast before, and you didn't want to admit you have wanted this to happen for a while now.

The next day, Hyunjae left to work before you did, making you wake up alone in your shared bed. And you didn't know if you liked it or not.

He left you breakfast ready and a note wishing you a good day. Another first time.

You found Mrs. Jeong again, giving the "good news" that Hyunjae and you solved your problems.

[To: Menace] 7:24pm

"Going to the supermarket, you want something?"

But he didn't answer. You bought some snacks, debating yourself if you should get the condoms.

You checked your phone once you were home and couldn't fight the disappointment when you noticed Hyunjae left you in read. But your head snapped when you heard a door closing.

— Hyunjae?

He walked from his room and almost ran to greet you. — I'm sorry for not answering, I was busy. But hey, I bought the condoms.

You laughed, finding him adorable.

On the weekend, Hyunjae planned a movie night, but it got interrupted by a very heated make out session. The movie working as background noise.

You were on top of him, humping his very hard boner. His hands were under your tank top, massaging your boobs over your bra.

He kissed your neck while one of his hands was looking for something inside the drawer beside the couch you two were.

You looked at him. — You shouldn't have told me this can happen multiple times. I left condoms all over the place. — He said, taking off your tank top and bra before sucking in your left tit.

— And what if the guys come and find one? — You brushed his hair with your fingers, enjoying his tongue playing with your nipple.

— I don't want to think about that right now, babe, I want you to keep moving your hips, please. — You loved the new nickname, it wasn't in a teasing way anymore.

Instead of moving your hips, you got off him and started to undress, Hyunjae doing the same and grabbing the condom.

But you took it away from his fingers and got on your knees. Hyunjae cursed under his breath and let you do your thing.

You pumped his dick before licking it up and down, and then you sucked on his balls. You proceeded to open the condom and rolled it down on his boner.

— Do I have to schedule a blowjob with my wife? — Hyunjae asked when you straddled him. He positioned his tip over your clit and rubbed it.

— I have to check if I'm not busy... — You said over his lips.

Hyunjae smirked and pulled you down, earning a very loud moan from you. Your nails digging on the skin of his shoulders. He kissed you again, giving you time to adjust. You sucked on his tongue and started to move your hips up and down. Hyunjae whined when you tightened around him, giving you a small spank.

It didn't take long before you were jumping on him, not kissing anymore. None of you were shy with your noises, not caring about the neighbors.

Hyunjae got one of your boobs and sucked it, pinching the nipple of the other. You knew your nails were leaving red marks on his neck and chest, but you didn't care.

— Why did it take us so long to do this? — You asked, throwing your head back when you felt your orgasm close.

— If you weren't such a tight ass, this would've been the hundredth time. — Hyunjae answered, making you laugh.

— If you weren't so fucking annoying... — You grabbed his neck for support and got close to his face. — we wouldn't have to pretend in the first place.

Hyunjae kissed you, pulled your hair, bit you, spanked you. He knew you were right.

Before him living in your and Chan's living room, your friendship wasn't as chaotic, you even admitted to some friends you found him attractive. Hyunjae also developed a crush on you, but living somehow together gave you the sign that you two wouldn't work out.

You felt him give you another spank, biting your lip and bouncing harder. Your legs were sore, but you needed your release more than anything. You grabbed Hyunjae's hand and directed it to your clit, him immediately understanding.

— You look so hot on top of me, babe. — Hyunjae said, hypnotized by the view. — I can get used to this.

"Me too" you thought, but you were so immersed in your pleasure, you only could kiss him, sucking on his tongue and scratching his nape.

Hyunjae hugged you by your waist and made you stop, growling. You felt his cock twitching repeatedly inside you.

After a few minutes, Hyunjae's fingers brushed your hair. You lifted your head and looked at him. He looked different. Or maybe it was your orgasm making you have these thoughts.

Hyunjae pulled you for a kiss, a sloppy and romantic one.

— Let's get cleaned up. — He said on your lips, but he kept kissing you.

— You have to let me go for that, babe.

It was the first time you called him that, and he showed you he loved it.

— I can always carry you to the shower. We can have round two there. — His low voice made you clench around him.

But you stood up, sighing by the sudden emptiness. — I think I have a free space to give my husband a blowjob just now. — You said, walking to your shared bedroom.

Once you two were in the bathroom, Hyunjae literally dragged you to the shower. Earning some giggles from you.

A week later, Chanhee, Juyeon and Kevin visited you again.

The whole time, Chan was awfully quiet and kept looking at the both of you, making you nervous. After an hour, Juyeon and Kevin went to the convenience store for snacks, but you noticed Chanhee told them something before they left.

Hyunjae was looking for bowls to serve some chips and you were cutting carrots, maybe using this as an excuse to not look at Chanhee.

— Since when?

Here we go.

— What? — Hyunjae stopped his tracks and looked at Chanhee.

— Since when you've been fucking?

The sudden question made you cut your finger with the knife. You threw the knife and licked your little cut.

— Are you ok? — Hyunjae practically ran to you.

— Oh, so it's serious.

— No!

— It's just sex.

Both answering at the same time made Chanhee laugh. — Right. And I guess you weren't planning on telling me.

— For what? — You asked, looking for some bandaid.

— I don't know, I'm your best friend. — And then he looked at Hyunjae. — And I'm your cousin, your family.

— Well, I'm sorry for not telling you, but it's been just a week. — Hyunjae said, helping you finish the carrots.

— Wait, what? A week? — You raised an eyebrow at his words. — You two act as if you've been dating since you started living together.

— Don't be ridiculous. — You said, not being able to look at Hyunjae.

Chanhee couldn't say anything, Juyeon and Kevin arrived and started talking about some new snacks they bought.

After they finally left, you took a bath in what were you planning to be your bathroom 5 months ago. The water was warm and you were glad you still had a lavender bath bomb.

You told Hyunjae you need to think about what Chanhee said and it was if you slept separately. And even though Hyunjae wanted to argue back, he also needed to think.

The next morning, when you got out of your room, Hyunjae was already waiting for you with an empty cup.

— Coffee or tea?

— I think I'm just having cereal. — Hyunjae nodded and put away the cup.

— We need to talk. — He said. Your back was facing him, you only hummed in response. — The fifth month it's almost over.

— I know.

— What does your lack of packing mean?

You were only looking at your empty bowl. — Do you want me to start packing?

You turned your body and looked at him, he was already behind you. — I just want to know so I can talk with Mr. Jeong.

— Are you going to tell him?

— What? That I lied about you being my beautiful wife? — He brushed his nose with yours. — I'll just make a deal with him. We would exchange places with the guys.

— And if he says no? — Your fingers clench on his pajama shirt.

— He already trusts us, I don't think he'd have a problem.

— But I like this place. — You slightly pout.

Hyunjae chuckled and gave you a peck. — Yeah, but we both know what three people living in a place that only two people fit is like.

You nodded, hugging Hyunjae by his waist.

— Tell you what. We keep the place, but while they find a bigger place, they can bring some of their stuff. Let me remind you we have a whole empty room.

— And what about us?

And if you were honest, you thought he would tense with the question, but he just hugged you tighter.

— Do you want to make it official?

You looked up, finding his eyes on you. — Official? You haven't asked me shit.

You tried to pull away, failing miserably.

— If you weren't such a tight ass and would let me speak. — You stayed silent. Not hiding your excitement. — Would you let me be your boyfriend?

— Ugh, you're so cheesy. — You said, pulling him by his collar. — But yes.

Hyunjae laughed and kissed you. But the romantic moment got interrupted by your stomach.

— Someone's hungry.

— If you'd have let me have my breakfast first.

While you were cooking, Hyunjae decided the best way to still ask Mr. Jeong.

Mrs. Jeong was the one that opened the door.

— Oh, Hyunjae, how nice of you to visit us.

— I'm sorry if this comes as rude, but is your husband here? I need to talk to him.

— Oh no, don't tell me [Y/N] and you have broken up? — The lady placed her hand over her mouth.

— No, it's not that, don't worry.

— Is everything ok? — Mr. Jeong appeared drying his hands with a towel. — Hyunjae, what can I do for you?

After Mrs. Jeong poured three glasses of water, the three of you sat down in the living room.

— I really don't know how to explain this so I'll just say it. I'm thinking about giving my apartment to some friends and finding a smaller place for [Y/N] and I.

Mr. Jeong nodded. — Are these friends trustworthy?

— They are. One of them is my cousin and my wife's best friend, actually. The thing is that the place they have is really small for three people.

— So you want to exchange places with them?

— Not really, that building isn't of [Y/N]'s liking.

— Well, that's nice to hear because there are also smaller apartments in this building. — Mrs. Jeong added, making her husband nod.

Hyunjae felt stupid. — I... I didn't know.

— I don't have a problem with your friends living in the building, but even if you say they're good, the rules will apply to them too. Even stricter ones if it's going to be all men.

— Right. — Hyunjae chuckled. — Then I'll talk to...

— She doesn't know? — Mr. Jeong interrupted.

— I just mentioned it this morning, she was worried you didn't want three men living under the same roof.

— I never had issues with groups of friends living together, I'm just stricter with them 'cause, well, I was also young.

Cold sweat ran through Hyunjae's back. — I thought you prefered couples living here?

— I said I'm used to them, this zone is famously known by families. You are the first couple I admit without children, though.

— Right...

Hyunjae went back to his apartment, feeling like the stupidest man on earth.

— Where were you? Food is ready. — You got out of the kitchen.

— Come here. — Hyunjae practically threw himself to the couch and waited for you to sit down beside him, but you sat down on the small table in front.

— Babe, you're pale...

— I talked with Mr. Jeong about the apartment. — And you were about to interrupt him, but he grabbed your hands. — Baby, I need you to listen to me and I'll understand if you don't want to talk to me ever again.

— You're scaring me. — He never called you "baby".

Hyunjae took a deep breath. — He told me he doesn't have a problem with our friends living here, in fact, he never had a problem with groups of friends in general. He just sets different rules

— And how did we end up in this situation? — Hyunjae felt you tense, he just cared your skin with his finger.

— Because him telling me only families lived here made me believe only families were allowed to live here.

You started to laugh, not in a sarcastic way, you were genuinely laughing at his dumbness.

— And what made you think I wouldn't talk to you anymore? — You said after finally being able to speak.

— I don't know. I guess I panicked.

You kissed him and straddled his legs. — And what will happens with us? — You said over his lips.

He gave you a chaste kiss before talking. — Mrs. Jeong mentioned there are smaller apartments, maybe we can check them out.

— But I like this apartment. — You said kissing his neck. His grip went from over your clothes to under it.

— Unless you want to have kids... this place is too big for us.

— That doesn't sound like a bad idea.

Hyunjae almost lost control over his own body at your words. — Not yet...

And this could have continued further, but both of your stomachs interrupted, making both of you laugh.

— Not yet. — You said over his lips and stood up, grabbing Hyunjae's hand and taking him to the kitchen.

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