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#considering she's been hiding lmao
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✨Dress Up✨
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IT IS DONE HOLY SHIT! Yeah, I had to change this fic 3 different times, I'm really sorry this one took so long. Hopefully you all like this one and thank you for your patience <3
Consider this a reward for kicking Vox's ass in this poll and declaring our short king the ACTUAL hottest character in Hazbin Hotel lmao
Lucifer x f!sinner reader
Summary: Lucifer takes you dress shopping for a special night out, but for some reason he's been acting a little strange lately...
Warnings: 18+, smut, public teasing, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v
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Lucifer excitedly told you that he wanted to take you dress shopping today. It wasn't out of the norm for you two to go out on the town and indulge on some sort of spending spree together. Plus Lucifer absolutely loved buying things for you; whether it be precious jewelry, beautiful flowers, or brand-new clothes. But you had to admit it's been a while since you've gone out, what with Lucifer spending a majority of time at the hotel assisting his daughter Charlie. You were so happy that they were able to rekindle their bond after so many years of being apart. You were more than happy to help with the hotel as well! You found ways to help Charlie with whatever she needed, which somehow ended up being more than you initially thought. It was exhausting to say the least, but you enjoyed it nonetheless! You were very much looking forward to going out today with your beloved king. And of course he was taking you to one of the most esteemed shops in all of Hell, Vivacious by Velvette. He truly spared no expense when it came to you.
But for some reason, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was…off about Lucifer today.
He didn't seem upset or angry or anything of the sort. More like, he was scared? Or perhaps nervous about something? You couldn't think of anything that could be making him feel this way. The hotel was doing great, Charlie and Lucifer’s relationship was better than it’s ever been, and you and Lucifer have been nothing but enamored with each other. You were just clothes shopping after all. You two had been dating for some time now; you remembered how Lucifer used to be all kinds of flustered during your first few outings. You thought it was adorable the way he stumbled over his words when he brought up the newest duck he had added to his collection or when he complimented every single outfit you’ve ever worn. He still did those things, of course, but he slowly became more and more comfortable and confident around you. But today was something you’ve never seen before. The wary smiles he’s been giving throughout day, the jitteriness of his movements anytime you approached him, his rapid speech patterns…was he hiding something from you? You intended to get to the bottom of it.
You walked down the streets of Hell with Lucifer by your side, his arm linked with yours. You stepped into the lavish shop, dresses of all kids hung from the racks: ball gowns, sun dresses, cocktail dresses; anything you could think of was there! Lucifer told you to take your time and to pick out as many as you wanted to try on while he waited for you by the dressing room. Despite the plethora of options at your fingertips, you only found yourself intrigued by a handful of dresses. Some with more material than others but you'd thought you'd give them a try regardless; you weren't shy when it came to your body.
You grabbed the three dresses that appealed to you the most and made your way towards the changing rooms. Just as he promised, you saw Lucifer standing at the end of the hall waiting for you. But he didn't seem to notice you at first, his attention was elsewhere. Next to the changing rooms was the most impressive collection of wedding dresses you'd ever seen in Hell and even on Earth, each more breathtaking than the last. You noticed Lucifer staring at the wall of dresses with an almost wishful expression, reaching out to touch one of the dresses' lacy sleeve, gently massaging it between his fingers. You smiled and quietly walked over to join him.
"They're really beautiful, aren't they?," you said, snapping him out of his trance and making him jump a bit. He smiled at you, his hand still holding onto the sleeve.
"Absolutely stunning," he beamed. Although, with the way he was looking at you, it didn't seem like he was referring to the dresses. You felt a small blush creep across your cheeks.
One of the employees walked up to you and directed you to an empty changing room. Lucifer waited outside patiently, smiling at you as you closed the sort behind you. The first dress you wanted to try on was a simple black sheath dress. Once you slipped it on, you reached behind of and attempted to grab the zipper. You can only manage to pull it up so far before it wouldn’t budge anymore, causing you to huff in frustration. Slowly, you opened the door to see Lucifer’s eager face staring back at you.
“I need your help, hon,” you admitted. “I can’t reach the zipper.”
Quickly, Lucifer stood up and followed you into the changing room. You turned your back to him and lifted your hair up and out of the way so the zipper couldn’t catch it. Lucifer placed one hand on your hip and the other on the back of your dress. You heard the zipper moving, but it only took you a second to realize it was moving in the wrong direction. Cheeky bastard, you thought to yourself.
“Up, Lucifer,” you said with a smirk, glancing at him over your shoulder. You heard a light chuckle escape him.
“Sorry, darling,” he apologized almost insincerely, peppering kisses down your neck, “can’t help myself when it comes to you.” Lethargically, he pulled the zipper up to the top, finally letting your hair fall back down. If he wanted to play games, you were more than happy to participate. Because you knew how to win. And just maybe, you could get him to admit to whatever he was keeping from you.
“I wouldn’t start something that you’re not ready to finish, sweet pea,” you threatened with a smug grin.
Before Lucifer could get a word out, you spun around and pushed him gently against the wall, eliciting a small yelp from him. You placed both of your arms on either side of his head, effectively trapping him. His eyes widened, sucking in a breath as he realized how vulnerable he was in this new position he had found himself in. His head and hands became flat against the wall as he looked into your now ravenous eyes.
“My love, p-please,” he began to stammer, “I-I didn’t want to-HNG,” you effectively cut off his meek pleas as your one hand traveled down below his belt. You maneuvered your hand up and down at an agonizingly slow pace. Nonetheless, you felt him start to harden underneath his pants almost instantly. You flashed a devious smile, but he didn���t see it, as he had screwed his eyes shut. Baring his clenched teeth, he tried desperately to hold his breath as to not make any lewd noises. You took that as a challenge, of course.
“So it’s only alright if you get to tease me, is that it, Luci?,” you questioned, leaning your head forward with your lips now pressed against his ear. “Now that doesn’t seem fair at all, does it?”
Lucifer gulped as you continued your teasing ministrations. “I’m s-sorry, sweetheart,” he looked at you doe-eyed. “P-Please don’t-mmph…don’t do this, not here. I won’t be able to hold back, not today…”
“Oh, I’m counting on that,” you retorted. “You know you’ve been acting out of sorts all day, don’t think I haven’t noticed. Maybe if you tell me what’s wrong, I’ll show you some mercy.”
Lucifer audibly gulped at your words. "It's…it's nothing, angel, I promise, I just-fuck," you pressed your hand in harder against the growing tent in his pants, silencing his response.
"You hesitated just now," you told him. "If that's how you want it to be, so be it. You don't have to tell me. But you're not off the hook, not by a longshot." You pulled away from him, giving him a chance to breathe normally once again. You gave a quick glance to the mirror to finally get a look at the dress you had adorned. It looked nice! But it came off as something you would wear in an office setting; not really your style. You looked back at Lucifer who was instantly frozen in place from your gaze.
"I'm not feeling this one," you remarked, "help me with the zipper?" You turned your back to him once more, feeling his hand tentatively grab the zipper. "You can only touch the dress, understand? I'm off limits."
"M-mhmm," Lucifer agreed. He behaved and only tugged the zipper down halfway until you could reach it yourself.
"Good boy."
You discarded the dress quickly, leaving you in only your lacy black bra and matching black panties. Lucifer forced himself to look away from you, trying to reach for the door handle.
"And where do you think you're going?," you asked coyly, stopping him in his tracks entirely.
“I umm, just uhh…giving you privacy?” He tentatively went for the handle again, but your arm shot out, keeping the door in its locked state.
“Oh, we’re way past decency here, Lucifer.” You maneuvered him away from the door and sat him down on the large white bench that was affixed to the wall. You leveraged your foot against the area just below his hip and rested one hand on the top of your thigh, the other on your hip. “Besides, you’re not really in any condition to be in the public view” leaning forward and shooting a quick glance down at his crotch, “now are you?”
Lucifer could only shake his head.
"Glad you agree," you smiled and pecked his lips, a pathetic little whine leaving Lucifer's throat. "I have a few more dresses to try on. You can look, but you cannot touch unless I say, alright?"
"Yes, love," he murmured obediently. You smiled and turned around to pick up the black dress you had let fall to the floor. You bent over slowly to pick it up, giving Lucifer a lovely view of your barely covered ass. You heard a deep inhale behind you followed by a shaky exhale.
You hung up the black dress and moved onto the next dress; a beautiful lavender colored Bardot dress with sleeves that hung off your shoulders. Luckily this one didn't have a zipper, you only needed to step in and shimmy it up your body. You adjusted your bra straps and hid them under the sleeves for the time being. You liked this one more than the last, you did as few twirls in front of the mirror checking every single angle.
"What do you think of this one, hon?," you asked, looking at his reflection in the mirror. It seemed as though he was gripping that bench with just a little too much force.
"Ravishing," Lucifer breathed. You had given him permission to look, and he was taking fully advantage of your generosity. He was chopping at the bit, fighting every urge to pounce right then and there. Lucifer's eyes were hungry, his lips curled into a smile to try and hide how badly he needed you at this moment. You admired his will power…but how strong was it truly? You made your way back towards him, chuckling playfully. Without warning, your knees found their way onto the bench, now fully straddling the mess of a man beneath you.
"W-what are you-mmph!" Lucifer tried to ask you but was cut short by your lips suddenly on his. You wrapped your arms around his neck and placed a small peck to his forehead.
"You always say just the right things, Luci," you cooed as you began to shift your hips against him. Hearing the mangled moans coming from Lucifer was nothing short of euphoric. You noticed he had released his grasp on the bench and began to move towards your hips. You gripped the back of his head, his hair firmly between your fingers, and tilted his head back gently. Lucifer grunted softly as you brought your lips to his neck. "Ah, ah, ah, what did I say, love? No touching," you scolded, now sucking and nibbling at his tender skin, desperately needing to mark him.
Lucifer whimpered and reluctantly brought his hands back to their original position on the frigid bench that paled in comparison to the feeling of your warm body that was pressed against him. "I-I can't do this f-for much longer, darling," he whimpered, "I can only h-handle- hnng, so much, I…ssshhhhhhiiittt-" Lucifer's hot breath became increasingly labored as you continued to rock your hips against his painfully growing bulge.
Just then, you heard the sound of a door closing. Someone had just entered the room next to you. With the threat of being heard now looming, you lifted yourself from his neck to see that Lucifer's eyes had turned an ominous red. It felt as if his slit black irises were staring straight into your soul, attempting to burn you from within. He was losing control fast. But you weren't done with him just yet. With a smirk, you placed a finger over his soft lips. "Shh," you whispered almost inaudibly, "you may want to keep your voice down from now on."
A low guttural growl erupted from Lucifer, not of anger, but of pure lust. His obedience hanging by the thinnest of threads as you removed yourself from his lap and stripped yourself of the purple dress. At this point, you couldn’t really care less about the dresses. This was much more entertaining.
The last dress you had grabbed was a form fitting strapless dress decorated entirely in ruby colored sequence with a long slit up the side. You held it against your body in the mirror, but something didn't look quiet right. But then in donned on you, and a devious thought had crossed your mind. You made your way over to Lucifer once more, noticing his claws were now digging into his thighs.
"Can you hold this for just a moment, dear?," you asked innocently. He looked up at you with his still crimson eyes, outstretching his hand silently. Once he was holding the garment, you reached around the back of your bra and unclasped it, letting it hit the floor with a soft thud. Lucifer's eyes became saucers, bunching up the dress in his hand with a clenched fist. Your soft and tender breasts were mere inches from his touch and yet he found he could only sit there motionless, writhing under each new temptation you threw at him.
"You…you are…" Lucifer began, finding it agonizingly difficult to steady his breathing.
You smiled and tugged the dress back from Lucifer's powerful grip. "The dress wouldn't look right with the bra on, silly! I should have brought one of my strapless ones, but oh well, live and learn!" You giggled to yourself and turned away from the fallen angel who's resolve was deteriorating with each passing moment. And with that final move, you had definitely won the game.
Or did you?
While you were mentally congratulating yourself on your perceived victory, you hadn't noticed that Lucifer had moved from his seated position, picking up every article of your clothing that you used to torment him. All you felt next was something wrap around your waist tightly. Was that…his tail?
"What the-AHH!," you tried to question, only to be pulled backwards through a portal that had been summoned, dropping the red dress in the process. The pale white dressing room vanished from sight and you were left standing in the middle of your bedroom. “Lucifer, why did you-" but you couldn’t finish your question. When you turned around, your lover was on his knees behind you, his demonic horns now on full display. He lifted his head, his eyes brimming with tears that threatened to fall at any moment. "Oh, Luci…"
"Please forgive me, I-I'm so sorry, my angel," he cried, "I know I've been acting strange all day and I know that you know I've been keeping something from you. I swear on my immortal life that I will tell you, but I'm begging you…" you kneeled down with him, cupping his face with your hand, "no more teasing. P-please…I-I need you…"
You gave him a loving smile and brought your lips to his. He melted from your touch, grabbing at your hand that held his cheek. "You know I love you, Lucifer," you breathed as you pulled away, "I'm sorry if I took things too far back there, I never want to upset you. You don't have to tell me anything if you're not ready to do so. I can wait. But first…" You stood from your kneeling position and offered him a hand up. The way his demonic form had taken over from just your teasing had you desperate for him beyond belief. Not that your previous bouts of teasing him hadn't worked you up already. You needed him too. Now.
You laid flat on you back against the soft sheets, beckoning him closer with a curl of your finger. Lucifer finally flashed you a toothy grin and in an instant, snapped his fingers, completely removing all of his clothing. Normally he liked to make a show of his undress, but you were both too far gone to care at this point. His tail swished behind him as he excitedly climbed up to join you in bed. He stared down at your crotch, licking his forked tongue across his lips. Without hesitation, he removed your panties and spread your legs apart, taking in the sight of your completely drenched pussy. He leaned down quickly and began to leave sloppy kisses and nips along your inner thighs before stopping right at your entrance.
You chuckled lightly at his eagerness to please you. "Luci, you know you don't have to do this. Especially not after what I put you through today."
Lucifer, in response, let two of his fingers slide against your folds, earning a hardy moan from you. "Trust me when I say this, darling," his voice was low, dripping with lust, "I will never deny either of us this pleasure." You felt his steamy breath against your womanhood as he looked up at you with half-lidded eyes, sending a shiver down your spine. "You may want to hold on, sweetheart."
Without another word, Lucifer ran his snake-like tongue against your cunt like a starved man. You arched your back in pure ecstasy, unable to focus on anything other than the way he was making you feel. He hooked his arms underneath your legs and brought you as close to his face as physically possible, digging his claws into your soft thighs and wrapping his tail around your calf. You realized what he had meant with his last statement and reached out to grip his devilish horns. Your grasp forced a moan out of him as he worked his tongue on your sensitive nub, circling it relentlessly. You knew how skilled he was with his mouth, but it never failed to awe you every time he used it. It wasn't long before you felt a different sensation, that of two clawed finger thrusting into you at a rapid pace.
"Lu-Lucifer, fuck, f-feels so good," you whimpered in between your heavy breaths, "right-SHIT… right there, d-don't stop, please don't stop!" Your pleas only fueled Lucifer’s hunger for you and his desire to make you come undone around him. His tongue and fingers worked in tandem, bringing you closer and closer to your release. Your knuckles were turning white with the amount of force you were using to hold onto his horns. You let one hand drop to tug at Lucifer's hair, another broken moan escaping him as you did. His fingers curled up into you, hitting your g spot repeatedly as his lips sucked on your clit with reckless abandon. That coil in your stomach was on the verge of snapping. "S-so close…gonna c-cum, fuckfuckFUCK LUCIFER!," was the last thing you could utter before your walls clenched around his fingers, feeling yourself pulsate with waves of pleasure. Lucifer helped you ride out your orgasm while lapping up every drop that escaped your body as if it was the nectar of the gods. Once your body finally relaxed, Lucifer removed himself from your thighs, your mess glistening off his chin. He flashed you a wicked grin before using his tongue to clean up the remains of your essence from his face.
The King of Hell crawled up the length of your body until he was hovered directly above you. "I can truly never have enough of you, my queen," he praised. Through your lustful haze, your barely rational mind latched onto what he'd just said. Queen?, you thought, he's never called me that before. Not that you minded in the slightest, you loved it, in fact. Regardless, you clearly weren't in any condition to question his choice of words. Not when you were desperate for his cock to be buried inside you already.
Lucifer caught your lips, his tongue begging for entrance, to which you happily obliged. You could still taste a faint amount of yourself on his lips as your tongues met in a fiery display of passion, twisting and fighting against each other as if trying to establish dominance of the other. You pulled his head closer as he devoured you, saliva dripping down the side of your mouth as his tongue explored every inch of your mouth. His tail refused to recoil as it kept its grip on your lower leg. His hard on pressed against your thigh and you were becoming increasingly impatient. You whimpering against him and bucked your hips up, essentially begging for him to take you completely.
“Please…” was the only word you could force out once you pulled away from his lips. Lucifer smiled, pressing his lips against your ear just as you had done to him earlier.
“Your heart’s desire is my command,” he cooed as you finally felt that familiar pressure between your thighs that you so desperately craved. You felt the head of his cock finally press into your sopping wet cunt, slowing inching himself into you he bottomed out inside of you. You moaned together, now feeling completely whole. Together as one again. Out of nowhere, Lucifer’s wings sprang out behind him once he was fully sheathed inside of you, adding a bright angelic glow to his otherwise hellish appearance.
He was beautiful.
He laughed awkwardly, a hard blush spreading across his face. You reached up and captured his lips once more. He hummed into you, folding his wings around you, completely blocking the outside world. In that perfect moment, the only thing that existed was you and him. After what felt like an eternity, Lucifer finally began to shift his hips, pulling himself out only to thrust right back into you. Slowly at first, relishing every single mewl and whimper you let escape your throat as he rutted into you. But it wasn’t long until his pace quickened, the sound of your slapping skin driving him to the brink. He rested his forehead against yours, refusing to look away from your loving gaze. You felt that coil in your stomach begin to clench once more, making it near impossible to form any coherent sentence, the pleasure his cock was providing was overwhelming you in the best way possible. He noticed this and brough his hand between you two and started circling your already overstimulated clit. You were not going to last much longer. And you could tell his composure was falling apart at the seams as well.
"Hng…fuck…me," Lucifer stammered, his breath hitching on every word "close…I'm close, g-gonna…c-ffffuuucckkk!" He resorted to latching his sharp teeth onto your shoulder, causing small patches of blood to flow out as he came, his hot seed painting your walls white. His wings twitched and spasmed when he finished inside you. His orgasm coupled with his hard thrusts and torturing of your sensitive nub pushed you over the edge for a second time, screaming his name as you clenched around his thick cock. Lucifer lapped up the blood he had drawn from you before he collapsed on top of you, his demonic form finally subsiding, as you both tried your best to catch your breath. You both laid there for a minute or two before even thinking about moving again. Besides, you loved the feeling of his full weight on top of you, it was comforting.
"Remind me to tease you more often," you joked, running your fingers through Lucifer's soft blond hair. He shot his head up and glared at you with a clear 'don't even think about it' look. "I'm kidding! Mostly…" Lucifer rolled his eyes playfully and planted a small peck to your lips. He finally found the strength to pull out of you and roll over onto his side, exhaling heavily.
"That…didn't really go as planned," Lucifer chuckled nervously. Up until now, you had completely forgotten what had even led up to this moment! You guessed you weren't getting a new dress after all, not that you minded, you had more than enough in your closet as it was. "What SHOULD have happened was you were going to pick out a new dress, I was going to take you out on a beautiful romantic candlelit dinner, and then I...I was…" he paused and gulped. "Oh, to hell with it!" He quickly sat up straight and turned to you, using both of his hand to grab onto yours. You sat up as well, your stomach filled with butterflies for a reason you weren't really sure of. "You were right, you know. I was keeping something from you. I am a very bad liar and I'm even worse at keeping secrets. Especially from you. You told me that I didn't have to tell you right now. But that was the problem! I was fighting with every fiber of my being to not tell you immediately! Because I love you with all of my heart and soul and I want to spend the rest of eternity with you by my side and...and..." he exhaled harshly. With a wave of his hand, a small black velvet box appeared. "My love," he opened the box to reveal a ring, "will you do me the incredible honor of becoming my bride?"
You looked down at the precious jewelry before you. A golden snake for the band, with its body wrapped around a beautiful ruby gem in the shape of an apple. Your eyes swelled with tears, you couldn't stop them from flowing down your face. Lucifer panicked and started to wipe them away.
"I-I'm sorry! Please...please don't cry! I didn't mean to-HMPH!" His apologies were cut short when your lips found his. After you pulled away, you laughed, tears refusing to stop. Lucifer's mouth was agape.
"Yes, Lucifer," you bawled, "yes yes yes, a million times yes! Of course I'll marry you, I've never wanted anything more!"
Lucifer sat there in disbelief. But only for a moment before joining you in your crying, wrapping his arms tightly around you, both of your sobs echoing throughout the room.
"You've made me the happiest person in all of Hell, my dear," he cried as he peppered kisses all over your face, clearing away more of your tears. "I love you, from now until the end of time. I promise to be the best husband I can possibly be."
"You're already the best person for me, my King," you smiled. "You don't have to change a thing. I love you, Lucifer Morningstar."
"And I you, Mrs. Morningstar."
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Congrats on becoming the new Queen(s) of Hell babes 😘
Taglist: @alastor-deer-demon @kermitdafroggy @thonethatflies620 @luc1fersducky @a-okay-rj @bat-boness @myhornybrainonlyknowsthis @misfitgirlwrites @animationmovieshipps @orbitinglumps @ramenkitten @blaackbiird @bigfatbimbo @lucisaspen @bvnnyangel @seulace9 (I'm sorry if I missed anyone!)
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j-0ne25 · 6 months
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TOPLINE — [18+!]
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“So, what are you waiting for?”
“W-What do you mean?”
He gets a bit nearer now, his hand wandering dangerously close to your face.
“Aren’t you coming backstage with me?”
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🎸 SYNOPSIS: For your birthday, Minho manages to get tickets for the hyped club show “Topline”—a concept that offers the spotlight to a surprise artist every week. Your other best friend Jisung declines to come with you and it all makes sense when 3RACHA, the mysterious newcomer indie rock band—that’s pretty overrated in your opinion—appears on stage, featuring him as their guitarist and singer…
🎤 CONTENT INFO: jisung x afab reader, rockstar jisung, best friends to lovers, jisung hides his 3racha identity (hannah montana vibes lol), mutual pining, demisexual reader, smut/fluff, reader is the same age as minho, their friend group is a little bit baboracha, this is a story I wrote for my own bday lmao because I am that delusional especially for rockstar jisung, warnings and smut tags under the cut (include spoilers)
🎫 WORD COUNT: 10.3K
📷 CONTENT WARNING: alcohol consumption, jealousy (both jisung and reader), mention of cigarette smoking, very brief mention of underage drinking in the past
⛓️ SMUT: dom/sub dynamics, oral (f + m receiving), semi-protected piv, katoptronophilia (mirror kink), choking, possessiveness, praise, reader gets called baby, slut, whore, good girl
The characters do not portray any of the skz members in real life, the names are just used for fiction. Minors do not interact, this post contains mature topics. By reading you consent to nsfw content and agree that you have read all the warnings above carefully.
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“Y/N, can you hand me a beer opener?” Jisung asks you, two bottles in each hand, making it four, fitting exactly for your little friend group get-together.
Just when you're about to give him the metallic object, Minho slides into the kitchen, blocking the space between the two of you. He reaches inside his jeans pocket as he teases the younger one, “Use a lighter, Ji.”
Your other friend just rolls his eyes but you keep your eyes fixated on Minho’s hands—trying to focus not too much on those veins—as he flips away lid after lid from the individual bottles. When he notices you observing his skills, he sends a smirk your way.
“I can teach you, Y/N.”
You giggle, hiding your smile behind your hand, before you grab one of the beers. The guys do the same, Jisung—trying his best to not roll his eyes because of Minho’s dumb attempt to flirt with you—carrying the fourth one to bring it to the living room where you find Yuqi. Busy occupying your games console, she is currently rushing Yoshi towards the finishing line on the Rainbow Road, making him win the first place for her.
“Ah, thank you, guys,” she says, once she spots the beverage on the couch table. When the screen is turned off, she brings her focus back to the group, ready to listen to the sound of the bottles clinking together.
“Thank you for being here,” you say.
“Of course, we wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Yuqi replies, throwing her arm around your shoulder.
Everyone takes a sip, before the conversation continues but for a moment you don’t engage too much and decide to just live right here, right now. Enjoy the last half an hour before it’s finally your birthday.
You’re so incredibly thankful to spend your time with your loved ones. Those three dorks are definitely the most important people in your life.
You met Yuqi in college, on the way to find a certain lecture hall on campus while running late. She saw you struggling to read the map of the lot and helped you—despite being quite lost herself—so, you managed to get to your destination together, receiving the biggest scolding from the professor but this was also the beginning of an amazing friendship.
Minho is your oldest friend. Since your mothers have been friends and neighbours before you have even existed and considering the fact he’s born in the same year as you, you were bound to become besties. You’ve actually despised each other when you were younger and still in that ‘boys are so stupid’ phase and Minho was vice versa, but it all worked out in the end when you grew older.
Jisung met Minho first, during their dance practice, and when your childhood friend introduced you to the younger one, the duo became a trio in highschool and a quarter in college. 
Now a few years later, all of you busy being adults and working full time jobs, you’re still as close as you used to be. However, you’ve noticed the slightest switch in the dynamics, considering a certain member of the friend groups.
Caused by your hopeless feelings, your interactions with Jisung have lessened a bit in the past months or almost years. For you, it has always made the most sense to stay away from him a bit to not hurt yourself even more. It breaks your heart that he doesn’t seem to notice—neither that you have feelings for him, nor that you’re drifting apart.
Well, you are still very close friends but not as close as you used to be, if that makes sense.
And knowing that he doesn’t care makes you even more insecure.
You’ve thought about forgetting about him but whenever you tried, you simply failed. Due to your own sexual preferences and desires—including the need to have a special bond with someone in order to get intimate—you’re not up for one night stands or friends with benefits. Dating other people hasn’t been successful either, considering no one seems to want anything serious anymore.
So, that’s where you’re left off.
Hopelessly in love with your close friend and no improvement ahead.
“It’s almost midnight, right?” Minho awakens you from your daydreams.
Shit. You hope they didn’t notice you drifting off. But judging from Yuqi’s energised monologue about her Mario Kart game earlier, you’re sure you’re fine.
What you don’t know is that Jisung has noticed your thoughts being far gone. He often catches himself believing that he’s the cause for that—he swears he sometimes witnesses you staring at him for a bit too long.
But he usually brushes those ideas off, just for his own sake and those dumb hopeless little feelings he has for you.
“Hm, just a few more minutes and then I’ll be old,” you sigh.
“I’ll get the drinks ready,” you hear Yuqi sing.
The next minutes pass by and just a moment later, you find yourself surrounded by your closest loved ones, everyone carrying a beverage of their choice in their hand, as you count down from ten to zero.
Ten
You’re pretty sure that Gin Tonic was a dumb idea. Mixing it with beer is something you used to do ten years ago in your teenage years but your body is definitely too old for that. You can basically already taste the hangover on your tongue. Minho and Yuqi seem to be the most mature, staying with beer whereas Jisung is drinking his favourite, very special beverage—a mixture of white wine, vodka and berry lemonade, which is a pretty weird invention he made like ten years ago.
Nine, eight, seven
Yuqi is wearing beautiful glittering makeup. You’re only able to take in the details now, maybe because she switched seats and is now sitting right under the small chandelier that is dangling from the ceiling. You should ask her where she’s got those pretty gemstones from, later.
Six, five, four
Jisung is carrying that bracelet with the sapphire around his wrist that you bought for his birthday. He’s never been that much into gemstones but knows that you are and that’s why he asked for something like that for his special day. He’s been wearing it since then, which, unfortunately, just makes you fall in love with him even more.
Three
Minho’s upper body is covered in one of those cosy sweaters that he always likes to wear—under the condition that you didn’t steal them again. He doesn’t mind you snatching away his stuff but another person does care a little too much—Jisung, although he would never admit that.
Two
It’s pitch dark outside, probably caused by the clouds that are floating in the sky, covering the stars like a curtain. The weather has gotten colder again, but you don’t mind. Usually, too high temperatures overwhelm you, so you’re thankful to be able to breathe again.
One
You’re wondering when you should get the midnight snacks ready. Probably after your friends have wished you all the best. God, you’re already hungry again and definitely—as always—prepared way too much food for that little gathering.
Zero
The clinking noises of the glasses echoe through the room, bright smiles and cheering sounds fill your surroundings, as all of your friends welcome you into a group hug and into the new year of your life.
“Happy birthday, dear,” Yuqi says, placing a kiss on your cheek.
“All the best, Y/N,” you hear Jisung say.
“Thanks for having us here. Happy birthday, doll,” Minho adds, unable to hold back that nickname.
Time flies by again, a second drink follows, as you bring some more food and your friends are thankful for that. Just when you’re about to carry another round of shots to the couch table, Minho and Yuqi awkwardly stand up, hiding something behind their backs.
“Actually,” Minho starts, “Yuqi and I have a present with us that can’t wait until your official party on Friday since it’s something that’s already happening tomorrow, well—today. I mean on your birthday itself.”
You look at them with big eyes, “So, this evening?”
“Yeah,” Yuqi says, before handing you an envelope. “Open it.”
You do as you're told, ripping off the cover of the letter, before you are greeted with four sheets of high quality paper.
“You guys bought tickets for the Topline show?! You’re insane! How long have you been on that waiting list? Thank you so much,” you let out.
Wow. You’ve always wanted to go there, you’ve been talking about this since that show started.
“I know a guy,” Minho says, making you giggle.
You pull out the tickets completely now, “So, four tickets, so we can all go together?”
Yuqi nods, giving you a satisfied smile.
“Hm, that’s how it’s gonna be.”
You see Jisung walking towards you now, a layer of embarrassment and another emotion you can’t quite put into place decorating his face.
“I… I’m really sorry, Y/N, but I won’t make it. I have work tomorr– today.”
“Your boss makes you work on my birthday?” you jokingly pout.
“Sorry, I’ll remind him once more that the whole world revolves around you,” he teases you back.
Jisung is sad about the fact he can’t go with you, either. He would have loved to be there, but there’s no chance he can make it.
“Dude, don’t be so mean to Y/N,” Minho scolds the younger one.
“Min, I can defend myself,” you reply, crossing your arms in front of your chest like a little toddler would do.
“Oh, sure, baby,” he says with a wink.
Jisung can’t put into words how furious he gets whenever Minho calls you by those stupid nicknames. They should be reserved for him and not thrown around jokingly. God, he should really get himself together. That jealousy is getting frustrating.
You take another glimpse at the tickets, as you say, “I’m so excited about who it’s gonna be!”
Yuqi claps her hands, severely excited as well—of course, she already has her assumptions.
“Rumours said it could be 3RACHA—pretty exciting, they haven’t shown their faces before.”
Ugh. You dearly hope it is anyone but that group. You enjoyed their music in the beginning, when they debuted a few months ago but unfortunately they gained lots of success in a way too short span of time, becoming absolutely mainstream now.
Sure, their concepts of hiding behind animal masks and their diverse lyrics—about society, mental health, intimacy and also the music industry itself are impressive but especially that last mentioned topic doesn’t seem so authentic, considering Twitter says they actually have a big company and ghost writers behind them.
That’s why you lost interest in them rather quickly.
“They had concerts before and wore their masks. Usually, the audience has to put a sticker on their camera lenses. It’s generally like this at Topline shows,” Minho explains.
“Who is 3RACHA?”
“Are you living under a rock, Han Jisung? They are the newcomer indie rock band. Incredibly talented,” Yuqi says, quite dramatic as if she’s starring in a musical.
“Yeah… indie rock,” you say, clearing your throat.
“Are they not?” Jisung asks further.
Oh, that boy is oblivious. You wonder how it’s possible that he doesn’t know 3RACHA. After all, he is usually very invested in anything music related—especially alternative genres.
“Not in my opinion,” you explain. “If you ask me, they are pretty overrated. They just appeared out of nowhere, went viral and now they are publishing song after song like some industry plants. Quite the opposite of indie.”
“Genre speaking they are indie, though,” Minho corrects you. “Like solely based on the music itself, it’s indie rock. Twitter might say they have a big company and ghost writers behind them, but they make indie music. Despite that, those are just rumours.”
You sigh, ready to start a debate. You feel your blood boiling for some reason, although it’s really not that serious. Sometimes, you hate this about yourself—the slightest inconveniences manage to throw you off your rhythm and you have expected it to become better with time but the older you got, the more it just worsened.
“It’s not indie if it’s pop music. That’s a contradiction,” you say, “I don’t see any reason to support a group that contributes to the commercialisation of indie music. Most groups that become famous get very bad and even though I liked some of their earlier songs, they became mainstream and therefore just some group like any other.”
Minho rolls his eyes, “Yeah, Y/N, I get what you mean. I used to think like this too but… well… then I turned sixteen.”
Maybe Minho is right.
“Fuck you,” you say but chuckle, letting him know that you realise you’ve overreacted a bit.
“No matter who performs, this is gonna be an awesome night,” Minho says, pulling you towards him and placing a kiss on your forehead.
Right next to you, on the other side, it takes everything inside Jisung to not absolutely lose his mind when he sees his older friend’s lips collide with your soft skin. It should be him instead who gets to be so close to you.
“If Jisung isn’t available, is there someone else you would like to invite?” Yuqi drags him out of his carousel of jealousy.
“I can ask my friend Felix from work,” you say.
The others know Felix. He’s not necessarily a permanent member of the group, but they like him, too.
“Sure, send me his number and I can create a group chat.” You nod, before Yuqi turns around towards the youngest. “Depending on how long your work shift is, we can go clubbing after, Jisung.”
He simply nods.
🎸
Considering both facts that you’ve had a few drinks too much and also have a long day ahead of you, your three friends agreed to call it a night. They helped you clean the remaining things in your living room. You told them not too, but Minho insisted, knowing you’re a bit too chaotic to do that in your sleepy state.
Yuqi presses a kiss on your cheek, before Minho helps her into her shoes—unfortunately that last round of shots was too much for her. You’re glad they’re all going home together, taking the same bus and leaving the vehicle at the same stop. Jisung and Minho promised to bring Yuqi home first before they head towards their shared apartment—like they always do.
The oldest stumble down the staircases of your apartment building, after they said their hundredth goodbyes.
From your bathroom, a seemingly tired Jisung appears. He looks adorable like this—his hair disheveled, eyes trying their best to not close shut, as he catches a glimpse of you.
“Thank you for the invitation,” he says, as he pulls you into a hug in order to say goodbye to you, as well.
God. You could drown in the scents of his perfume. You’ve always wondered if Jisung has ever noticed that you sometimes search for excuses to get close to him. He’s actually aware that you're not that much into skinship but his insecurities get in the way, telling him to not read too much into it.
What you do know for sure is that after all this time, the relationship with Jisung differs from your other two best friends. It may sound weird but he is the only one who you feel comfortable around to be your inner, true self. You can drop that facade whenever he’s with you, be the most authentic version of your being.
It doesn’t matter if it’s music—you’re sure he would have agreed with you on that debate earlier, if he knew the group—mundane things like food or fashion, mental health or politics, he will always listen to you and knows exactly, whether to give a logical, helpful advice or just let out his emotions together with you.
He’s never judged you for any of your interests—quite the opposite, encouraged you and asked further. Jisung has always made time for you to listen to your little monologues about either your current hyperfixation or long time hobbies.
Some of them align with his, especially music or fashion, which is why you spend so much time together, even though that decreased since you’ve realised you want to be more than just friends.
You suddenly remember a fond memory, when he went into a jewellery store with you a few months ago—witnessing you talk about gemstones and accessories for hours although he doesn’t know that much about it. You showed him a pretty necklace that had an opal attached to them. Jisung loved listening to you rant about the piece—the way you described the multiple colours and reflection made him become invested in this topic as well.
Of course, his hopeless little feelings play a huge role here too, but he would never admit that.
Shit.
The both of you have probably been zoned out for a whole minute now, still pulled into a hug with one another. Awkwardly, you let go of him and clear your throat.
“Have lots of fun, Y/N,” he says, finding your eyes, “I’ll be there with you next time. You’re gonna get your present at your party.”
You chuckle, not even thinking about some gift, as you slightly nudge his shoulder. Jisung tries to stay calm from the sudden touch but that last shot he took half an hour ago is still very present in his system, just like the thought of you is constantly occupying his mind.
“Don’t stress about that, Sungie. We can always meet another time… maybe… just the two of us, without Yuqi and Minho making their comments,” you tell him.
You blame it on the alcohol. This was not supposed to sound flirty, but spending time with Jisung and just Jisung differs a lot from being in a group with him. You want him to know that you appreciate his company, although the two of you have been somewhat drifting apart.
“S-Sure.”
He nods, before he steps into his shoes and heads into the hallway of the apartment building.
“Goodnight, Sungie. Love you,” you say.
“Love you, too.”
He takes a last look at you, giving you a soft smile, before he walks towards the stairs.
“Get your ass here, lovebird,” you hear Minho scream from downstairs, the sound of the arriving bus calling in the distance.
🎸
“Be careful, doll,” Minho says, as he guides you through the crowd. He’s holding your right hand, his other one is attached to Yuqi, who is leading the way. Felix follows behind you, his palm connected to yours.
It takes some time for you to get through the monstrous horde of people, some of them already slightly drunk. You guys all had burgers and beer before the show but one drink combined with the tasty but greasy fast food isn’t enough to get you even remotely tipsy.
Maybe it’s the fact Yuqi is telling everyone it’s your birthday today—which results in a lot of strangers wishing you all the best and cheering for you—or pure luck, but you somehow manage to make it to the first row of the audience.
“I’m so excited,” you let out, once the group comes to a halt.
“Samesy! Do you guys want anything to drink? I’ll head to the bar,” Yuqi offers.
Minho raises one of his eyebrows, “Now that we have the best spot available?”
“It’s okay. Let Y/N wait here, I’ll go with Yuqi,” Felix intervenes.
“Alright,” you answer with a smile, “I don’t need anything, though. Still have my beer.”
“Me too,” Minho adds.
Yuqi and Felix nod in unison, before they make their way towards the bar.
In the meantime, your childhood friend and you solely enjoy the moment of the evening, as some alternative rock playlist is blasting from the speakers. He adores that excitement on your face, as it reminds him of when you were approximately twenty years younger but it feels as if it was just yesterday.
“Thank you again for this, Min.”
He shakes his head, “Not for that.”
You both get interrupted when you feel a vibrating sound in the pocket of your dress—yes, your dress has pockets—indicating you’ve received a message from the group chat.
[Yuqi 🦒 21:27]: Sorry, we can’t make it back to the first row. People here are too stubborn. @ Minho and @ Y/N just stay where you are, we’ll meet after the concert! 😘 Have fun babes!
You witness Minho rolling his eyes, a wordless way of saying ‘I’ve told them so’ but this won’t get between you and your great mood for the evening.
“It’s alright. Let’s just stay here and enjoy the concert together, okay?”
He nods, “Okay, Y/N. I’ll send them a quick text.”
Minho types and once he’s finished, you read his message on the server.
[Minho 21:28]: OK 👍🏻
Right after Minho and you have put your phones away, the lights turn off, shrinking the room in a dark atmosphere. Excitement is building up at lightning speed, cheering and growling sounds echoing through the hall.
Until a man around your age steps on the stage, right under the awakening spotlight, speaking into the microphone.
“Welcome to Topline, guys! I’m Hongjoong, your host for the night and creator of the popular show. Thank you for coming. We’re gonna have an awesome night, I’ll promise you.”
He gets interrupted by a few more cheering sounds and a laughter of his own—it’s an honour to organise an event like this, really. Especially with the guests for tonight.
“So, friends,” he begins again, “let’s all welcome our stars of the night with me. Here for you, tonight, is… 3RACHA!”
For fuck’s sake.
Happy birthday, Y/N.
The first two or three songs are probably a blur. You are getting some apologetic and empathetic looks from Minho, as if he is trying to say sorry for something he can’t control.
But once you are getting into it, finally allowing your stubbornness to take a break for once and when the three artists are playing their older songs, some of them as a louder, more instrumental version, you catch yourself nodding your head along to the beat.
Fuck it. They’re good. They’re great. You can’t deny it. Like, objectively speaking, they are granting the crowd an amazing show which is still an absolute understatement.
Just the scene as a whole is incredible—all of them are singing and rapping, the guy with the pig mask is sitting behind the drums, the wolf in the middle is playing the bass and the last one, who you assume to pretend to be a squirrel or quokka, is responsible for all the guitar tunes.
They are amazing.
3RACHA isn’t overrated, they are quite literally underrated. Holy shit.
“Y/N,” you suddenly hear Minho speak from beside you. He’s gotten a little closer so his words are audible over the noise inside the club. “In case you don't like it, we can always leave and I can get tickets for some other–“
“It’s alright, Min,” you reassure him, giving him an honest smile. “The show and the music is great. I was being immature, really.”
He pulls you towards you, placing another one of those quick pecks on top of your head, as he teases, “I told you so.”
You roll your eyes, before you bring your attention back to the artists. The current song ends a few seconds later and the musicians take a quick pause from performing, taking a sip from their drinks.
The bassist and drummer are drinking beer.
Whereas… you’re now noticing a detail.
The squirrel dude’s beverage.
The light isn’t that bright inside but when you spot the bottles of the main ingredients in the background, you realise why it feels so familiar.
White wine. Vodka. Berry Lemonade.
“Welcome to our show,” the guy in the middle interrupts your thought process. “We are 3RACHA. Just a quick introduction—I’m CB97. This is our drummer, SpearB,” he explains, gesturing towards the guy with the pig mask, “and to my right is J.One, our guitarist. Thank you for joining us here tonight.”
The room gets filled with another wave of cheering and Minho and you join along.
“Thank you so much, guys,” J.One speaks and you try your best to listen to the sound of his voice, “our next song is called ‘Gemstone’. It’s a more EDM driven piece, a bit different from what we’ve published so far.”
No.
Never.
This is too suspicious. This is impossible.
Well, you could get confused by his voice, considering they are hiding behind masks and speaking through a microphone.
But the dumb drink.
And a song called Gemstone.
You feel as if you're in trance, as if the music has taken over you and it turns into exactly this, when they start playing again.
You’re entering a movie, for sure, your own personal music video, when the tunes are swirling into your ears. 
This is indescribable.
The melody. The words. Their stage presence. It’s insane. Literally insane.
Gemstone is a song you’ve instantly liked from the beginning. You want to turn it into your new personality when you leave the club tonight.
There are parts and bits that make you a little lightheaded, when you listen more carefully to the lyrics. It’s a song about romance and intimacy after all, so you shouldn’t put too much thought into this.
But whenever you close your eyes, all you can see in front of you is Jisung.
And when J.One starts singing the hook, the sentences are too fitting, letting goosebumps erupt all over your skin.
‘If you kissed me, the horrors would fade away, the world would be a little less fucked up. I could name a thousand things I adore about you and still wouldn’t have said enough.’
It could be your delusional self but you could swear the guitarist is looking at you—especially, whenever Minho gets a little closer to you, laying his arm around your shoulder or whenever he’s dancing with you.
‘Your gaze, nothing else, between luck and euphoria, you’re something like my personal utopia.’
But before you’re able to read too much into it, the song is already over. You can still feel the aftermath of the bass pumping through your heart for the past two and a half minutes.
“Thank you so much, you guys are amazing,” the bassist compliments the crowd.
“We don’t want to be compromised to just one genre,” the drummer starts explaining, “we want to reinvent ourselves over and over again. There are too many possibilities in this world and way too many creative ideas in our heads to just stick to one genre.”
“That’s right, fuck genres,” the guitarist in front of you shouts, the crowd repeating his words.
When the noises subside, an intruder tries to prove the exact same opposite. The words of the drunk male voice are stumbled but still audible.
“Fucking industry plants!” 
Silence. For exactly three seconds.
“Repeat that,” SpearB says, his tone staying severe.
“Say that again, you little shit,” J.One adds, reacting a bit differently than his band mate does.
Their unofficial leader takes a step forward now, letting his instrument dangle from his body, as he reaches for his microphone with both hands.
“In general, whoever says that we’re industry plants,” CB97 starts, the volume of his voice guardedly increasing with every sentence, “we spent fucking years doing hard work to get where we are today, we did all this by ourselves with zero help.”
The whole crowd cheers along, showing that most people don’t believe what some chronically online kids on Twitter blurt around.
“We don’t care if you think that we ain’t alternative enough for you,” the man in the middle continues, “because at the end of the day, your girlfriends are the ones that are screaming at our concerts first and will later do the same backstage.”
Cheering. Whisteling. From everywhere. Begging that they should play another song. You are sure a few fangirls have basically fainted but you could never blame them.
“Oh, Lord. Do they take boyfriends with them, too?” Minho asks, before he earns a nudge on his shoulder from you. However, you can't help but chuckle at his question.
Another few songs follow, you fully take in the moment, allowing your brain to take a break from thinking about everything that’s messing with your mind. You’re pushing the idea aside that J.One could be Jisung, wondering if he’s busy at work tonight and if he will join the group later.
The melody comes to an end, you can tell by the shift in the atmosphere that the show is nearing it’s finish line as well and you wished you could stay for longer. You’ve never had such a good time at a concert and you have attended many of them.
“You guys are following our good friend Hongjoong’s advice, right?” SpearB asks the guests.
As if you’re in school, the whole crowd nods simultaneously.
“You’ve got your stickers on your cameras, is that correct?” J.One makes sure the audience knows what his bandmate is referring to.
Different kinds of agreement are echoing through the hall.
“Alright, it’s getting a bit warm under these masks,” CB97 says, before he pulls the wolf’s face off of his own.
“Thank you for tonight, guys,” SpearB adds, now showing himself, too.
“It was an honour to perform here.”
The last mask lands on the floor.
And there, right in front of you, where there was once the squirrel guitarist is your one and only friend and crush—Han Jisung.
“Sungie, you idiot,” Minho scoffs, before he bursts out into laughter, “now it makes sense that he couldn’t join us. I was already wondering how he hasn’t ever heard of 3RACHA. That menace played us.”
Your childhood friend’s words become a blur, when Jisung’s eyes find your own and you give him a soft smile.
For another second he looks back, no mimics in his face except for something that looks a bit like disappointment, before he disconnects your glances and focuses on the rest of the crowd instead.
The last song flies by, before 3RACHA says their goodbyes and disappears behind the curtains again.
“Are you okay, doll?”
You nod, “Yeah. Let’s go find the others.”
Minho doesn’t ask further, as he guides you out of the club and towards the rest of the group. Shortly after, you spot Yuqi and Felix outside the venue. Just when your friends are about to share the unbelievable plot twist of Jisung being part of the one and only 3RACHA, you notice something.
“Fuck! I forgot my jacket inside…”
“We will wait here for you, is that alright, dear?” Yuqi suggests. She’s already lightened a cigarette and is currently doing the same for Felix and Minho.
“Of course, I’ll be quick,” you say.
Fortunately, most people have already left. You’ve spotted a few fangirls waiting near the stage for the artists to come back, maybe they want to ask for autographs, selfies or whatever 3RACHA’s leader promised in his speech about the industry.
Your stomach does a weird twist at the idea that Jisung could spend the night with a woman from the crowd—that isn’t you—as well, but you do your best to just leave the venue as fast as possible.
Caused by your own clumsiness—it can’t be the alcohol, you haven’t had that much thanks to the insane prices in the club—you accidentally use the wrong door to get outside, making you end up in the parking lot behind the building.
For fuck’s sake.
You open Google Maps, thinking it’s way too embarrassing to go inside the club a third time, until a voice startles you.
“Look, who we have here.”
Of course, none other than the guitarist, J.One, Han Jisung, your friend and crush is standing in front of you.
“You indeed had work today,” you tease him.
You haven’t forgotten about the shift in his demeanour once he put down the mask. You’re sure he’s noticed that you’ve realised way before this that it could be him. However, it still leaves you confused.
“Hm, the life of an industry plant is hard.”
Yeah. You’re not even mad at him. With all the things you said yesterday, you feel like the worst friend in this world.
God, you and your dumb stubbornness. This is your own fault, Y/N.
“Sung… I– I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were part of the group and–“
“Yeah, you in fact didn’t know. Still, there was no reason to judge us artists,” Jisung says.
His voice is stern. If he wasn’t so annoyed by the assumptions you made almost twenty four hours ago, your head would start spinning because of his strictness. You’ve never witnessed him like that and you feel even more awful that it makes you a little dizzy.
“I… I really liked the songs y-you played and you seemed to have so much fun on stage,” you add.
“Is that all?”
You don’t answer, too perplexed to react to this new type of Jisung that is standing in front of you. Not just his behaviour is different, but also his overall look—the leather jacket showing off how broad his shoulders actually are, the piercing on his lower lip making you want to place your mouth on his.
“Well, if that’s all there is, you should get back to Minho and I’ll head backstage.”
He slowly turns around on his feet.
“Sung– wait,” you interrupt him.
Jisung clicks his tongue, his eyes finding your own again.
“Yeah?”
You can see it. That stupid smirk on his face. His fucking beautiful face.
“You… I’m sorry I said those things. Unrelated to the fact you’re part of the band, that was very shitty of me to judge people I don’t even know just based on some fake-woke bullshit people said online. You also looked… s-stunning on stage, really. I’ve never seen you shine like this before.”
And it made me fall in love with you even more. Fuck.
“Thank you.” His words are honest. “So, what are you waiting for?”
Huh? What is he on about? Does he want to hear even more? This is so Jisung of him, fishing for even more compliments.
“W-What do you mean?”
He gets a bit nearer now, his hand wandering dangerously close to your face.
“Aren’t you coming backstage with me?”
Jisung pushes a strand of your hair out of your face, as if this is the most normal thing in the world.
Oh, God. Your heart is basically pumping out of your chest, knees getting weak and a sensation is building up in your lower stomach.
“B-Backstage?”
He nods, “Hm, I have the birthday present with me. It’s in my backpack. Of course, if you don’t have anywhere else to be.”
His finger wanders further, softly traveling over your cheek, down your jar, until he lets go of you.
“N-No. I’ll just text the group chat, so they don’t worry about me.”
Jisung gives you enough space to reach for your phone, before you start typing.
They will understand, right? It’s your birthday, after all. You can always join them later, maybe they can send a location and already look for a club you could go to.
You sent the text.
[You 23:09]: I’ll meet up with Jisung and his bandmates. Also got my jacket! Don’t wait for me. Thanks for spending my birthday with me and the amazing present. I love you guys, have fun clubbing and get home safely ❤️
You immediately get a reply.
[Felix 🐣 23:10]: Thank you for taking me with you! Have a great rest of your birthday, Y/N 🫶🏻
You see Minho typing. Yuqi starts texting, too. The three little dots from Minho disappear, no message being sent by him but another one hits you.
[Yuqi 🦒 23:11]: Have fun ✨ Thank YOU for spending your special day with us. I’m happy you liked our present so much 🥹🥰
Minho starts typing again until he stops and another text pops up.
[Minho 🐰 23:11]: use condoms
Oh, that little shit. You take a mental note to scold him for that later.
[Yuqi 🦒 23:12]: minhoooo 😭😭 you menace
[Felix 🐣 23:12]: DUDE JISUNG IS IN THE CHAT TOO
[Minho 🐰 23:13]: yeah, this was on purpose ;)
You decide to not follow the conversation further, placing your device back into the pocket of your dress.
Jisung suddenly grabs your hand, guiding you towards the back door of the venue.
It’s silent, but you don't mind. Your friend has always been the type of person who doesn’t make not talking to each other uncomfortable. That’s one of the many things you adore the most when it comes to him.
Walking down the hallway, you meet Jisung’s bandmates.
“A-amazing show,” you blurt out.
“Thank you, you must be Y/N, right?” You nod. “I’m Changbin.”
“I’m Chris. Jisung has told us a lot about you,” the taller one says with a grin.
In the corner of your eyes you can witness your best friend getting shy—the pretty reddish layer that enlightens on his cheeks makes him even more beautiful, if that’s possible.
“Well, see you later,” Changbin adds, before both of them walk away and disappear.
A minute later, you find yourself in Jisung’s assigned room. It’s just how you both imagined a backstage room of a rockstar and the backstage room of your friend Jisung. Piles of clothes are scattered all over the floor, indicating he put a lot of thought into his outfit and you can only agree.
Even here in the dim lights, off the stage, he looks alluring, almost god-like, you can’t deny it. Just once more, he catches you staring at him but he either doesn’t show you or he’s very subtle about it. After all, he tries his best to not let this little glance of yours mess with his stupid feelings for you.
It’s an odd situation. Of course, you’d behave differently and be excited—it definitely has nothing to do with him. You’re probably also looking forward to receiving your gift.
Speaking of, Jisung manages to walk around the chaos on the floor without stomping on the clothes with his plateau boots. He looks a lot taller now, wearing them, and also a thousand times hotter. Seeing him closer in his stage outfit allows your eyes to finally take in all the details.
The ripped jeans look great on him and so does the huge leather jacket with all the patches attached to the thick black fabric. You absolutely adore the way his hair is styled—the sides cut down to a few millimetres whereas the long strands are flowing down, curling themselves a little.
Fuck. You’re so absolutely doomed.
“This is for you,” Jisung suddenly says, standing beside you. You haven’t even noticed him approaching you but he hands you a small box that is covered in dark red velvet.
It looks like someone would store a… an accessory in.
No. He wouldn’t buy you something that expensive. You’re just friends, right? Wouldn’t that be weird?
You still reach for it, sending him a quick smile before you carefully open the soft box.
Your eyes are met with the most beautiful gemstone you’ve ever seen.
He can’t be for real.
It’s indeed the opal necklace you guys saw a few months ago when going shopping. You wonder, if he had just remembered it after all this time or possibly bought it back then without you even knowing.
Your mouth falls agape without you even knowing but you realise, once Jisung’s hand lands under your chin, tilting your head upwards so you’re looking at him.
“Happy birthday, Y/N.”
Immediately pulling him into a hug, your nostrils are greeted with the scent of his perfume, making your head get a little dizzy. Shit. You’ve underestimated this.
You’ve underestimated all of this.
But how can you stay calm when Jisung is near you?
Your best friend.
Your best friend who is a rockstar.
Your best friend who you’re desperately in love with.
He bought that fucking opal necklace for you. You’ve always thought you're annoying him with your monologues about gemstones but he was just paying attention, after all.
“Woah– thank you so much, Sungie,” you say, still holding him close. “This is extremely pretty—and fuck, so expensive. You’re crazy… Sorry, I forgot how to form a sentence.”
Jisung giggles.
He disconnects from your tight grip then, just to catch a glimpse of your beautiful face. Your best friend finds your eyes stinging with tears even before you’re able to grasp that. You look so perfect, just standing there, staring back at him. Jisung could melt at the sight.
He gestures for you to turn around and just for him you do a little swirl, before you hand him the velvety box. Jisung reaches for it, fishing the accessory piece out of it, as it’s circling around your neck now. Your fingers catch the opal, tips softly grazing over the gemstone. Your friend secures the chain and after that you turn around again.
God, the necklace looks so beautiful on you, as if the jewellery was made for you. As if mother nature created that certain stone just for you.
And whereas for Jisung…
He’s underestimated this.
He’s underestimated all of this.
But how can he stay calm when you are near him?
His best friend.
His best friend who was standing in the front row during his concert and watched every second of the show.
His best friend who he’s desperately in love with.
This whole scene, this whole evening, this whole everything makes him turn incredibly lightheaded. He wants to blame it on the drink he had on stage but this didn’t m do anything to him. He’s not even tipsy. If he’s drunk, he’s drunk on his feelings for you—as cheesy as it sounds.
But Jisung can’t confess to you. Not on your birthday.
What if it doesn’t go well? Not only will your friendship suffer from it but you’re forced to be reminded of that embarrassing situation of a lifetime whenever you reach another year around the sun.
“What are you thinking about, Sungie?”
Fuck.
He’s helpless. He’s absolutely helpless whenever you use that nickname, it’s a crime, really.
There’s no going back. 
Not when you look at him like this—so hopeful, so absolutely hopeful, encouraging him to gather up enough confidence.
“I… I’ve bought the necklace for you so everyone knows that…”
His words get cut off in his own throat. He’s underestimated everything once again. Shit. He’s so fucking overwhelmed. Jisung is a thousand times more nervous than when he’s on stage.
“That, what?”
But it’s now or never, right?
He sighs and takes a deep breath.
“That y-you belong to me. I’m so sorry for confessing this on your birthday but you’re my muse, Y/N. You’re more than a friend to me, you’re the one who inspires me the most and just knowing you enjoyed seeing me do what I love, makes me the happiest man on this planet,” he explains.
That you belong to me.
He says that you belong to him.
The one and only Han Jisung, your best friend, the rockstar, says that you belong to him.
This is—without a single doubt—the best birthday present you have ever received.
Your thoughts are running free, probably at the speed of light by now and at the same time you’re not able to think straight at all.
You tilt your head a little, creating a posture and mimic that Jisung can’t really interpret and it would be an understatement to say that it confuses him even more.
You’re confused, too. Overwhelmed how to answer although you technically know what you want to say. You’ve been waiting for this moment for so long and now that the time is right, the words get stuck in your throat.
“Jisung… I–“
“You honestly don’t have to say anything,” he interrupts you. “I don’t expect anything. If you want, I can call Minho to pick you up so you can get back home–“
“Why are you talking about Minho? Why would I want to go home? I don’t understand,” you tell him.
Why is he bringing your other friend into this? You dearly hope he didn’t get insecure because of the little touches you shared with the older one earlier.
“Because I just overshared and confessed my feelings even though you don’t even like me back and–“
You decide to shut his rambling up by kissing him.
And, oh God, do his lips feel perfect pressed against your own. It feels like fireworks are shooting up right above you. It feels like the leaves of the maple trees turning bright orange once autumn is around the corner. It feels like getting a taste of your favourite ice cream flavour on a late summer afternoon.
It’s everything you’ve ever needed.
Jisung—despite all his second guesses—decides to take the lead, when you welcome his tongue in. You’ve never experienced him like this. He’s pulling you closer, wishing to be even nearer to you, as a groan slips from his mouth, making him sound like a man starving from hunger—hunger for you.
It doesn’t take long for him to push you towards the styling table at the end of the room and when your ass collides with the wooden material, he hovers you onto the surface. You instantly part your legs for him, as Jisung is now standing right between your thighs, still busy kissing you, not even thinking a second about letting go of you.
Until those stupid thoughts creep inside his head again.
What if it’s nothing serious for you?
What if he’s about to make a fool out of himself when it turns out you don’t like him back?
It is ironic that Jisung is such a confident musician out on the stage but gets insecure so easily just from his own stupid thoughts.
He can’t help but pull away from you. His confused eyes find yours and that’s when it clicks for you, too. This wasn’t the best way to continue a conversation like this. Of course, your feelings took over you and sometimes actions say more than a thousand words but there’s still too much left unspoken, you get that, too.
“Sorry, I should have asked first…” you admit with a small voice.
Jisung takes a deep breath. It feels as if regret is plastered over his face but you might be wrong. You’ve never been good at reading people’s expressions.
“What does this mean, Y/N?” he asks. “I swear, if you’re playing with me I–“
“I’m not,” you immediately answer, reaching for both his hands with your own. You give them a soft squeeze before you bring your gaze back to him, taking a deep breath that’s absolutely necessary for what’s to follow.
“I like you back, Sungie. You’re more than a friend to me. There is no one in this world that understands me more than you do.”
His lips are brushing your again, ending in another one of those passionate, this time slower, kisses.
“Fuck… how is this your birthday but it’s literally the best day of my life?”
You chuckle, unsure what to reply.
But there’s no need to contemplate, when Jisung is busy attacking your jawline with rough kisses next, before he paints your neck with the same ones. This is when the first pathetic little whimper spills from your lips, as you’re unable to hold back that waterfall of emotions.
You’re here with him.
With Jisung. Your best friend turned lover.
Han Jisung, the fucking rockstar and you are his muse.
This is a dream come true.
You’re already absolutely hypnotised, both by the scene itself as well as Jisung’s passionate touches, the kisses being drawn all over your skin. He lets go for a moment, to get you to focus on him.
On eye level again, his gaze is basically taking your clothes off—until his hands sneak around your waist, pulling you closer, as his mouth finds your own. Kissing Jisung feels so natural, it’s as if you’ve done this a thousand times before and at the same time, every new touch feels as if it’s the first ever.
He earns a whine from you, when he pulls back. But you’re forgetting about the sudden loss of touch, when his palms wander towards your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh a little, while another make out session starts. Your arms are thrown over his shoulders, fingers playing with his curls.
Jisung’s hands decide to go on a little adventure, as they brush the hem of your beautiful dress. When the guitarist spotted you in the crowd earlier, his mouth fell agape at the sight of you. Luckily, his mask was there to hide that expression. Sometimes it feels, as if he is your fan, cheering you on, just for your sole existence.
That’s exactly what he’s gonna show you tonight. This will be a birthday that you’ll never forget.
His lips are—as usual—attached to yours, tongues entangled and dancing together to the beat of your hearts. Sneakily, Jisung slips his hands under the dark fabric of your outfit, painfully slowly wandering upwards to your heat.
As if you’re on autopilot, you spread your legs even further, while you feel Jisung chuckle against your mouth. God, having you this eager for him and only him is the best dream come true.
Jisung isn’t just the happiest man on this planet, he’s the happiest man in this whole fucking universe.
And it’s proven when he’s once again allowed to listen to those beautiful sounds you make, those high-pitched moans that slip out of you, when he wanders further. Without a warning, two of his fingers brush over your panties—finding a wet patch right there.
This is all he needs to whisper the following words, “Just so you wait, I’ll show you who you’ve always belonged to.”
Your mind practically goes blank after that. Jisung yanks your skirt higher with his free hand, exposing your lower body to him. He looks like a starving man, ready to devour you.
In an instant, he is dropping to his knees, lips attacking the insides of your thighs. 
The sensation is spreading through your whole body, just like the waves of the bass did earlier when they rushed through your heart.
Speaking of, your pulse is sprinting by now and it gets even more intense with the slow pace Jisung has set—trying to tease you as much as possible.
A few seconds later, he finally has mercy with you, as he slips down your underwear, leaving your pussy bare naked for him. Your arousal is glistening in the light of the LEDs and Jisung could just stare at you for hours, watch you squirm in anticipation, waiting for him to touch you, to pleasure you, to take you as he pleases.
You sense two fingers exposing you even further, when he spreads your pussy lips apart. A string of saliva hits you next, before Jisung finally brings his mouth into play—tongue colliding with your sensitive nub, he starts playing with your clit. His digits are teasing your entrance, smearing the mixture of your own liquids and his all over you.
“All mine, only mine, do you get that?”
Oh, fuck. Han Jisung is gonna be the death of you.
“Sung– touch me, please–“
You’ve never begged for anyone so easily in your whole life but with Jisung you don’t need to play hard to get, you can let go of all those curtains hiding your true inner self.
“What was that?”
That little brat. You’d scold him for it but—fairly speaking—this is incredibly hard when he’s drawing those circles all over your bundle of nerves, as he’s busy teasing your hole. You’re clenching around nothing and you’re sure he notices it.
“Fingers– inside– please.”
He lets out the evilest laugh you’ve ever heard, “Slut is already fucked out just from my tongue, hm?”
He wonders how he hasn’t lost his mind yet. Jisung’s cock is unbelievably hard—being neglected in his pants. He’s underestimated this whole situation a lot.
That’s how he justifies it, when he finally gives in. Two fingers are pushed into your wetness at once. You wince first, but Jisung makes sure to be gentle with you—prepping you for him, scissoring you open so that you’ll be ready to take him, soon.
He catches a glimpse of how you’re drowning out your angelic whimpers with the back of your hand. This is why he comes to a halt, stopping his actions.
“Baby, don’t hide, let everyone hear you, yeah?”
You nod, doing exactly as you’re told when he dives back in. Slurping sounds are filling the room, as Jisung moans against your heat. He’s pumping his fingers in and out of you, always making sure to keep his eyes fixated on your own.
You’ve lost control a long time ago. You’re not able to hold anything back, when it’s Jisung pleasuring you, guiding you towards your orgasm. Shaky legs are indicating you’re getting close, the same does your hand that has found his head, fingers entangled in the curls.
And then, the inevitable happens. Without a warning.
Your mind goes blank, as white sparkles fill your vision, while your body is brought to completion by none other than your best friend turned lover.
You struggle to catch your breath but Jisung helps you through your climax, slowing down when he feels you getting more and more sensitive.
Silence rules the room, until you look into each other’s eyes and both start giggling.
Well, you didn’t expect an orgasm to be on your birthday present list, but the night is getting better and better.
However, you feel as if Jisung should get something in return. First, he put hard work into the show tonight. Second, you should make up for the things you said yesterday. Third, you simply want to touch him, too, to find out what he tastes like, what he looks like when he shoots his seeds down your throat.
“I think you deserve a sweet little treat for the amazing show,” you whisper.
All that brat does is chuckle and get up, as he grabs you by the waist for another heated kiss. As you taste yourself on his tongue, you stand up from your seat, as you dress falls down again. Creating a pretty path down his jawline and neck, you help him out of his huge leather jacket first.
Jisung is quick to pull his shirt over his head as well, before he catches you staring at him for a little too long. He shuts the thoughts inside your head up by kissing you again, before he watches you fall down to your knees. In an instant, your hand wanders upwards to his crotch, as you start palming his straining erection through the fabric of his jeans.
“Get that thing off,” you order and Jisung instantly follows suit, jumping out of the pants.
You look at him with a mischievous smirk, as the man above you is impatiently waiting to be touched by you.
“Ready, baby?” you ask and all he does is nod.
You reach for the hem of his boxers next, sliding them down. His cock springs free, even harder and thicker than you would have imagined. Your hand immediately seizes around his length, as you start stroking him.
There’s something exciting adding to your dynamic when you realise that he’s fully naked and you’re almost entirely dressed—except for those panties that earlier ended up in the pocket of Jisung’s jeans.
“Baby, please, don’t make me wait any longer,” he begs.
“Well, how could I decline such a plea like that?”
A wink from you follows, before a long stripe of your tongue glides over his shaft.
Waves of pleasure are floating through his system, when you fully take him in. You always make sure to keep your eyes fixated on his, while you start bobbing your head up and down.
He’s getting more confident again, too. Jisung is sure to get the upper hand in this, especially, when he reaches for your hair, creating a makeshift ponytail to guide you just how he likes. It feels as if you’re made for this, as if you're made for him.
“Come on, I know you can take it,” he says, when he slowly starts bucking his hips into you.
The vibration those moans of yours send to his length are driving him insane but he’s the last one to complain. You’re getting sloppier, drooling all over his dick and you just let him enjoy the scene and view.
“Make a mess, baby,” Jisung encourages you.
Fuck. He is absolutely sure this is both the prettiest picture he’s ever laid his eyes on and the most beautiful sound his ears have ever witnessed.
This beats everything—the adrenaline rush he’s got from being on stage earlier is nothing compared to the sensation of your warm mouth hugging his cock.
His heartbeat starts echoing in his ears, when Jisung comes to the realisation of how fucking close he already is. No one has ever made him feel this way.
He feels himself almost twitching in your mouth but he knows that he doesn’t want to get his cum to waste—so, he pulls out, earning another pathetic whine from you.
Jisung helps you up and out of your dress. Since the bra was integrated in the fabric, he is now realising you’re bare naked underneath. He admires your figure for a minute too long, letting out a sighed ‘wow’.
And you just look at him. Patiently waiting like the good girl you are. Every cell of your body craves him. There’s no going back.
“I’ve never wanted someone to fuck me this badly,” you tell him and Jisung might cum at the spot.
You’re ready to be ruined by Jisung and he’d be an idiot to not take this chance that he’s been waiting for for years now.
“Wait, let me grab a condom real quick–“
Your hand wraps around his wrist, “I’m on the pill and I seriously can’t wait, please stay here.”
Jisung nods, more than excited that he’s about to feel you raw.
However, there’s no rush, really. At least that’s how that menace decides to tease you a little further. Another kiss gets placed on your lips, all slowly, all romantically—before he abruptly grabs you by the hips to turn you around.
You get bent over the table, legs parting again on their own. Jisung is squeezing your butt, his other hand busy aligning the tip of his throbbing cock with your aching cunt.
“Ready, baby?”
You hastily nod, failing to let out anything except for a loud ‘yes, please, hurry’.
So, Jisung pushes in, opting for a few centimetres at first to give you some time to adjust. Once you have given him a sign, he starts moving in and out of you. Caused by your wetness, squelching sounds are playing in the room, showing Jisung exactly who’s making you feel this damn good.
“Look at what a good slut you are– fuck, just for me, yeah?”
You nod again and again, upper body by now falling further, but he catches you, circling an arm around your throat from your front, adding the lightest pressure to the sides—but it’s mostly just to keep you in a certain position, so you can observe the two of you in the mirror.
“Look at youself, baby. Watch how I fuck you, watch what a whore you are for me.”
You do as you’re told, observing your smeared makeup and your eyes filling up with tears, while you allow Jisung to basically rail you into oblivion.
“Such a good girl, baby. You’re such a good girl. So tight for me.”
It’s clearly the softness in his voice and the roughness in the way he pounds his cock into you, that makes you oblige. The moans are blurting out of you, turning into the most beautiful melody of the night.
“Shh, look at me in the mirror, eyes on me, Y/N.”
Your gaze flickers towards Jisung’s reflection now and it’s the most beautiful view you’ve ever been granted. You’ve underestimated the effect all this has on him—but he’s nothing better, fucked out expression decorating his face, droplets of sweat lying on his forehead.
But when Jisung sees you looking at him, his possessive side takes over him once again.
“Who owns this tight little cunt?” he hums into your ear.
“You, Sung–“ Completely thoughtless, you give in, as you add, “Just– cum, please–“
He’s fast to bring two fingers between your legs, as he starts rubbing your clit. It doesn’t take him long to bring you to your second relief of the night, as Jisung watches you come undone for him.
A moment later, he pulls out of you, bringing himself to his climax, before thick white ropes of cum are colliding with your ass and lower back.
Jisung doesn’t hesitate to take care of you, as he cleans you and puts you into some sweatpants and a shirt of his.
Watching your still fragile figure, he reaches for your hand, “You’re gonna be my lucky charm from now on, hm? For every concert? Cheering for me, right in the first row, yeah?”
You chuckle.
“Under one condition.”
“Yeah?”
“You’ll bring me backstage every time and tell me more about your new song, Gemstone,” you say.
“I knew you would be my number one fan… the only one that truly matters.”
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❤️ AUTHOR'S NOTE: Just like last year, I am here to give a present to my readers on my own birthday hehe (a few days late this time). I hope you enjoyed the story! If that's the case, please consider reblogging and leaving a comment with your thoughts. There are really no limits, every kind sentence is highly appreciated. Thank you for considering this and happy libra season! Have a nice day and thank you for being here.
© j-0ne25 2023 | copying, translating or stealing my work is prohibited
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ellemj · 4 months
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Half-Tongue Rule: 12 Days of Smut #1
Bucky Barnes x Reader One-Shot
Summary: A little Asgardian liquor and a whole lot of tension leads to a teeny tiny bit of smut between you and a certain jealous super soldier.
Warnings: profanity, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, teasing, public teasing, jealous!Bucky, slight DUBCON if you consider it so, alcohol consumption, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!
Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings.
Word Count: 9k (I'm very sorry)
A/N: Thank you to @littlemiss-yeehaw for both catching my mistakes in writing and helping with warnings. She's the reason I don't give in to my daily urge to delete my whole blog lmao. Also, I apologize for this being an hour later than planned. It has been a day. This is just a lil baby smut but I think each day of this event will get filthier and filthier as I get closer to my favorite storylines.
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         You hate parties. You hate the amount of alcohol that people seem to need to consume just to enjoy each other’s company. You hate the way you feel obligated to stay for a certain length of time just to appease the host. You especially hate the way parties make it hard to even hear your own thoughts. Or maybe you just hate Tony Stark’s parties, specifically. His parties are classy, yet overly loud and hard to break away from when you’re ready to leave. However, you still accepted the Christmas party invitation that Pepper so kindly emailed you three weeks ago. It would’ve been too difficult to come up with a fake excuse for missing it when half of you live in the same building.
         So, that’s what led you here, taking the elevator up to the top floor of Stark Tower, standing with your back pressed against the cold metal wall as you listen to the chatter of the various SHIELD employees who piled into the elevator with you. The only familiar faces on the ride up are Sharon and Wanda. The three of you arrived together, but you know as soon as the elevator lets you out into the party, they’ll both disappear into the crowd to be social butterflies. Your dress is so thin that the cool temperature of the elevator wall sends a chill down your spine, making you regret having left your winter coat downstairs like everyone else.
         The sound of music playing through the speakers just a little way higher in the elevator shaft reaches your ears and you take a deep breath. You remind yourself that parties are supposed to be fun and that you put all of this effort into looking hot as fuck, you need to find a way to enjoy the night. You tell yourself to be free and have a little fun, not to hide away in a corner refusing to have even one drink, and not to rush out of here before it’s been at least an hour.
         When the elevator slows to a halt and starts filing out to join the lively, festive gathering ahead, your legs refuse to carry you forward. The lower half of your body hasn’t quite gotten the whole be free and have a little fun memo yet. Wanda shoots you a disapproving look paired with a small frown and shakes her head before reaching out and wrapping an arm around your waist. She pulls you along with her and suddenly, you’re immersed in Christmas music and Christmas cheer.
         “Don’t be a buzzkill. Have a few drinks for once and loosen up, you’re can be the life of the party when you’re a little drunk.” Wanda commands, ushering you a few steps further away from the elevator. You’re about to remind her that she’s only ever seen you drunk once, and that it’s been over a year since then, but as soon as her eyes land on Vision across the room, she’s gone. You find yourself standing alone in your little burgundy dress. You take a moment to let your eyes roam over the crowd, noticing how almost everyone is in black or navy. You see a couple of women in forest green dresses, and even one in a dress that’s as white as snow, but no one else is wearing the same color as you. Damn. That’ll make it a little harder to blend in in the corner.
         You let out a soft sigh before pushing your loosely curled hair back over your shoulder and turning to the left to head to the small bar. One drink. You can have one drink and pretend like you’re enjoying this before you make your great escape. Though the expansive room is quite crowded with people, the bar itself isn’t so bad. The bartender is quick to pass you your glass of whiskey neat as he shoots you a kind smile. You’re only one sip in when you notice the bartender’s eyes look past you, over your shoulder, at someone else. You await the inevitable approach of whoever it is that’s behind you as you savor the slight burn of the whiskey trickling down your throat.
         “You showed.” Sam’s voice rings out from behind you. He steps up to the bar and rests his elbows on it, standing a little to your left. You turn to face him and find him grinning from ear to ear. His infectious smile has always made you feel a little more at ease, and so you find yourself relaxing the tiniest bit in his presence. You lift the glass to your lips and take a second sip. Sam studies you while he waits for a beer, taking in your deep burgundy dress and your quiet demeanor. He knows parties aren’t your thing, but he also knows you can be more fun than just about anyone he’s ever met when you have a little bit of alcohol coursing through your veins. It’s not that you need to drink to be a fun person, but you keep yourself so reined in, so on task most of the time, that you forget to live. When you drink, you let yourself relax a little and your guard goes down just enough for you to have a good time without overthinking it. “Whiskey neat?” Sam asks, eyeing your drink of choice. You nod your head and drag your fingertip around the rim of your glass, glancing down at the amber-colored liquid.
         “I wanted to look mysterious and brooding. Holding a glass of whiskey makes a girl look mysterious and brooding, right?” You ask jokingly, giving Sam a small smile. He chuckles and stands up straight as the bartender presses a bottle of beer into his hand. He turns to fully face you now but his gaze continues to span across the room until it lands on a certain super soldier. Bucky stands tall beside one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, dressed in a well-fitted pair of black dress pants with an even better-fitted black button up adorning his torso. You take in the unusual sight of his vibranium arm on display. You’ve never seen him with his sleeves rolled up like this before. He looks a bit like a successful CEO of some company that earns him a few million dollars a year, especially with those gold accents in the crevices of his arm. You can’t seem to tear your gaze away from the man who you’ve been strategically avoiding at all costs.
         “If you want to look mysterious and brooding, you should talk to the cyborg over there. He has that look down pat.” Sam says with a laugh. He won’t say it to either of you out loud, but Sam thinks you and Bucky are so similar that you could’ve been cut from the same cloth. He knows people say that opposites attract, but he has to wonder if that’s always the case. To anyone else, it would seem like you and Bucky hate each other, even though you work together so seamlessly in the field. Sam has witnessed an odd sort of vibe between the two of you multiple times before, something that walks a very thin line between hatred and sexual tension. Neither of you have ever given Sam enough solid evidence that it’s anything besides a mutual dislike, but he can tell. He may not know just how right he is about the two of you, but he knows something is there.
As if Bucky could feel your eyes on him, he turns his head ever-so-slightly and meets your gaze. His blue eyes are always so piercing, seeing right through you and making you feel on edge for absolutely no reason. The moment he looked at you was the moment you should’ve put your drink down and switched to water for the rest of the evening. But when Thor arrived a few moments later, bearing the gift of Asgardian liquor, you decided to drink your demons away for one night.
---
         “What’s going on over there?” Sam’s question catches the attention of the small crowd of Avengers that are gathered around one end of the bar, as he points across the bar where you and Thor seem to be engaged in a more-than-friendly conversation. Sharon smiles deviously and Bucky’s jaw clenches, already hating where this is going.
         “Thor’s trying to close the deal with her. He gave her a little Asgardian liquor, and I think it’s going to pay off for him.” She explains, lifting her colorful drink to her lips and taking a long sip. Bucky watches you closely for a moment, picking up on the fact that you’re definitely past tipsy. Thor is seated on a barstool and you stand in front of him, laughing at something he’s just said as he smiles down at you. Bucky’s jaw clenches again when he sees you playfully rest a hand on Thor’s knee. Bucky would like to think that your hand is there for balance, but he knows that’s not what this is. Not at all. He scoffs and finishes off his own glass of whiskey.
         “It’s not going to pay off for him.” Bucky mumbles, trying to ignore the unfamiliar feeling that’s rising up in his chest. Jealousy. You wouldn’t go for a guy who’s shamelessly flirting with you after liquoring you up, just to get you into bed. You thrive off of banter, off of arguing with someone to the point of wanting to shut them up with your body. Bucky isn’t positive, but he’s fairly sure that he knows this about you. He picks up on the way you come alive when the two of you end up in a heated argument after a mission goes awry, he picks up on the way your frustration in the field brings about a different kind of tension between the two of you on the trips back to the compound. You aren’t the type to fall head over heels for a few compliments and a pretty face, even if the guy is a god. Thor would be too easy for you. And if Bucky has learned anything about you after butting heads with you for the past two months, it’s that you like a challenge more than anything.
         “It looks like it is.” Sam claims, pointing a finger in your direction now. Bucky looks again and sees Thor leaning in close to you, whispering something in your ear that makes your cheeks a little more pink. He catches himself squeezing his whiskey glass so hard that it might’ve shattered if he hadn’t released it onto the bar. Thor rises from the barstool, towering over you by at least a foot, shoots you a suggestive look, and then walks past you. Everyone watches as he heads straight for the elevator, making a quick exit from the party, everyone except Bucky. He’s focused on you as you turn your whole body to see Thor walk away. It’s clear that he’s daring you to follow him out, to run off somewhere for a late-night rendezvous, anyone can see that. Sam and Sharon have seemingly lost interest in the situation at hand and they quickly dive into their own conversation. Bucky continues watching you closely, his eyes narrowed and zoned in on you, as you finish off your drink and set your glass down on the bar. When you finally look back up, you look straight at him. As soon as your eyes meet his, he notices the way every muscle in your body tenses. Fuck it.
         His walk is confident, nearly cocky, and you can tell he’s seething. You watch him so carefully as he makes his way through the crowded room, noticing how everyone parts as soon as they see him coming. He’s clearly sporting a bit of a mood and no one here would dare be on the receiving end of that. As Bucky approaches you, his eyes bore into yours, with no trace of a smile or kind greeting to be found behind his blue eyes. You swallow hard, getting ready for one of his signature scoffs or briefly worded insults.
         “Bucky—” You start, ready to diffuse whatever argument your sometimes-field partner is about to begin with you. He doesn’t even slow down as he nearly barrels into you, his vibranium hand wrapping around your wrist, forcing you away from the bar. He turns you around roughly and pushes you in front of him, straight through a corner door that he’s throwing open with his right hand. Suddenly, you’re immersed in even dimmer lights as he closes the door behind him, effectively shutting the two of you off from the rest of the party. His grip on your wrist loosens and you can smell the soft tinge of the same whiskey you’ve been drinking tonight on his lips. The music is muffled in here and it helps you get ahold of your thoughts before you turn to face the little shit that dragged you in here against your will. When you turn around, Bucky stands still in front of the door, his vibranium hand uncharacteristically unobscured by any sort of glove. It gleams in the low light and distracts you for a brief second, before you look up at him.
         “What the hell, Bucky?” Your voice is raspy from the burn of the whiskey and Asgardian liquor. It feels a bit like you swallowed rocks, but the buzz it all gave you is worth it. As annoyed as you should be with Bucky right now for manhandling you like he’s anything but your occasional partner in the field, you can’t help but think about how fucking hot he looks tonight. His dark pants show off just how muscular his legs are, specifically his thighs. They also show off just how well-endowed he is in a different department, but you try hard not to think about that. Bucky catches you looking him up and down, unfortunately, as you’re not the slyest when you’ve been drinking liquor that works against even a super soldier’s metabolism.
         “Eyes up here, sweetheart.” His tone is patronizing, but his words send an all-too-familiar heat rushing between your legs. You instinctively listen to him, shifting your eyes up to meet his. His command felt almost lustful to you but his gaze is harsh. Maybe you just felt like it was lustful because you wanted it to be. You do tend to get a little horny when you’ve been drinking, and with the Asgardian buzz, everything starts to seem a little porny. You swallow, closing your mouth and waiting for the man to say anything else. He takes his time choosing his words, as he lets his eyes rake over your body just like your eyes raked over his a moment ago. He didn’t get a good enough look at your dress when you were all the way across the bar, but now he’s decided that he fucking hates it.
         “Bucky?” You prompt, tilting your head to the side, trying to get him to look in your eyes again. When he finally does, his gaze remains cold and harsh.
         “You showed up at a party just to get drunk and go home with Thor?” He questions, his tone both accusing and condescending. You scoff, taking a step backward and crossing your arms over your chest. This small action lifts your breasts and you notice Bucky’s eyes briefly lower to steal a glance. God. He wishes he’d found a darker closet to force you into.
         “Fuck you for that.” You spit back at him, narrowing your eyes and shooting daggers in his direction. He laughs lowly and watches as you wobble a bit on your heels, the buzz from the liquor developing into more of a state of drunkenness as your body struggles to metabolize it.
         “You would fuck me. You’d fuck anyone after drinking what he gave you.” Bucky tosses out the insult with ease, a cocky smirk painted on his face. You run your hands through your hair, wondering when the room started tilting to one side.
         “I wouldn’t fuck you, but anyone else maybe. What are we doing in here, James?” You ask, looking around the small, empty supply closet that you seem to be in. You take one step back and lean against the wall behind you for a little support. Bucky chuckles at the sight of you, making such an effort to fight off his insults and maintain your balance at the same time. He’s never really been around you when you’ve been drinking, and he finds it unbelievably amusing.
         “Are you lying to yourself or just to me?” His voice is lower now, a little quieter and a lot more charged with something. You want to say it’s charged with lust, but again, the porny haze might just be from your own point of view. However, Bucky is feeling that porny haze in the air as well. Hell, Bucky’s the one creating it. You push his question to the back of your mind, focusing on what you want to know. If he would just hurry up and tell you why he forced you into a damn supply closet, you could walk out of here and head downstairs to find Thor and start having some real fun.
         “Let’s try this one last time, what are we doing in here?” You repeat, pushing yourself away from the wall and stepping closer to him? You’re only a foot apart from each other now, and you can see him much better from this distance in the low lighting.
         “I’m keeping you from making a stupid decision.”
         “No, you’re kind of cockblocking, if you even know what that is.” You retort, rolling your eyes and turning to the left as you reach for the door handle. Bucky quickly reaches out with his flesh hand, wrapping his fingers around your wrist and forcing your arm away from the door. He doesn’t let go of your wrist this time.
         “You’re not sleeping with him.” He says firmly. You look down at where he’s gripping your wrist before looking back up at him, narrowing your eyes once more.
         “Why the hell do you think you get a vote?”
         “I’m not voting, I’m vetoing it. You’re drunk.”
         “I don’t need you to protect me, Barnes. Contrary to popular belief, I can take care of my damn self.” You snatch your hand away from him, thinking he’ll release his grip when you do, but he only tightens it and uses the leverage to pull you against him. Your chest crashes against his and you can feel his breath fan across your face. He smells like whiskey and light cologne, and his body heat emanates through his thin button-up shirt. A few less-than-holy thoughts speed through your mind. For a second, you worry he might be able to read your partially drunken thoughts with his intense stare. Bucky’s jaw clenches and he fights the urge to shove you against the wall and fuck you right here.
         “Then go home and take care of yourself instead of letting that jackass do it for you.”
         Did Bucky really just tell you to go home and get yourself off? You’re ninety-percent sure that that’s what he just alluded to. Okay, eighty-five percent sure since you’re not quite all there due to the obscene amount of alcohol you’ve consumed over the past hour. You feel a wave of heat spreading through your entire body, lighting your skin on fire. The point where Bucky’s hand is clasped around your wrist is especially on fire. You inhale a shaky breath, calming yourself down and trying to command your body to cooperate with you and cool down. Bucky smirks as he watches your attempt to gather yourself.
         “I got all dressed up and drunk for sex, Barnes. I’m not letting my effort go to waste.” Bucky’s eyes are saying so many things at once, but you can’t figure out a damn word of it in your current state. All you can think about is him pressing you up against the wall right now. Maybe he’d be a little pliant since he’s also downed a good amount of whiskey tonight, and since he clearly suddenly thinks that he has a say in your sex life. You feel your drunken confidence, your alter ego, coming out to play. You smile now, pressing your lips together and softening your gaze as you drink in the sight of his steely gaze and unreadable expression. “If I can’t have sex with Thor, are you going to tell me who I can have sex with tonight?” Your words take him by surprise and he recoils, dropping your wrist and stepping back. You feel powerful now, making him step away with only your words.
                  “You really should just go home, sleep it off.” He says, trying once again to steer you in a safe direction. It’s not so much that he’s trying to steer you in a safe direction, but more that he’s trying to keep himself from having a reason to pick a fight with Thor. He doesn’t want his hands on you. He’s not letting it happen.
         “I am so fucking tired of you always trying to protect me. What happened to the introverted ass who lived across the hall and skulked around the tower? He was way more bearable.”
         “You like me way more now.” He states, narrowing his eyes at you. You shake your head quickly.
         “You’re still an ass, but now you’re all confident and you know you’re hot and it’s unbearable.” You feel the regret as soon as the words leave your lips. You didn’t mean to say the part about him being hot. 
“You think I’m hot?” He asks. He’s intrigued now, that cocky smirk once again gracing his face. You shrug your shoulders, reaching for the door again. He lets you grab the handle this time but he places a strong, firm hand against the door, at the height of your face, stopping you from opening it. He steps in close, his chest nearly brushing against your right arm and side as he leans down to your ear. “Answer the question.” A chill races down your spine, forcing you to close your eyes and draw in a deep, calming breath. Why is he being so damn authoritative all of a sudden?
         “I’m drunk.”
         “Which just means that you have no filter. So, answer the question.” He keeps his hand firmly planted against the door and you know he won’t let you out of here until he gets his answer.
         “Yes.” You answer as nonchalantly as possible, turning your head to him. You’re a mere inch apart now, his lips hovering so teasingly in front of yours and his eyes staring into your soul.
         “You’re not leaving with him.” He states. His tongue darts out, licking his bottom lip and narrowly missing yours. You can’t stop yourself from looking at his lips, especially his bottom lip that’s now moistened right in front of you.
         “You can’t tell me what to do.” You slur your words, pushing your hands against his chest and forcing him back a couple of small steps. You march yourself out of the closet now, leaving him behind, but your mind still seems to be stuck on the image of his lips. You should’ve just kissed him. Who could have blamed you if you did kiss him? Asgardian liquor gives everything such a sexual energy for some reason.
         Bucky can’t stop himself from keeping a watchful eye on you for the rest of the party. After you got away from him, you headed off to dance and drink even more with Sharon. As long as you don’t sneak off to wherever Thor went, he really doesn’t give a shit what you do. Or maybe he does. He isn’t quite sure why he suddenly gives a shit. Why were you so set on having sex with someone tonight? And why did it seem like you didn’t even care who it was going to be? That doesn’t seem like you at all, having a meaningless one-night stand with whoever happens to be up for one.
         Bucky’s mind keeps mulling over the fact that you practically called him hot. Well, you said yes when he asked if you thought he was hot.  Maybe you’re more bold and honest when you’re drunk. Or maybe you’re just a liar when you’re drunk. Either way, Bucky can’t get it out of his head.
         “Yo, cyborg, you in there?” Sam waves his arm in the air, drawing Bucky’s attention out of his thoughts and back to the present conversation.
         “What?”
         “Which one of us is going to offer the girls a ride home? They’re both way too drunk to drive.” Sam asks. Bucky scoffs. Like you’ll accept a ride from either one of them with how independent you try to be and how especially stubborn you’re already being tonight. Sam distracted Bucky just for a moment, so he didn’t notice you and Sharon heading over to join the group in the sitting area of the lavish room.
         As they round the side of the couch, Sharon takes the only space on the couch between Sam and Clint, leaving you to stand beside the couch, steadying yourself on the arm of it.
         “We were just talking about you two.” Sam says to you both with a grin, glancing at Sharon first and then up at you. Bucky notices you trying a little too hard to remain in a steady and upright position, but he knows if he stands up and offers you his chair, you’ll absolutely refuse to take it.
         “Are you going back to the tower tonight, Y/n?” Clint wonders aloud, focusing his eyes on you. Bucky can tell that Clint also notices your unusual difficulty with balance, but he doesn’t seem very concerned. Clint’s seen her drunk before, so he’s actually used to this side of you. You laugh and shake your head, your curls softer and looser than when Bucky first saw you a little while ago.
         “No way, I’m staying with Sharon tonight.” You answer. You looks down at her feet for a brief second and Bucky can tell it’s because your heels are hurting your feet, but you’re not the kind of girl to take your shoes off and walk around barefoot in public.
         “Come on, you can’t both be on your own this drunk.” Clint argues, looking to Bucky and Sam for support. Sam catches his drift and takes on a slightly more serious expression before looking up at you. You shake your head once again, rolling your eyes before turning your head and narrowing them at Bucky.
         “I wouldn’t even be going home with Sharon if Sergeant Barnes over here hadn’t made me miss my chance with someone.” You say coldly, your eyes once again shooting daggers at Bucky. Sam and Clint turn their attention to Bucky now, and Sharon lets out a hearty laugh.
         “Yeah, I heard you vetoed her potential one-night stand.” Sharon’s voice is full of amusement.
         “I did you a favor.” Bucky scoffs, returning your hard stare with one of his own. You saunter over to him now, maintaining your balance well enough to seat your pretty little ass on the arm of the chair he’s in. You cross your legs at the knee, causing your already short dress to ride even further up your thighs. Bucky’s vibranium hand that rests on the arm of the chair is only inches behind your ass. He forces himself to look past you, at Sam, who is clearly very entertained by this whole situation.
         “Sam, is cockblocking ever a favor?” You ask, seeking validation for your little tantrum over Bucky stopping you from leaving with Thor. Sam shakes his head, looking up at you with a joking frown.
         “Never. Friends don’t stop friends from getting theirs.” Sam answers, shooting Bucky another look. He’s implying to Bucky that you and him must not simply be friends if he stopped you from sleeping with Thor tonight. You clap your hands together once before pushing yourself off of his chair and taking two steps toward the couch, you turn yourself effortlessly and take a seat on Sam’s right knee, which doesn’t even seem to faze him. Bucky watches as Sam places a hand on your back to keep you steadied there. His jaw clenches and his vibranium hand coils into a fist.
         “See, Bucky, you’ll have to make it up to me.” Your tone can only be described as flirty and suggestive, but only Sam and Bucky seem to pick up on it. Sam raises an eyebrow at the seething super soldier, awaiting his response. He cocks his head to the side, thinking of a way to play this smart.
         “Next time Fury pits us against each other in training…” Bucky starts, leaning forward in the chair and resting his elbows on his knees before continuing. “I’ll let you win.”
         “No thanks, I kicked your ass last time. I don’t need you to let me win.” You narrow your eyes at him once again, before turning to Sam, Sharon, and Clint. “Sam remembers that, right Sam?” Sam nods vigorously, a smile creeping across his face as the memory plays through his head.
         “I would’ve loved to have seen it.” Sharon pipes up, leaning against Sam’s shoulder now. Damn, he’s looking like he’s such a ladies’ man tonight. Bucky considers taking a picture for him so the memory lasts. Wanda and Vision join the group, Wanda perching herself on the armrest next to Clint’s side of the couch and Vision standing beside her, keeping a hand on her back. “Oh, I have the best idea.” Sharon suddenly sounds like a child, and she’s clearly about to say something ridiculously stupid. “We should play truth or dare.”
---
                  “If we’re doing this, we’re doing this the fair way.” Sam asserts. Clint quickly took his leave before the game was agreed upon, claiming that it was already way past his bedtime and he had to check in with his wife and kids over the phone before they all fall asleep. Wanda and Vision filled his vacant spot on the couch.
You feel the effects of the alcohol that you consumed earlier slowly making its way through your system and losing its potency as it’s metabolized. You still feel a good bit of drunkenness from the Asgardian liquor, and you really wonder how long that will take to clear your system. “We alternate between truth and dare, spinning the bottle to pick who takes the turn.” Sam places an empty beer bottle on the coffee table before us all, his hand briefly leaving your back when he leans forward to do so. As he rests back against the couch again, his hand finds its way to your middle back again. Sitting on his knee like this is starting to make it feel like your ass is falling asleep, and if your ass is falling asleep then your legs won’t be far behind.
         “Truth.” Sharon calls out for the first turn, reaching out to spin the bottle and get the game going. You stand up from Sam’s knee and switch to sitting on the floor on your knees. Your dress is sitting dangerously high on your thighs now. You glance around the circle at everyone. Sam, Sharon, Wanda, Vision, and Torres, who joined when Clint left, all keep their eyes trained on the spinning bottle. Bucky, however, is looking right at you. He probably wishes you would’ve gone home and taken care of yourself like he told you to earlier. What a jackass. The bottle slows to a stop, the lip of it pointing at Wanda. “Wanda!” Sharon yells out, excited by her first victim. “Does Vision have a dick?” The question sends the group into an uproar, but Wanda only laughs.
         “Yes.” She answers, keeping it short and simple.
         “Are follow-up questions allowed?” Sharon quickly asks, turning to look at Sam.
         “Only if the bottle lands on that person again and it’s a turn for truth.” He clarifies. Sharon scoffs, rolling her eyes.
         “That’s no fun at all.” She complains. You watch as Wanda leans into Vision’s ear and whispers something, something that makes him smile and nuzzle against her cheek ever so slightly. God, they’re sickeningly adorable. Wanda breaks away from him for a moment to spin the bottle, calling out dare as it begins to spin. Of course, it lands on you.
         “Wanda, we’re friends.” You remind her. You doubt she would make you do anything too crazy, knowing her, but if she’s been drinking and isn’t her normal self tonight, she might be a little adventurous. Mischief gleams behind her eyes and you know you’re in trouble. This game is starting to feel a bit sobering.
         “I dare you to sit on Bucky’s lap for the rest of the game.”
         “Wanda!” You yell out, an annoyed tone to your voice and a glare painted across your face. “That has to be against the rules. What if he doesn’t want to participate?” You try to talk your way out of it, looking to Sam now since he seems to be in charge of the rules here. He thinks for a second, looking at you and then up at Bucky. Bucky’s expression is stoic, as unreadable as ever as he stares back at Sam.
         “I’ll allow it.” Sam decides, smirking at Bucky. You groan, pushing yourself up from the floor but refusing to make eye contact with Bucky. You move a few steps toward him and sit on his knee, just like you sat on Sam’s earlier.
         “Oh, no. That’s not his lap.” Wanda points out, waving her hand at you, gesturing for you to move in closer to his body.
         “Fuck you, Wanda.” You say evenly, before fully sitting on Bucky’s lap as he straightens up in the chair a bit. You’re basically sitting right on his crotch, and slightly to his left so his vibranium arm is sitting on the armrest behind your back. You feel him take a deep breath and his exhale fans across your right arm. You avoid turning to look at him. The more you think about it, you’re still really annoyed that he felt like he could tell you not to sleep with someone tonight. You’re even more annoyed with yourself for listening. You should have just kept your original plan and left with Thor. You offer Wanda one last glare, making her laugh and lean closer into Vision. She mouths the words get over it before drawing a heart in the air with her fingers, her way of apologizing to you and saying it isn’t that serious. You know it’s not that serious but you also know what she’s doing. She thinks if you’d just hook up with him once, Bucky and you would get rid of whatever tension is between you and you could be regular partners in the field, as casual and unproblematic as when you work with Clint or Sam. But this isn’t some movie where the two main characters fuck their feelings away and stay friends in the end, hell, there aren’t even any feelings to fuck away here. You’re still barely even friends. You just work together.
         You lean forward in Bucky’s lap, away from his body, and spin the bottle, calling out truth before leaning back again. You lean a little too far back, your balance still not perfect due to the alcohol coursing through your veins. The exposed skin of your back in your low-cut dress brushes against his left chest and vibranium arm and his cold metal hand quickly slips behind you, resting on the skin of your back and steadying you. He clearly doesn’t want you sitting any closer than you have to for this dare. Once you’re steady, you expect him to put his hand back on the armrest of the chair, but he doesn’t. He keeps it firmly planted on your back, his vibranium fingers reflecting your body heat and warming up ever-so-slightly. You find the touch comforting and you feel yourself relaxing a little bit. This definitely beats sitting on the floor.
         “Sharon!” Sam hollers, tapping her knee that’s closest to him on the couch and then clapping his hands excitedly. “This is going to be good. What do you want to know about her, Y/n?” The bottle points straight at her, and she seems more than ready for whatever you might ask. You think for a moment, with everyone’s attention focused on you, expecting you to come up with something good.
         “Was Steve a good kisser?” Bucky lets out a quiet, low chuckle at your question. You can tell he’s trying to seem like he’s not overly enjoying this game, but you know he’s getting at least a little kick out of it. His hand is still on your back and you don’t think he plans to move it anytime soon. You focus on it a little too much, noticing the way his pinky finger rests lightly just an inch above your ass.
         “Yeah, he knew what he was doing, that’s for sure. You never would’ve known he hadn’t had any real practice in the last few decades.” She admits. She’s not even trying to hide her smile as the memory of Steve comes to the forefront of her mind. “You know how sometimes guys either do too much with their tongue, or not enough?” You and Wanda both nod, while the four men in the group look on at you, obviously intrigued by the topic. “He did exactly enough.”
         “Wow, who taught him the half-tongue rule?” Wanda questions jokingly.
         “The half-tongue rule?” Torres sounds genuinely curious. He can be so adorable sometimes, so clueless for someone so unbelievably smart.
         “For a good makeout session, you should never put more than half of your tongue in the other person’s mouth.” Sharon explains. Torres nods as she explains, as if he’s absorbing the information and storing it for later use. “Okay, this one is going to be good.” Sharon announces, her eyes darting around the group for her next victim as she sends the bottle into a rotation. You get distracted for a moment when Bucky’s vibranium thumb rubs a small circle against your lower back, so softly that you question if it’s even happening.
         “White Wolf…” Sharon tsks. A look that you can only describe as evil takes over her features and she grins as she stares Bucky down. You didn’t notice that the bottle landed on him at first. He continues rubbing those small circles with his thumb and you’re really wondering what the hell he’s doing, but you don’t want to draw attention to it. “I dare you to demonstrate the half-tongue rule with your partner there.” Sharon points right at me. You swallow hard and shake your head, but you can feel Bucky’s lack of any reaction behind you. He doesn’t so much as take a deep breath or shift in his seat at the threat of the dare.
         “Wait, what are the stakes if they don’t?” Vision asks, looking around the group for an answer.
         “You have to answer three truths in a row, hard ones.” Sharon decides, looking to Sam for approval and he nods quickly. You see him shoot Bucky a look, you can’t tell what it is but it’s insinuating something. He knows Bucky would refuse to answer three hard questions about himself, so it’s way less likely that he’ll refuse a dare.
         “And what if the person the dare involves refuses to participate?” Wanda asks, smiling at you with fake sweetness. You see what she’s doing and you’re mentally kicking her for it. She wants to know what punishment you’ll face if you refuse to let Bucky complete this dare with you.
         “Same thing, I guess.” Sam answers quickly. You don’t have a problem with answering truths, but with the direction Sharon and Wanda have been taking this game, it might be a dangerous thing to get yourself into. Who knows what they would ask at this point?
         “So? Are you guys going to demonstrate the half-tongue rule or can we ask you both three questions?” Sharon prompts, her eyes flitting between you both. You finally turn and look at Bucky, but as your ass moves against his lap slightly, he presses his vibranium hand flat against your lower back, attempting to still you. He looks up at you, his eyes searching yours to see what your answer will be.
         “Come on, we’ve all seen you kiss on undercover ops before, it’s just like that.” Wanda chimes in, trying to get the group what they want. You tune her out, waiting for Bucky to speak up and say he won’t do it, that this is childish and silly and you’re all adults. You know you’re in trouble when he cocks his head to the right and his lips curl into that smirk that you’ve grown so used to seeing on him.
         “Why aren’t you backing down from this?” You ask quietly so only he can hear you. Everyone is staring at you, anticipating either a kiss or a white flag of surrender.
         “Why aren’t you?” He licks his bottom lip and for the second time tonight, you think about how much you want that lip pressed between your own. Fuck Thor for giving you that drink.
         You honestly couldn’t say who started it. You couldn’t say how long it lasted. But when you leaned into him and his left hand found it’s place on your hip while his right snaked up to your hair and pulled your face against his, you were lost in the moment. His lips moved against yours like it was a dance, something spontaneous and straight out of a movie, your heads tilting in opposite directions to give each other exactly enough leverage and access. His tongue swept across your bottom lip, waiting for you to part your lips and grant access. You hesitated, just for a second, but he noticed it and tugged on your hair, making you open your mouth just slightly, just enough for him to slip his tongue in and caress your own. Fuck, he tasted so good, like whiskey and lust and everything you wore this dress for tonight. Your entire body feels like it’s sparking with electricity everywhere that he’s touching you, where your ass is against his lap, where his hand is on your hip, where his hand is tangled in your hair. You sit now, still in the position you just kissed in, but with only your foreheads pressed together, your mouths inhaling and exhaling within an inch each other. He's probably breathing heavy from the effort and lack of air but you’re breathing heavy from the fucking horny tailspin he’s just sent your body into. It’s taking everything in you not to ask him for more.
         “Holy shit, that was porn.” Torres says, sounding both impressed and surprised.
         “How do two people who barely get along kiss each other like that?” Sam demands to know, and you can feel his stare boring into the back of your head.
         “You remember what we all do for a living, right Sam?” You ask, pulling away from Bucky’s embrace and turning back around to face the rest of the group. You get more comfortable now, leaning against Bucky as he stretches his arms out on both of the armrests and sinks into the chair a bit. You’re both more at ease now, as if the kiss melted away some of the tension. The group raves over the kiss, and what they think was chemistry, rather than simply two experienced operatives who happen to be good kissers being forced into a situation together. Bucky, ready for the moment to be over with, grabs your left hip with his vibranium hand to hold you steady as he leans forward and spins the bottle. The shift in position reveals something, or more makes you feel something. His hard cock pressing against your right thigh. You turn your head to look down at him as he’s leaning back in the chair again and he makes eye contact with you, his smirk from earlier gone and his expression once again one of indifference. God, he’s really fucking good at acting like nothing fazes him.
         “Sam, tell us about your last date.” Bucky says, his eyes still locked on yours. He must’ve seen the bottle spin to a stop in his peripheral vision. As Sam reluctantly begins to tell his tale, capturing everyone’s attention but yours and Bucky’s, you turn to the group once more and lean against Bucky again.
         “Something in your pocket?” You question jokingly under your breath, still feeling his boner present underneath you.
         “Stop talking.” He responds just as quietly, his tone sending a chill through your body. Why is it so fucking hot when he talks to you like that? It should infuriate you, the way he warns you and acts so demanding and in charge. Instead, all you can think about is him talking to you like that in bed. You swear, after tonight, you’ll never touch Asgardian liquor again.
         The game continued on for another half an hour before the party began dwindling down until only about twenty or so guests were left. You still sit comfortably on Bucky’s lap, his dick as hard as it was when you kissed earlier, and yourself no less inebriated than you were then.
         You shift on his lap, a little worried that you might be putting his left leg to sleep. Suddenly, you feel his hands on both of your hips, gripping you tightly and stilling you instantly. The room is still fairly dark and noisy with the music and drunken conversations that are being held all around, so you doubt anyone will notice his sudden shift in position.
         “Don’t move.” He groans lowly in your ear, leaning forward so his chest presses firmly against your back. You stiffen against him, your eyes closing for a second as his voice and touch once again send your senses into overdrive. The game ended five minutes ago, so you should really get off of his lap now. Your phone, which currently sits on the coffee table in front of you vibrates and as Bucky sits back in the chair again, you let out the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. You know he heard your phone vibrate, so hopefully he doesn’t mind you leaning forward to grab it.
Sharon: Are you staying with me tonight or going back to the tower?
         “You’re staying in the tower.” Bucky says, clearly reading the message over your shoulder. You push yourself out of his lap now, turning around to face him as he adjusts his suit pants and sits up a little straighter to hide the situation going on in his pants.
         “That’s the second time tonight that you’ve tried to make decisions for me.” You point out, staring down at him. Really, who does he think he is? He’s always seemed overly confident to you, but trying to tell you who you can’t sleep with and now where you’re spending your night? He’s crossing lines left and right. You watch him carefully from a short distance as his gaze follows Sam and Sharon, who are saying goodbye to a few friends near the elevator. Sam offered to drive Sharon home, since she definitely can’t be trusted to get herself there safely.
         “You listened to me the first time.” Bucky says confidently, shifting his gaze back to you now, but keeping a serious expression on his face rather than the playful, cocky one that you know so well on him.
         “Did I? Because I remember you telling me to go home and take care of myself, and I haven’t done that.” You glance down at your phone to text Sharon back while you wait for whatever smart ass reply Bucky is going to spew out next. You’re just about to text her and say that you’d love to have a sleepover when you hear Bucky’s low, sure-of-himself laugh. You look at him once more, your thumbs hovering over your phone screen. The way he looks in that chair, with that fucking smirk slowly taking over his features, makes you rethink what you were about to say to Sharon.
         “Yet.”
---
         Everything smells like him. And why wouldn’t it? You’re in his room, lying on his bed, with him standing just a few feet from the foot of the bed, his eyes roaming over every inch of your body. You still have your dress on but you feel naked in front of him like this.
         “Are you getting shy on me now?” Bucky taunts, mischief gleaming behind his eyes as he takes in your timid expression and flushed cheeks. Sam chose to drive Sharon all the way back to her apartment across town, while Bucky quickly stepped up to give you a ride back to the tower. Somehow, along the way, the truth or dare game continued until you ended up accepting a dare to do exactly what Bucky said, to go home and take care of yourself. However, the dare came with a new stipulation: you had to take care of yourself while he watched.
         “Yeah, I’m shy.” You respond sarcastically, pushing yourself off of his bed and trekking across the room to stand immediately in front of him. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he hopes the stance hides the racing of his heart from you. The stance most definitely doesn’t hide the raging boner straining against the front of his dress pants though. There probably isn’t a pair of pants in the world that could hide something so prominent. You stand close to Bucky, breathing in his intoxicating scent for a moment before closing your eyes and letting a serene smile cross your lips.
         Bucky stands frozen when you begin slipping the straps of your dress down your shoulders. The muscle along the side of his jaw ticks as he clenches his teeth together when you reach back and easily unzip your dress. And when you finally let the small piece of burgundy fabric fall the the floor? Hell, he’s done for.
         You open your eyes once you’re fully exposed to him, peering up at him with the most innocent look you can muster.
         “Fuck this.” Bucky grumbles, losing every ounce of self-control he was harnessing as his hands grasp the sides of your face and he kisses you with so much desperation that you feel something awaken inside you. He uses the same move from earlier, tugging on the hair at the nape of your neck to get you to part your lips enough for him to taste your mouth. Fuck, you taste like his favorite whiskey. Your body moves on auto-pilot as Bucky walks you backward until the backs of your knees hit the mattress. With a less-than-gentle shove, Bucky sends you falling onto his bed. His hungry eyes travel all over your skin, over the perfect peaks of your breasts, the smooth skin along your abdomen that leads him straight down to what he needs most right now. Your cunt.
         The way he’s looking at you can only be described in one way: animalistic. You’re sure he’s going to be back on top of you within seconds, but no, this fucking man sinks to his knees on the floor at the foot of the bed. He effortlessly lifts your legs over his shoulders, and then leans into you, kissing your clit so softly that you whimper.  With all of the tension between the two of you tonight, you wouldn’t have expected him to be so gentle.
         “You taste so fucking good.” Bucky groans against your folds, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses all the way down until he reaches your entrance. That’s when he stops being so gentle. That’s when he steals a glance at you, taking in the way your chest heaves with arousal and the way your hands are already gripping his bedsheets. That’s when he can’t stop himself from plunging two thick fingers into you and curling them, letting his fingertips drag against the walls of your pussy.
         “Bucky!” You cry out, your back arching off the bed and thighs shaking over his shoulders.
         “You could’ve taken care of yourself.” He reminds you, setting a relentless pace with his hand. He fucks those two fingers in and out, in and out, in and out. Every move he makes ignites your nerve endings more and more, until your nervous system is nearing a damn firework show. “You could’ve laid here and gotten yourself off for me.”
         The moans and curses falling from your lips are nothing short of sinful, and every sound sends another rush of blood straight to Bucky’s already-hard cock.
         “You’re so fucking stubborn. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You wanted to end up in my bed tonight.” His voice is dripping with lust and you can almost hear the smirk that’s surely painted across his face as you come undone at his hands.
         “Bucky…” You can’t say a damn thing except for his name. Even as he finger fucks you straight through your orgasm, and starts slowing down his movements, you can’t form a single word in your mind.
         “Look at you.” Bucky coos, sliding his fingers out of your pussy one last time. You’re lying there so still with your eyes still scrunched closed. You completely miss the way Bucky closes his own eyes as his sucks the taste of you off of his fingers. He knows he should’ve held you to the dare and made you get yourself off. He never should’ve tasted you. He never should’ve felt how tight and wet your pussy is for him.
Now that he knows how sweet you taste, how nicely your pussy would fit around his cock, how fucking perfect you sound when you’re cumming for him, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to let you leave his room. 
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cbini · 7 months
Text
make your move, set me free
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pairing: lee minho x afab!reader
warnings: smut🔞!!!!!!!!, monster in the closet!minho, childhood friends to lovers but with a twist!, time jumps, like .2 seconds of mentioned jealousy, light angst, masturbation (f), voyeurism, unprotected sex, minho’s ribbed monster dick, horn sucking (???? you’ll know when u get there), horn rubbing (again, ???), monster creampie!
note: here he is! sorry it took so long, but life has been kicking my ass lately lmao. if this is bad….. just shhhh for my well-being. anyways, i do hope you enjoy!!! also just as an fyi… minho’s dick is shaped like the bad dragon sleipnir :-) also also let it also be known that idk what the hell he is like he’s just a thing i just made up shit really
the first time you met lee minho, you were six years old.
met is a strong word, considering the fact that you were laid shivering and scared in your bed at three in the morning. you always slept through the night, but recently you’d been continuously woken up at odd hours due to the noises coming from your closet.
it started with the creak of your closet door. you opened your eyes and rolled onto your back to reach for your teddy bear that you must have lost during the night. it wasn’t until you were about to fall back to sleep that you heard what must have woken you up in the first place. your head perked up from your pillow at the sound of your closet door slowly creaking open. you stopped breathing, gripping your teddy bear close to your chest as your heart pounds.
you don’t hear the noise again for a few minutes. maybe it was just the air conditioner? sometimes it makes weird noises, and your mom always complains about it. your head settles back onto the pillow when you hear it again, this time, with a whispered call of your name.
you can’t help but gasp, chest heating up as your heart pounds faster. you sit up in your bed before you can stop yourself, staring directly at your half opened closet. why did your parents have to put your bed right there? directly in front of the closet. your mom always makes sure the door is shut before she leaves your room to go to bed; you definitely didn’t open it, but somehow the pitch black interior of the closet is looking right back at you.
your eyes are adjusting to the dark now. the nightlight in the corner helps you to see, but it doesn’t provide enough light for you to see inside the closet. you can’t make out the shape of your clothes or shoes… you can’t see anything.
until you see red.
glowing red. two bright red eyes turn themselves into three and make themselves known to you, and that’s all it takes for you to scream.
“m-mommy!” you shriek, pulling the covers over your head and hiding your face against the plush of your teddy bear. you stay hidden until the light clicks on, and you feel your mother’s warm arms wrap around you. you slowly lift your head from under the blankets and look up at her with teary eyes. she coos and wipes your tears, soothing down your wild hair.
“what’s wrong, sweetheart? did you have a bad dream?”
“mommy, shhh,” you bring a finger to your lips to quiet her. “there’s- there’s a monster in- in there. in my closet,” you whisper, pointing a finger conspiratorially at your now closed closet door. did your mom close the closet door when she came in?
“is there?” she asks back. you nod. “i know just what to do. can you be brave and wait here while i go get something?” you really don’t know, but your parents’ room is right down the hall. you finally nod your head again, and your mom plants a kiss to your hair before she scurries out of the room. your eyes stay locked on the closet door until she comes back with a spray bottle in her hand. she sits down beside you on your bed.
“i’ve been hoping i wouldn’t have to use this,” she sighs, showing you the bottle. “here, it’s monster spray. i got it from the store a couple weeks ago just in case. see! it,” she turns the bottle around to read from the back, “‘repels monsters, ghosts, goblins, and other scary creatures away in one use!’”
huh, that might be able to work. she stands up from the bed and makes her way to the closet.
“be careful mommy,” you whisper, gripping the blanket tighter in your hand. she takes a deep breath and cracks open the door, immediately shoving her hand inside to spray around. once she’s done, she shuts the door again.
“it says we have to give it ten seconds to activate. can you count for me?” you start counting as soon as she asks, going up to twenty for good measure. “that should definitely work. okay, sit back. let mommy check.”
your mom once again opens the closet door, this time fully, and she gasps. you gasp in response. there’s nothing in there; that must mean the spray worked! she moves your clothes this way and that, double checking to make sure it’s safe.
“i don’t see anything in there, do you?” she asks. you shake your head. whatever that was, it’s gone. your closet is back to normal. all you see are your clothes and shoes plus a couple of your winter clothes on the top shelf.
“you killed it! it really worked!” you cry, climbing out of bed to hug your mom tight. “can i- can i sleep in your room tonight? in case it comes back…”
“of course you can, sweetie, but here.” she hands you the spray. monster masher. “you keep this in here, okay? so the next time you see a monster, you know what to do. you can always call me for backup if you need.”
the next night, you’re still scared. it happens just like it did the night before, but this time you have the trusty monster masher on your nightstand. you hear the closet creak open and hold your breath, making up your mind that you’re not going to call for your mom this time. you’re big; you can do this. at the first whisper of your name is when you decide to slowly reach for the bottle, hoping that whatever is in your closet won’t see you.
you slowly slip from the bed, sticking close to the wall and tiptoeing to the closet. your hand is shaking where you grip onto the spray bottle. you’re sticking close to the door hoping that whatever is inside can’t see you from the side. you take a deep breath just like your mom did last time, steady your hand, and reach it into the mouth of the closet to spray as fast as you can.
you don’t want something to grab you and snatch you inside, so you quickly pull your hand from the closet and shut the door, remembering the instructions your mom told you and counting to ten. fifteen for good measure.
the first thing you hear is sputtering from the inside. you run to your light switch and turn it on before opening the closet door, and what’s inside surprises you.
it’s a boy, knelt on the ground and scrubbing his tongue with the sleeve of his shirt. he’s no ordinary boy though, you can tell.
at first, you notice the light purple hue to his skin. his eyes are a deep black; there are three of them, and tiny horns sprout from the tip top of his head. he looks a little fuzzy too, and definitely not as scary as he did in the dark.
“ack!” the boy cries, still swiping at his tongue. “wha’ i’that?!” you spritz him again and he flails, slapping the bottle away from you. “hey, stop it! i’m not a bug.” he finally sits up straight and glares at you, and his eyes flare bright red.
you gasp at that, taking a step backwards and tripping over a toy you left on the floor in front of your bed. you land with an oof!, cradling your wrist after you land on it hard. the boy scoots out of the closet and points to your hand.
“are you- are you okay?”
“please don’t eat me!”
he glares at you again. “if i wanted to eat you i woulda already.”
and that is history.
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at sixteen, you’re still dealing with the monster in your closet. you’ve learned many things about him in the ten years he’s inhabited your space.
his name’s minho, he’s your age, and you’re his assigned human. that sounds stupid. you didn’t believe him at first, but he showed you the paperwork. where you go, minho will follow. his assignment to you is a serious one.
after those fateful nights all those years ago, you’ve surprisingly become quite good friends. you’ve had plenty of time to get to know each other. after all, he’s in your closet every night. he can come and go as he pleases and you can send him away, back to whatever monster realm he came from, but he always comes back. he’s gone to and from on his own free will, you’ve never had the urge or need to send him away.
one thing you’ve never been able to piece together though is what lee minho actually is. minho’s told you before that he doesn’t even really know himself. he’s more of a… thing. kind of like those mutt dogs, but he’s a monster instead. you’ve looked on all types of websites. blogs, forums, encyclopedia pages, but you could never find any answers to quell your curiosity. it’s okay though, however nosy you are doesn’t change the fact that one of your closest friends is a monster that halfway lives in your closet.
speaking of friends, one of yours inhabiting your room right now.
it’s not that minho’s jealous, he has other friends of his own. like changbin, a short and bulky zombie who clicks and chomps his teeth whenever he’s hungry and has a too-loud laugh. or chan, a werewolf with kind eyes and a tail that wags way too hard when he’s happy. you’re definitely not his only friend, but he doesn’t like when you have sleepovers with yours. and no, not just because you talk about your stupid crushes.
you’ve been sitting on your bed for the past hour, chitchatting about some wooyoung character that your friend thinks you’d look super cute with.
minho rolls his eyes, resisting the urge to thunk his head back against the wall of your closet. his horns have hit a growth spurt though recently, and he knows he’d put a hole in your wall by accident if he did. the final straw for minho is when you both lay down to sleep.
“would you go out with him if he asks you?” your friend questions, propping herself up on her elbow to look at you one last time before you both go to sleep. minho straightens up at that. he strains forward, as close to the closet door as he can get without bumping into it with his horns, and listens for your response.
“i- i mean, i dunno? maybe? i’d have to think about it, i guess,” you say. minho makes a face. his lip curls slightly in disgust, and the soft peach fuzz on his body bristles at your answer. that’s it, he’s heard enough. he’ll just have to wait until you fall asleep.
much to minho’s pleasure, it doesn’t take too much longer.
he starts his typical routine when he focuses and hears the evenness of your breath and your friend’s. it’s always a crack of the door. minho sits up on his knees and places one finger to the door, pushing it open slightly and reveling in the creak of the old wood. he knows you’ll wake up soon, he’s just not sure about your talkative and annoying friend. he gives the old door one more slow push, and it creaks again.
he’s a little disappointed in how used to him you’ve gotten because you barely even roll over at the noise of the closet door slowly opening. the same cannot be said for your friend, however. minho smirks as he hears her breathing catch in her throat and heart rate pick up. now that he knows she’s awake, minho’s about to enact the next step in his routine. come to think of it though, he doesn’t really remember her name.
instead of whispering her name in the dark like he usually would, he decides on the next best thing.
he whistles.
it’s a slow thing, starting out high pitched and ending on a lower tone, and minho has to try hard to keep from laughing when he sees her head whip to the closet.
still whistling that haunting little tune, minho creaks the closet door open once more and moves his head closer to the opening of it, finally allowing himself to let his eyes shine ruby-red. the rest of his body is hidden by the darkness of your room, but he knows that his eyes are visible.
minho hears your friend shake you awake and cover your mouth.
“oh my god, i think- someone’s in your fucking closet,” she whispers, head turning back to the closet and met with glowing red.
“oh jesus christ,” comes your muffled response. you fling the covers back and march over to your closet, hitting your light switch on the way there. you open the door and shove your clothes to the side, hangers screeching on their rack, dutifully smothering minho with your clothes and pushing him to the corner. he flails and his horns clatter against the wall.
“shit, haha- um! sorry, my boots fell. there’s- there’s nothing in here, see? look.” you move out of the way, showing your friend the inside of your closet. you shuffle through your clothes so that she can see the back. hidden by the wall, minho peaks around his face-full of clothes and stifles his laugh when he sees you do jazz hands at your friend. you catch sight of him and once again roughly shove your clothes back into his face and he flips you off.
“no, i swear. i swear i saw something glowing in there! and- and i heard whistling?”
“oh, i have a, um. jacket! a jacket… with sequins on it? you know what i mean? sometimes it catches the light from the window. and our air conditioning makes some really weird noises sometimes at night. yeah, um. sorry, no- uh, no whistling here!”
your friend laughs, slapping herself on the forehead. “you think i’m crazy, don’t you? maybe i should go home… i think i just- i might need to sleep in my bed tonight, you know?”
you sigh and shut your closet door so that you can sit beside her on the bed.
“definitely not crazy, i promise. here, let me help you get your stuff. i can walk you to your car too.”
you say goodbye, shutting the car door for her and telling her to text you when she makes it home. when you make it back to your room you stop in front of your door to collect yourself.
“what the fuck is wrong with you?!” you whisper yell, opening the closet door and looking down at minho. “you can’t just-! you can’t just do that, minho!”
he pushes your clothes off of him, stands up, and rolls his eyes, getting up from his spot in the corner and rubbing one of his horns.
“that hurt, asshole. there’s a hole in your wall now by the way.” minho sits on your bed and looks at you expectantly. when you don’t sit beside him immediately he pats the bed beside him and raises his eyebrows. you huff and plop down next to him.
you’re both quiet until you decide to speak up.
“why’d you do that? you’ve never done that before. you can’t just- just go around scaring the shit out of everyone that comes to my house! what if she saw you? like really saw you?”
“she talked too much,” comes minho’s response. you make a face at that.
“she did not!” you retort, smacking him on the shoulder. he doesn’t even flinch.
“she did so! all she talked about was that- that wooyoung guy and it was annoying me,” minho grumbled. you raise your eyebrows and scoff, nodding your head.
“oh. oh i see.”
“oh what, you freak? see what?!”
“you’re jealous, minho! you didn’t want her talking about wooyoung because you’re jealous!”
“you were right earlier,” minho says, leaning closer and lowering his voice. “she’s not the crazy one. that’s you.”
minho laughs when you grip onto his horns and shake his head like a bobble head. he flashes his eyes back at you playfully.
“there’s nothing to be jealous of. you’re mine. i have the paperwork to prove it.”
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you didn’t think he would react this way.
the two of you have argued before, sure, you’re bound to have a few spats with someone cohabitating your space for ten plus years. it’s never felt as big as this though. this feels like more than an argument.
“i thought you’d be happy for me? we talked about how much i wanted this, minho. i can’t just stay here forever, why are you being like this?” you ask. you’re hurt. more hurt than you’ve been in a long time. minho saw firsthand how much effort you put into finding your first place to live on your own; he even kept you company and gave you his opinions on each apartment while you looked at their websites.
“that’s not- don’t put words in my mouth. of course i’m happy for you!” he doesn’t look happy though. “you worked so hard, and you deserve it. you deserve to finally have a place of your own. you know that’s what i think.”
“no i don’t know that, minho. i can’t know that if you don’t tell me. what’s wrong then? why are you so upset? you- you encouraged me to apply every time!”
“it’s just real now, it’s real. i don’t- did you ever think that i don’t want to go? i have to go with you. i have to follow you wherever you go, and i don’t have a choice!” the tips of his ears are turning a deep shade of purple and his eyes flicker from black to ruby. “i don’t get a fucking say in that! this may be your home, but it’s mine too, and i don’t want to leave.”
“then don’t. you don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to. i can’t- i can’t just stay here the rest of my life. i don’t want to, that’s not an option for me. i’m sorry minho, but i can’t.”
“you know that’s not how this works. i have to go with you, remember? i can’t stay here no matter how bad i want to! i’m tethered to you.”
“i can’t help that! i didn’t make the rules! it’s not my fault, and i’d fix it for you if i could!” you cry, sitting on your bed and putting your head in your hands. when you look at him again, your eyes are teary. “maybe you should go home, minho. your real home. i think i want to be alone now.” you can’t look at him when you say it.
minho opens his mouth and shuts it, nodding at the ground. by the time you look up again, he’s gone.
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it’s been about a month since you moved into your new place, and you’re half convinced you’re never going to see minho again. you haven’t seen him since you left your parents’ home; this is the longest you’ve gone without seeing him in years. you miss his presence, but you know how stubborn and hard-headed he can be. you both are. despite that, you know he’s hurt too.
what makes it even worse is that you two were never able to put a name on what you were to each other. it always felt like there was something more under the surface of your friendship. you both felt that way, and you knew that. despite his exterior and matching sarcasm, minho was always affectionate and kind with you. his stay in your closet might have originated with the sole purpose of scaring you every night, but that’s been a lost cause for nearly a decade now. he was quick to hold your hand and squish your cheeks and was even your first kiss in high school. he held you when you cried and went out of his way for you when it seemed like no one else would.
it was easy to fall for minho. he is easy to love and easy to want. his absence from your life is glaring.
getting your new apartment set up was a lonely affair. your parents and some friends helped move you in and get things settled, but your trinkets and clothes and pictures are up to you. hanging up the last of your summer and fall clothes was when it hit you that you’re really alone. no roommate, no parents, no closet monster.
however lonely you might be is coming in handy now. you haven’t gotten off this much in years. you haven’t been able to much with minho staying in your closet, but you’re diligently catching up on all you missed.
the buzz of your vibrator is muffled by the comforter you’re laying under, and you shiver as you cum for what feels like the hundredth time that night. you’re finally starting to sweat, so you throw the blanket off, baring yourself to the fairy lights and four walls of your new bedroom. you shudder weakly one last time, holding down the power button on your vibe and turning it off.
you know you’re not done yet, just taking a break.
as your body takes notice of the chill in the room, your nipples harden. your fingers tap at them for a moment, and in no time you’re ready to go again. the toy you were previously using finds its way back to your cunt, and you turn it on its lowest setting to work yourself up again. it’s easy to do, you’re just so sensitive.
“f-fuck, fuck! minho, i can’t- please,” you cry, head shaking back and forth. you can’t contain the noises coming from your mouth no matter how hard you try, and your hips buck and buck against your hand.
if you had any presence of mind you’d hear the tell-tale sound of your closet door creaking open over the buzzing of your toy; you’d see three ruby-red eyes peering at you from your sea of clothes.
your body wracks with tremors as you bring yourself to your climax once again. your vibrator is soaked, fingers sticky wet. your thighs and the sheets under you are faring no better. you place the vibrator on your thigh to rest and bring your fingers to your cunt to lightly rub at your clit.
“m-minho, my minho,” you mumble. your clit’s so swollen and slippery wet against your pruney fingers. now that your toy is turned off and you’ve calmed down, you’re able to hear the closet door. you’re not even ashamed, just needy, and you focus your gaze towards the door. you know it’s him.
“my jagi,” minho responds quietly from the doorway. his eyes are locked on your face rather than your bare body. it makes you smile.
you reach for him and he comes to you as always. minho climbs onto your bed and wraps you in his arms like you’re not stark naked and sweaty, like he doesn’t smell your arousal.
“you’re here,” you say, caressing his horns as he bucks them lightly against your forehead. “i didn’t- i didn’t think you’d come back.”
“you called for me. you said my name, silly. i’ll always come when you call.” minho nuzzles his nose against yours.
“missed you. i missed you so much, minho.” your arms wrap around him and he rocks you slowly from side to side. minho’s hand slides down to your hip to squeeze the warm, soft skin.
“i missed you, jagi. i was so bored!” he cries, dramatic. “i can see that you certainly found a way to occupy your time.” his eyes flick down to your chest and right back up to your eyes. you grab one of his horns and pull at it to make his head shake and he laughs.
“you be quiet! i’m just… making up for lost time, i guess.”
minho hums. he lowers his face so his nose is only a breath from yours. “i hate that i missed the show,” he whispers. you bite your lip and situate yourself in minho’s strong arms, turning over slightly so you’re on your back so you can slowly spread your legs for him. minho’s hand follows the movement of your thighs, and he grunts when his fingers finally touch the silky wetness that sticks to the inside of them.
“you- you didn’t miss it. i wasn’t done yet,” you breathe. you arch your hips towards him and he finally meets your lips with a kiss. your second kiss, this one much more intense than its predecessor. it heats up quickly, a clash of lips and teeth and tongue. minho’s tongue is longer than yours, a little rougher, but definitely not unwelcomed. his palm kneads at your thigh as his tongue flutters against yours. “touch me, touch me please, minho.”
“greedy thing. i am touching you, jagi.” he cocks his head and it makes you huff. before he can say anything else, you grab his hand and bring it to where you’re craving him. despite how brazen the action was, you’re still sensitive from your previous orgasms, and it makes you hiss. minho’s small fingers play with your cunt as if he’s done it countless times before. you’d laugh if it didn’t feel so damn good. minho knows you better than anyone; it’s not a surprise that he’d just get it from the beginning.
“ahh, shit,” minho mumbles into the sweaty skin of your neck. “so soft. ah, such a wet pussy. how many times did you cum before you called for me?” he rubs at your clit with the pads of his fingers for a moment before bringing them to his mouth to wet. at his first taste of you he grunts, quickly bringing his fingers back down to your cunt.
“u-um, three, maybe? i think? fuck, minho please. i need you to take your clothes off! why am i the only one naked?”
you know minho, you know he wants to tease, but he surprisingly wastes no time in shucking his shirt over his head and pulling his pants down his legs. he goes for his boxers but stops.
“look, it’s a little… ah, how do i say this? different? special?”
you laugh at that. “hello? fucking- special?! minho you have horns on your head and three eyes, i don’t think your dick is going to scare me.”
minho shrugs and laughs with you, finally dropping his boxers and showing you what’s underneath. you’re right, it’s not scary, but it’s not like anything you’ve taken before. it’s thick, ribs and ridges and layers galore with a bulbous head. you bite your lip, reaching out to touch him with gentle fingers. your hand wraps around him and he grunts, lightly thrusting into your fist. it’s already oozing steadily from the tip, making the slide easier for both of you.
“oh, minho, that’s going to feel so good in me,” you breathe. you know it will. minho climbs between your legs and spreads them wide, eyes focusing on where you’re ready and leaking for him. he scoots forward on his knees and grabs the base of his cock, guiding himself to the slit of your cunt. your arms twitch when you feel the texture of him for the first time as he slowly grinds on you; minho’s already got your eyes rolling and he just started.
“oh my god, that feels so f-fucking good. it’s s-so! ‘m s-still sensitive,” you whimper. the ridges on his thick cock rub against you just right. “you’ll make me cum again.”
“yeah? mm, i think i’d like that,” minho hums. he takes both of your ankles in his hands and spreads your legs wider, fucking his cock against the slit of your cunt. there’s barely any friction because you’re so wet. that’s lost to minho though, he doesn’t seem to mind at all, much too busy watching the way your puffy clit catches on the mushroom tip of his cock.
“don’t you want to fuck me? please, see, ‘m ready for you,” you say, bringing your fingers down to your cunt to spread yourself open for minho. “tight too. promise.”
“you promise?” he raises his eyebrows, and his gaze flicks up to your face. “you promise your little cunt’s tight for me?”
you nod your head.
“let me come find out then,” minho hums. he taps the head of his cock one last time against your clit and smirks when your body jolts under him. minho guides his cock to your hole, slowly rubbing the tip against it as a taste of what’s to come. your eyes roll as the thick head slips into your cunt.
“yesss, jagi. you’re so relaxed, that’s perfect. just open up for me, let me in, that’s right. oh, you feel so good around me,” minho breathes. his head hangs low and his arms shake slightly where they’re holding him up.
“b-big, ‘s big, minho, fuck,” you cry. your pussy makes a downright filthy noise as minho thrusts fully into you, and you cover your face with your hands. minho tuts.
“talking to me,” minho mutters, smirking. his hands are quick to tug yours away from your face, holding your wrists together on your stomach. “don’t hide from me, you look at me when i fuck you, hm? keep those pretty eyes right here on me.”
you nod quickly, willing to do almost anything for him at this point. you can’t stop touching him, the cool peach fuzz on his body feels so good against you. minho’s not much better. he can’t keep his hands still either, gliding up and down your body. gripping your thighs, squishing your tits together, holding your hands. he’s missed you.
before you know it, you’re clutching onto his horns while he fucks you into the mattress.
“minho, please! fuck, more. please give me more?”
“i’ll give you everything. you’ll have everything you could ever want,” minho grunts. he complies with your request, fucking you so that you’re almost being pushed up the bed. you really might be if it weren’t for the grip you have on his horns.
“gonna make me cum. g-gonna cum on your cock, minho.”
“yeah? baby, jagi. cum. cum for me now.”
it doesn’t take long with you so sensitive, and soon you’re cumming for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. it might as well be with the way your body is quivering in minho’s hold
“fuck, cumming just for me. pretty, pretty baby.” minho slows his movements, but you wrap your legs around his waist to pull him closer.
“keep going. fuck me ‘til you cum. i can take it, i’ll be good.” that’s all it takes for minho to gather himself again and work back up to his prior pace. his eyes flash red, and they quickly focus on your chest. your chest is bouncing with the force of his thrusts, and he can’t keep his mouth off of them any longer. minho leans down and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, tongue flicking and teeth nibbling at the little bud.
your grip on his horns slackens for a moment as you throw your head back, but soon you find yourself pressing kisses to them while minho has his fun with you. before you know it, you’re sucking on one like you would his fingers or his tongue or his cock. the curved appendage glides perfectly into your mouth with minho’s head ducked, the slide easy thanks to your spit. you bob your head on it as best you can while on your back, and it has minho panting into the sweaty skin of your chest. one of your hands clutches his shoulder as the other rubs up and down his other horn, stimulating it while your mouth is occupied with its twin.
“i’m- fuck. no one’s ever- oh, jagi. i’m cumming, cumming in this little cunt, shiiiit.”
minho pulls back, and his horn slides from your mouth. you slurp as much of your spit back into your mouth as you can as minho takes hold of your cheeks so that he can see you face while he cums. he’s quiet, short gasps leaving his mouth and stomach caving as he pumps you full of his cum.
he slouches down on top of you when he’s finished and you kiss his head. soon your positions are switched, and minho lays on his back while you curl up beside him.
“you know we have to talk,” you whisper, kissing his chest. minho hums quietly in response and takes hold of your hand that’s resting gently on his stomach.
“tomorrow. we’ll talk tomorrow, hm? just lay here with me tonight.” he brings your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles.
you snort at that. “have you ever even slept in a bed before?”
“i’m about to,” minho laughs. he stretches his legs and wriggles down until his head is resting more comfortably on the pillow beneath him. “mm, i think i might like this better than the closet.”
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multifandombitxh · 11 months
Text
Keep It Down
Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader
Genre: Smut/Angst with some fluff sprinkled in there ✨
Warnings: Self pleasure, caught in the act, jealous/protective Din, 18+
AN: some good ol Jealous!Din for the girlies 😌 It's such a stereotypical fic gang I'm gonna be so real with you lmao. It's also a long one so prepare for the worst typos you've ever witnessed.
PS I haven't seen S3 yet but I got back into the hype 💁‍♀️
18+ minors dni
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It had been quite some time since you were able to have a moment to yourself. So long, in fact, that you couldn't remember the last time you did anything for yourself that was even remotely relaxing. You had been stuck on one mission for months, scouring the corners of each galaxy for a specific target with an unreasonably high bounty over their head. Din kept telling you it would be worth it in the end, but you were beginning to doubt that sentiment about two months into the search.
After a very pleasant visit to Alderaan, you were able to snag something for yourself to help with some much needed "stress relief".
You did your best to hide it from Din, considering you really didn't want him to know you'd just purchased a vibrating self massager. They were hard to come by, so when you found a merchant that sold them discreetly, you knew you had to take the chance. After it was all said and done, and Din asked where you'd been while he was busy getting information about the target, it was hard to explain to him where you'd gone.
"And where have you been this whole time?" He asked as you approached him outside of a local bar.
"I was, um, chatting up some locals," You lied, trying to maintain some semblance of composure as he stared you down. "Wasn't able to find anything about the target. I don't think he's been here."
"Well, while you were busy wasting your time, I was able to find one of his distant relatives," He explained, "Turns out he has such a high bounty for more than just murder, he's a real piece of shit in the eyes of his family. She said she knows where he might be."
"Yeah? Where?"
"Tatooine."
You scoffed. "That's not far."
"Which means we need to leave soon," He explained, "There's a crew heading there in just a few hours."
"Okay, so who's the crew?" You asked, eyeing him suspiciously. "Why can't we just go on our own? The ship could make it."
"It could, but not that quickly," He sighed, "Their ship is a little more advanced. It'll get us there faster."
You shrugged, raising an eyebrow at him. "Have you talked to them?"
He nodded once and began to walk off, likely in the direction of the meeting place. "I have. That distant relative? She knows these guys, let me talk to one of them over her communicator. They said they'll take us there, no questions asked."
You followed closely, trying to match his pace. "I find that hard to believe."
"You find a lot of things hard to believe," He teased, nudging your shoulder with his own. "It's kept us out of a lot of trouble. Always liked that about you."
You tried not to react to the compliment- the last thing he needed was an ego boost- but internally, it made your heart flutter and your stomach feel heavy. You opted not to respond to this, hoping he wouldn't press.
Unfortunately, that only made it worse.
"Would it kill you to take a compliment every once in a while?" He asked, his tone annoyed.
"It might," You replied with a smile, "Never done it, so I don't know."
"Maybe you should try it some time," He scoffed back at you, causing you to roll your eyes.
Your relationship with Din was complicated to say the least. You knew from the start you had some kind of attraction to him- what kind, you weren't sure, but it was strong and unrelenting. His voice was dangerously enticing, leaving you shivering any time he spoke just above a whisper, and the mystery of his face only added to the excitement. You had no clue what he looked like under that helmet, but you didn't care at this point. It never occurred to you to fantasize about his appearance- the way he carried himself, his voice, his confidence, everything about him struck you more.
But you'd be lying if you said you weren't a little bit curious about the color of his eyes.
When the two of you finally arrived at the crew's headquarters, you gave him a skeptical look. The warehouse before you was old, rusting and decaying in every corner. It was discolored, looking to have once been a pale green. The roof had caved in in several places, and the stairs to the roof were a death trap waiting to collapse on any unsuspecting victims. Din took note of your expression, waving his hand once to dismiss it.
"Not a word," He commanded, "I don't want to hear it."
"All I'm saying-"
"Don't make me tell you twice, Y/N. I already know what you're going to say, so zip it."
Frowning, you folded your arms over your chest in a pout. You followed him inside, passing through a creaky metal door that you were sure would be better off as scrap metal. Din led the way, checking corners and keeping one hand close to his blaster. As you entered the warehouse, the smell of burning rubber invaded your nostrils, causing you to make a face. As you rounded a corner, a large, shiny silver ship sat in the center of the large open space.
It stood out like a sore thumb, clean and sparkling among the rubble. You both exchanged looks, watching as three people stood around the ship and chatted away. They didn't seem hostile, but you knew better than to underestimate them. You approached carefully, keeping an eye out for any others who might be hiding nearby. One of them took notice of you as you stepped under a light, giving you away.
"Hey, the Mandalorian is here!" He called out, waving excitedly at the two of you. The man was tall and thin, barely any meat on his bones but a smile that was charming in its own way. "He's got a friend! Come on over, you guys!"
Din glanced over at you slowly, and you returned his look with a shrug. As you walked over to the group, you took in the remaining two of the crew; a woman with short, dark hair, several tattoos, and a frown that would scare off anyone. The other, a man of similar stature to the first, wore round, thick glasses, and was covered in what appeared to be oil.
"Lera said you'd be coming soon," The man said, "What are your names? I'm Dom, that's Starsei, and this guy over here is my twin, Arus."
"Y/N," You greeted, offering a small smile, then gesturing to Din. "He won't tell you his name, just call him whatever you like."
Din nodded, affirming your words. Dom watched the two of you for a moment, a huge grin still plastered to his face. A fourth member of the crew emerged from underneath the ship, covered in more oil than Arus. His dark, straight hair clung to his forehead and his mouth hung open as he breathed heavily. Oil stuck to his bare torso as he offered the two of you a wave.
"And that's Nox," Dom said, an annoyed tone to his voice.
You couldn't help smiling at Nox- he was handsome, likely more handsome than most- with a wide jaw, dark stubble, and his body toned similarly to that of a God. You shifted your weight as he locked eyes with you, shooting you a half smile that gave you butterflies. Din stood beside you, moving closer as he noticed the tension that hung between you and the mystery man. Nox took note of Din as well, offering him a full smile.
"Have any trouble getting here?" He asked, his voice just as dreamy as he looked.
"No," Din said simply.
An uncomfortable silence fell over the room as the two of them held each other's gaze, as if a silent conversation was happening just between them. You cleared your throat and looked over to Dom, giving him a warm smile. "So, um, when do we leave?"
"As soon as you're ready," He replied, "We were just finishing up repairs on the ship, so you're welcome to head inside and make yourselves at home. We'll all be roommates for the next two days, so we'll do a big dinner tonight to get to know each other better."
"Sounds great," You said, your voice as friendly as you could muster. There was a clear rivalry brewing between Nox and Din, and you were trying to do everything in your power to alleviate the tension. "We'll head inside."
Din ignored you, still staring at Nox. Irritated, you grabbed his upper arm and began dragging him toward the ship, smiling at the others along the way. Nox caught your eye again and you smiled, hoping he wasn't intimidated by Din too much. Once inside the ship, you all but slammed Din against a wall once you were out of earshot of the others.
"What is wrong with you?" You asked.
"What's wrong with me?" He replied, his voice filled with anger. "What's wrong with you?"
"I haven't done anything wrong!" You said, shouting in a whisper. "You're the one acting crazy!"
"Oh, I'm the crazy one?" He laughed, "I'm not the one making doe eyes at strangers."
Your mouth hung open in shock. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me, Y/N," He went on, "This is serious. We don't know them. If he tries something because you couldn't help yourself, and everything goes sideways, this was all for nothing."
"Why do you care?" You asked, becoming annoyed with his reasoning. "He's hot, give me a break! I'm allowed to think people are hot, Din!"
He let out a deep sigh, shaking his head. "We're on a mission, Y/N. This isn't the time."
"Well, it's been a long mission," You huffed, raising an eyebrow at him. "And I'm bored. The least I can do is have a little fun."
In truth, you hadn't even been planning on doing anything with Nox other than admire his good-looks. Your feelings for Din ran deep, and you weren't about to ignore those feelings for one good looking guy. If anything, you were hoping this would show Din that you weren't his, and that he had no claim over you. Maybe, just maybe, it would be enough for him to come clean about his own feelings.
If he even had any for you, that was.
Once everyone was loaded up onto the ship and you'd set off, you found yourself relaxing on a very comfy couch in a very cramped lounge area. The ship was dimly lit, offering little light to help you find your way around, so you opted to sit down and wait until someone told you to do something. After a while, Arus found you, and decided to sit with you.
"So, uh, is your partner, um... Okay?" He asked quietly.
"He's fine," You said, waving your hand.
"What was he so angry about?"
You shrugged, trying not to give away what was really going on between you. "Beats me."
You decided to get to know Arus a bit, finding out that he and Dom were engineers that escaped from the Empire many years ago after faking their deaths. You learned that Starsei is their pilot, and she seems standoffish because she doesn't often speak. She was a prisoner of the Empire, who helped Dom and Arus escape many years ago. Nox is their newest recruit; also an engineer, but mostly specializes in communications. He also used to be a smuggler.
After a while of chatting back and forth, Nox joined the party, sitting between you and Arus.
"Seems like the Mandalorian isn't having a great time if I'm not mistaken," Nox joked, glancing over at you. "Thought he was gonna slit my throat after I saw him in the hall just now."
"He'll warm up to everyone eventually," You said with a small smile, "He's a little hesitant about new people."
"So, how long have you two been together?" Nox asked, wiggling his eyebrows at you. Shock took over your features and you laughed awkwardly at the gesture.
"We're not together," You stated, "We've been working together for a long time now. Maybe a year."
Nox seemed to ponder your response for a moment as Dom entered the room, knocking on the wall to get everyone's attention.
"Arus, we need you up front," Dom said in a soft voice. "Star could use some help."
Arus excused himself, leaving you with Nox in silence. You tried to relax, sinking into the sofa as much as you could to appear as non-threatening as possible. Nox did the same, leaning back and yawning as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. The only sound was the rush of the ship, shaking softly as it dove through space.
"I want to know more about you," Nox said after a moment, turning to meet your gaze. His green eyes were soft, but lidded. "Who is Y/N, exactly? Other than the Mandalorian's pet, I mean."
"I am not his pet," You scoffed, laughing slightly and hitting his upper arm before looking away. "We're friends, that's all."
"You might want to check on that with him," He replied, "He was ready to kill me earlier just for looking at you. I don't think that's a normal thing to do for someone who's just a friend."
Nox's hand came to rest on your knee, his palm open fully and his thumb gently stroking back and forth. "If I'm being honest, I think he could tell why I was looking at you, and I think that pissed him off."
When you met his gaze, a pit formed in your stomach. Nox was handsome, and charming, and clearly making a move on you. But... Something was wrong. It felt wrong. There was something about the way his hand felt on your knee that made your skin crawl, his voice made you cringe, and the entire setting was uncomfortable. It was hard to pinpoint exactly why, until you thought a little harder about it.
He wasn't Din.
"I... Think I should go," You said, standing from the couch and turning back to face him briefly. "Look, you seem nice. But I'm... I'm not interested."
He smirked up at you. "I knew it. You totally have a thing for each other."
Dom appeared in the doorway again, a huge grin on his face. "Who's ready to eat?"
-
After what felt like hours, you were finally able to step away from dinner to your quarters- Starsei showed you the way- closing the door behind you. You removed your gear, tossing it to the floor and sighing in relief at the loss of the heaviness. Removing the massager from your pocket, you walked to the bathroom and gave it a good wash, not trusting it after being in your pocket all day.
Once you returned to the room, you actually took in what it looked like. Star had told you that you and Din would have to share one room, which hadn't bothered you until you realized there was only one bed that sat in the center of the room, facing the door. It looked big enough for both of you, but still, you knew it would be an awkward conversation to have once he arrived.
The room was dimly lit- much like the rest of the ship- one wall light sitting above the door and casting a reddish glow over the entire room. The bed looked uncomfortable, with a thin, gray blanket sitting atop the mattress and two equally thin pillows where your heads would rest. It wasn't home, by any means, but it was a place to sleep.
With that, you laid down in the bed, shivering from anticipation. It had been a long time since you'd had enough privacy for something like this. Not bothering to remove your pants, you slowly lowered your hand past the waistband and sighed softly as the blue silicone material grazed your skin. With one press of the button, you felt yourself melting into the hard mattress, all of your worries fading away with the soft sound of buzzing.
Your breathing began to pick up in pace and you wriggled slightly as the sensation became more and more intense. It was getting hard to suppress the sounds you were making, so you bit down on your lip to try and stifle whatever noises threatened to come out. A shaky breath managed to worm its way out of you, hitching in your throat as it started to escape.
Thoughts of Din infiltrated your imagination, and you didn't try to suppress them as they came. You thought about the sound of his voice, talking you through the pleasure and egging you on. A wave of energy passed through you and went straight to your core, wetness beginning to pool. You thought about his hands pinning you down as he had his way with you, panting and sweating above you. It was almost too much, and it felt like the room was spinning.
Closing your eyes, you began to focus on finding release, waves of pleasure flooding your body with each passing second. Your breathing picked up in pace, and it was getting harder and harder to stop the tiny moans that escaped your throat. With a flick of your wrist, the massager hit the perfect spot, pulling a sharp gasp out of you. Just as it left your lips, a large, warm hand clamped over your mouth.
Terror filled your body and replaced all sense of satisfaction, forcing you to rip your hand out of its hiding place and your eyes to shoot open. Din hovered over you, one hand covering the lower half of your shocked face while the other pressed into the mattress beside your head. He was missing most of his armor, his helmet the only piece that remained. Adrenaline shot through your veins, and you struggled against his hold.
"Sshh," He shushed you, holding a single finger up to the part of his mask where his lips would be. "Everyone in this quadrant is gonna hear you if you don't keep it down."
Confusion replaced the shock, your eyebrows drawing together as you breathed heavily through your nose. He seemed to see the questions in your eyes, and you could swear you could hear the smirk in his voice when he spoke again.
"I could hear you from down the hall," He explained, "Thought maybe you were... With someone. But it looks like I was wrong."
You shot him a glare, thinking back to the evening you spent with Nox and how it must have implicated something different to Din.
"I don't have to help you, if you don't want me to," He reasoned, the hand covering your mouth beginning to lessen the pressure it was applying. "I just don't want you to get caught by the others. Just say the word, I'll walk away and we'll never speak of this again."
You wished you could see his face to make a better decision about what his intentions were, but with the helmet in the way, it made it impossible. You thought back to the feelings you were having just minutes ago, and felt excitement bubble up in your gut. Despite the surprise, you wanted this. Your expression softened under his gaze, and you felt your body relax under his touch.
"The way you're looking at me... Should I take that as a yes?" He asked, tilting his head to one side. "You want me here? You don't want me to go find your little friend, do you?"
You shook your head slowly and a soft, amused laugh filtered through his helmet, sending a shiver down your spine.
"You wanna give that thing to me?" He asked, gesturing with his head toward the massager. You lifted your hand and placed it in his, your body beginning to shake at the idea of what was about to happen. "That's my girl."
His words sent a shockwave down to your middle, causing a soft whine to escape from behind his hand. His girl. Remembering to keep you quiet, he pressed down on your mouth again, shaking his head.
"As much as I want to hear every little sound you're going to make," Din said, his voice sounding strained. "Can't have anyone else listening in, got that? You're mine tonight."
You nodded.
"Glad to see you can follow orders somewhere, at least," He joked, the laughter in his voice making you shiver.
With one hand he managed to remove your pants, lowering them to just below your knees, the cool air hitting you and making you shake. He took note of this and pressed the massage straight against your clit, keeping it there, but not turning it on. Frustration began to build as he teased you, running the material over the spot slowly and gently. Your brows drew together at this and you gave him another deadly look.
"Give me a break, I've been waiting for this for a long time," He said, sounding breathless as he looked you up and down. "You have more scars than I thought you would. Still, you're as perfect as I imagined."
With wide eyes you wiggled free from the hand that covered your mouth. "Are you saying you've thought about me like this?" You asked, your voice strained.
"Quiet," He commanded, shoving you back down into the mattress with his free hand. "I already told you, the others might be listening."
"Seriously?" You questioned, exasperated. "Did you think I wasn't gonna react to that?'
"I knew you would," He replied, gripping your jaw with his fingers. "I just wanted to distract you so I could do this."
You opened your mouth to respond, but were quickly silenced by his hand once more as he pressed the button on the massager, effectively turning it on. A hearty groan filled your throat as your head fell back, Din's hand keeping you in place. Your knees shook as he worked you over, circling the massager before pressing it against your clit again. Whines and moans were easily muffled by his hand.
Without thinking twice, you reached out and gripped his bicep, your fingertips digging into the soft flesh that hid beneath his shirt. He grunted at your touch, lowering his face closer to yours as you squirmed beneath him. "Eyes on me, yeah? Keep your eyes on me, Y/N."
With that, you reached up to touch the side of his helmet- a silent plea for him to remove it. You begged with your eyes, since you couldn't with your mouth, hoping he would give you what you wanted so you could look him in the eye. He hesitated, his movements slowing as you pressed your hand to his helmet. Sighing, he removed his hand from your mouth, instead placing it to your cheek. "I can't, you know that."
"Please," You blurted, all dignity vanishing from your body as you begged him to show his face. "You know me-"
The massager hit a rather sensitive spot, causing you to cry out and lurch upwards. Just as it began to leave your mouth, his hand was quick to silence you.
"You've gotta be more careful than that," He scolded, pressing it harder up against you. Your back arches off the bed, causing your chest to graze his. Sighing shakily, he kept the massager stationary, sending wave after wave of pleasure washing over you. You'd all but forgotten your desire to lock eyes with him, your climax on the horizon and taking up all priority in your brain.
"That's it," He encouraged, drawing out each word. "You're being so good for me."
Broken whimpers spilled past his hand, and he didn't stop them this time. Instead, he doubled down, maintaining the same position that was driving you closer and closer to the edge. It was within reach now, just a few seconds more and you'd be coming undone beneath him. Din could sense this somehow, his face mere inches from yours.
"I know, I know," He mewled, breathing hard behind his mask. "Be a good girl, now. Give me what I want."
His words were the tipping point, sending you flying over the edge. Your climax crashed through you, your head falling back against the mattress as several stifled moans filled the air. Din hummed as you finished, as if satisfied by his work. He never wavered, his helmet stationary, a sure sign that he watched your face the entire time. His hand abandoned your mouth and you gasped, gulping in air as you came down from your high. The buzzing ceased and your body fell limp, your muscles relaxing.
Din helped you redress yourself, taking his time and tracing his fingers over your exposed skin before it vanished beneath your clothes. "So that's where you went today," He laughed gently, turning the massager over in his hand. "I knew you weren't talking to locals. You've never been a good liar."
You groaned and rolled onto your side, facing away from him. Embarrassment flooded your body, the realization of what had just happened setting in. Despite the fact that he entered the room, saw you as you pleasured yourself, and still felt the desire to help you get off, you couldn't help feeling vulnerable.
"Y/N."
His voice sounded... Different. It wasn't metallic, it didn't sound muffled or altered in any way. It was organic, and soft, and hung in the air like gentle music to your ears. The realization hit you like a brick.
His helmet was off.
As you tried to turn back around, he was quick to stop you, moving you back onto your side as he laid beside you in the bed. His breath hit your neck, whispering past your ear like a soft breeze. The sensation made you flinch, drawing in a sharp breath as his arm wrapped around your middle from behind. He pulled you close, the center of your shoulders pressing into his warm chest.
"I hope you know I did that by choice," He mumbled, his lips grazing your skin. "I didn't embarrass you, did I?"
"No, no, it's not that," You said quickly, "I just... didn't think you'd ever want to do something like that. I thought it was against your creed. It took me off guard, I guess."
"It is," Din sighed, "But if I'm breaking the rules for anyone, it should be you."
"Are you still mad at me?" You asked, a hint of playfulness in your voice.
The quiet laugh that left his lips was enough to make anyone crumble at his feet. "I was never mad at you. I could tell you were getting... Frustrated, to put it mildly. I didn't blame you for being attracted to someone else. It was him I was mad at."
"You barely knew him," You replied.
"I know," Din agreed, leaning in close enough to kiss your jaw. "But he was looking at my girl."
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sundrop-writes · 5 months
Text
Picture Perfect
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(Perv)Sub!Mike Schmidt x Dom!Fem!Reader
Summary:
You and Mike have been dating for a few months now, and you have a great thing going. You're both very horny people who are more than happy to indulge in your desires with each other. So why is it that you find him hiding a dirty picture from you when you catch him masturbating one morning?
(Perv)Sub!Mike Schmidt x Dom!Fem!Reader. Established Relationship. Smut. Takes place outside the movie's canon.
Word Count: 5,100
Horror Characters Masterlist | AO3 Link
Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.
Warnings: This is primarily a smut fic; this can be read with or without considering the events of the film, and has no spoilers for the plot of the movie. There are dom/sub dynamics here - Mike is more submissive and the reader is more dominant; because this is a pre-established relationship, the characters have been settled into these dynamics for a while and even though it's not discussed during the fic, we can assume they have established safewords and fully talked about each other's boundaries so everyone is safe and well cared for; she reader has female anatomy, and uses she/her pronouns (but with all my fics, most of the pronouns used are you/yours); this fic does use Y/N. 
For the main smutty parts: some dubious consent - Mike took a picture of the reader’s underwear/up the reader’s skirt before they were dating (when she was sleeping and could not consent) she was physically attracted to him at the time and would have consented to the photo being taken if he could have asked and finds the idea of this happening to be hot but he never asked permission and hid this from her well into their relationship; the reader finds this photo and ‘punishes’ Mike for it even though she likes the photo and enjoys his perverted thoughts about her; descriptions of masturbation - Mike jacks-off when the reader is not looking/not in the room and she walks in on him; mentions of Mike being gagged; mentions of Mike being tied up and overstimulated (multiple orgasms); mentions of Mike eating the reader’s pussy; Mike is called ‘good boy’, ‘Mikey’, ‘baby’; mentions of the reader riding Mike, mentions of creampie kink; mentions of orgasm restriction (toward Mike); marking kink - mentions of the reader biting/marking Mike during a previous sexual encounter; Perv!Mike; mentions of sexual photos being taken with consent (of the reader and of Mike); hair-pulling (towards Mike); thigh riding - Mike rides the reader's thigh as his punishment; mentions of a cock cage (not actually used in the fic); mild pain kink; some descriptions of subspace (even though it’s not called that in the fic); degradation kink (the reader verbally degrades Mike); mentions of spanking; undertones of humiliation kink; mentions of underwear stealing (Mike stole a pair of the reader’s panties in the past); (mild) Mommy kink - Mike calls the reader Mommy (once or twice, it’s not all that prevalent in the fic); finger sucking.
A/N: Here, I did go far beyond what was in the original request, but I saw the mention of Polaroid pictures in the request and my mind immediately went to perv!Mike?? I’m not even sure why. But I had fun with this lmao. And I keep thinking of writing a kind of ‘prequel’ fic of the situation where he originally took the photo, but idk. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! If you want to see more Mike Schmidt fics from me, definitely let me know by reblogging this or commenting on it.
...
When you got out of the shower, the last thing you were expecting to hear was the distinct sound of moans coming from the bedroom. 
Not that you were at all disappointed by the needy, choked off sounds that your boyfriend Mike made. You were just… surprised. 
After the night the two of you had before, the fact that Mike had the desire to masturbate was surprising to say the least. 
You thought that you would have tired him out and left his cock sore and worn out for at least a good day to follow. It had been a rare night when the two of you had the house all to yourselves - Abby was sleeping over at a friend’s place (Mike often credited you with Abby being more open and sociable and feeling up to doing things like this where she wouldn’t have before) - and so, you had certainly taken advantage of that. You enjoyed a night where you could get him in bed without having to gag him or shove his face into a pillow in order to assure his silence. 
You had indulged in his sounds, in fact. 
You had spent the night with him tied to the bed, curious about how many times you could make him cum before his body outright gave up. The answer to that burning question was four, which was a record for him. After the forth orgasm spurted up over his belly, covering him in even more mess, you continued to milk him through it and his softening dick gave you nothing but pathetic clear drips of non-cum - he wept and begged you to stop, threatening that he might pass out from the efforts. 
With the satisfaction of the answer under your belt, and taking in the sight of him so debauched one last time, you finally untied him. And then he spent some time between your thighs, enjoying a reward for being such a good boy, shoving his tongue deep inside of you while the morning sun warmed the curtains, signifying that the two of you had truly been at it all night. 
The two of you eventually slept for a few hours in the morning. After waking up from the haze, you had peeled yourself out from under his heavy grip on your waist when you read the numbers on the digital clock sitting on his nightstand, seeing that it was almost noon - Abby would need to be picked up from her friend’s house soon, and you wanted a shower while Mike was still asleep. 
The last thing you were expecting was to emerge from the shower to the sounds of him getting off yet again. One thing you knew for certain since you had started fucking him - he was insatiable. He was seemingly always horny the moment that he got you behind closed doors. (And often, he couldn’t even wait to get you behind closed doors - something you loved, even if it was inconvenient.) But you thought that a night like last night would tire out the libido of someone even as horny as him. 
But you liked a challenge. 
If he wanted his cock to be truly sore, if he wanted his balls so thoroughly drained - then you would pin him to the bed and ride him with harshness and haste before you had to go pick Abby up. It would be a waste of a shower, but you usually found the feeling of his cum sticking to the inside of your underwear to be a fond one. 
“Mikey,” You called out the playful nickname as you walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. 
You had a towel wrapped around your chest - mostly to keep the chill of the air off you and to keep your wet body from dripping all over the carpet. Modesty wasn’t really a thing between you and Mike, not when you were so intensely familiar with each other’s naked bodies now. 
At the sound of your voice, Mike let out a choked sound, and you saw his movements pause - which was entirely strange. It’s not like you hadn’t seen his naked cock before. It’s not like you hadn’t seen him masturbate before - several times, you had him do so just for your viewing pleasure. 
If he wasn’t allowed to touch himself as a punishment, you always told him so very clearly. But last night, you made no such rule. You simply expected that he wouldn’t want to after the thorough fucking you had given him. So you had to wonder why he was trying to hide from you. 
You walked to stand on his side of the bed, and he stared at you with wide, startled eyes, covering his hard cock with both hands. The sheet was draped around his thighs, revealing his nakedness, as well as showing off the many purpling bite marks that you had left on his chest, stomach, hips and thighs the night before. He was an absolutely perfect picture of sweet debauchery that you would hold fondly in your mind forever. 
“Baby, what are you doing?” You inquired gently, entirely curious as to why he had stopped. “You don’t have to hide from me.” 
“I - I thought you would be in the shower… longer.” He breathed out, pure guilt on his voice. It was almost adorable, seeing how he could go from fucked-out and begging to completely shy about his own desires. 
“I would have invited you to join me in the shower if I knew you wanted more,” You chuckled, stepping forward and running your fingers through his hair, petting him like the sweet puppy that he was. “Needy little thing, aren’t you?” 
Mike leaned into the touch, closing his eyes - the surge of soft pleasure that your simple touch pushed through him caused his arms to go loose, dropping away from shielding his crotch. This made him inadvertently drop something onto the sheets that he had been hiding from you in his closed fist. 
You noticed the ruffle of what sounded like paper and saw the object fall out of the corner of your eye. So you abandoned gently stroking your fingers across his scalp in favor of investigating what it was. 
Mike’s eyes widened in horror and he froze up, completely stiff as you picked up the polaroid picture, and raised it up to get a better look at it. 
Immediately, you knew it was a picture of yourself. 
You knew that Mike had a collection of dirty shots of you. It had only been a few weeks into your sex life when he had pulled out the camera and shyly asked to take pictures of you. You had bargained that he could take as many as he wanted, if you could take some photos of him in return. He kept his pictures of you in a shoebox under his bed and you kept yours in a special jewelry box on your vanity. 
But this picture wasn’t one that you recognized. 
It was your ass - a shot of your dress pulled up from behind, revealing you wearing a simple pair of cotton panties (not something you would have worn for the other ‘photoshoots’, not some impressive lingerie). In the photo, your legs were lazily parted, revealing the way the underwear was slightly caught between the lips of your cunt, even showing your pubes sticking out slightly from the fabric. If you weren’t mistaken, based on the color, that was Mike’s couch you were laying on. 
But when had the photo been taken? 
“Look, Y/N, please, I’m so sorry-” Mike swallowed harshly, desperate to get some air into his lungs as he begged for your forgiveness. “You were just so pretty - and - and - I couldn’t help myself. I know it was awful, just - please, please, don’t be mad.” 
That was when it clicked in your mind. 
You recognized the pattern on the fabric of your dress. You had worn it on the first night you had babysat Abby for Mike - back when the two of you weren’t even dating yet. That night, you had fallen asleep on the couch after you put Abby to bed. And later in the night, you thought nothing of it when you saw Mike’s polaroid camera sitting on a random side table when it hadn’t been there before. It hadn’t even crossed your mind as suspicious after he had woken you up, thanked you for helping out, and let you out the front door for the night. 
That dirty little pervert. 
You resisted the urge to grin at this realization, putting on a stony face and faking anger. You couldn’t have him thinking that this action would pass without punishment. Even if you heavily enjoyed the idea of being a perverted little admirer of you before the two of you even got together. 
You reached over and put your hand on the back of his head, this time digging sharp nails into his hair in a fierce, unforgiving grip instead of petting him so gently. He winced as this, and you noticed a distinct bit of precum weeping out of his still hard cock at the action. You yanked on his head harshly, forcing him to look up at you while you turned the photo around and shoved it in his face. 
Instinctively, knowing that it would likely only make his punishment worse to oggle over his mistakes, he looked you dead in the eyes, resisting the temptation to stare at your ass in the photo. 
“When did you take this?” You asked, already knowing the answer, but wanting him to say it. To emphasize your words, you yanked on his hair again and jabbed the picture closer to his face. 
He breathed out harshly, but didn’t fight against your grip, keeping his large, glossy, guilty eyes staring up at you. 
“Look, I know I did a bad boy thing, I know it was bad, but please, please, I’ll make it up to you.” He begged so beautifully. “I’ll be a good boy, I’ll be a good boy for you, I promise.” 
His words were pitched soft with need, and it was a unique tone that made your stomach clench. As tempting as the offer was, you couldn’t go soft on him now. 
“Answer the question!” You pressed, tugging his neck back even harsher with your grip on his hair. 
“It - it was a long time ago!” He rushed to answer. “I - I shouldn’t have done it, I know that! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” 
“Why did you do it if you knew it was bad?” You asked. 
This was the most interesting question to you. The thing you were most curious about. 
You wondered why Mike felt the need to invade your privacy with something like this when you simply would have given in to his advances if he had asked. 
You had been attracted to Mike since you met him. The entire reason you had taken on the job of babysitting his sister was because you found him to be so intensely attractive, and you wanted to get to know him better. At the time, he was someone who seemed shy and generally anti-social, you yearned to be closer to him. That night, if you had woken up and caught him staring at your panties, you probably would have taken them off and given them to him as a gift just to see his reaction. 
You were too curious to know why he felt that he had to sneak such a dirty photo of you and to this day, even after all that the two of you had done together - still kept that photo a secret. 
“I - I -” 
Mike’s whining stutters were cut off by the sound of the phone ringing. 
You heaved out a sigh and let go of him. On your way along to answer it, you shoved the photo into your purse, which was sitting open on his dresser. He was curious as to why you chose to keep it from him rather than destroying it. He heard your voice brightly from down the hall as you answered the phone and spoke to whoever it was on the other end, and he tattered with nerves as he heard you walking back down the hall. 
“Get dressed.” You barked at him when you reentered the bedroom. “We have to go pick Abby up. We’ll finish talking about this later.” 
Later. That certainly left a lovely slice of doom hanging over his head. 
You had your back turned to him, picking clothes out of the drawer he had cleared for you in his dresser (one step closer to you moving in, he had thought wistfully while moving your stuff into that drawer) - but this left one thing on his mind. 
“Okay.” Mike croaked quietly. “How should I-?” 
He trailed off, and you turned back around with a tee shirt and panties in your hand to see him loosely gripping his still hard cock, slowly beginning to touch himself again. 
You realized that he was asking you how he should finish off, and this caused a wave of spite to roll through you. He thought he still deserved to cum. 
“I didn’t say anything about your dick.” You said, tone harsh and biting. “You don’t get to cum right now. I said get dressed, so get dressed.” 
You dropped your towel casually, moving to get dressed for yourself. This caused a whine from him as your nakedness was once again revealed - something he had seen so many times now that still caused his cock to throb and weep precum, his eyes utterly fixated on the tantalizing sway of your breasts as you leaned down to hook your feet into the fresh panties you had picked out. 
Mike let out a breathy whine, but took his hand off his cock. He looked at you with utterly pleading eyes, clearly wanting you to reconsider - but you wouldn’t budge from the subject. When he didn’t make a move to get up from the bed, you said something that you knew would put some urgency in him. 
“Don’t make me get the cage.” You threatened quietly. 
Mike was up in a moment, moving toward the bathroom to freshen up, eager to follow your instructions. His dick ached at the thought of the cock cage that you had gotten just for him - it was one of the most torturous punishments you had thought up yet. Sometimes he spent whole days with his dick trapped in the metal, unable to get hard, absolutely dizzying - making him silently resent the key worn around your neck that everyone else perceived as an innocent piece of jewelry. 
The two of you got ready for the day and the conflict was soon forgotten when you had Abby in the car. You took her for lunch at some cute little diner that one of your friends had recommended - Sparky’s - and while you ate, you listened to Abby chatter on excitedly about everything she and her friend had done the night before, including ordering pizza, watching a PG13 rated movie (which Mike pretended to disapprove of), painting their nails, and staying up all night telling ‘scary stories’. You were proud of how far she had come, sharing her imagination and joy with others and having some true friends of her own age now. 
After lunch, you and Mike had taken Abby to get some new shoes because she complained that hers were getting too small, and then after some browsing around the mall, it was time to go home and make dinner (if it wasn’t for you, those two would rarely eat anything that wasn’t pre-packaged). After dinner, you helped Abby work on a solar system project for school while Mike napped on the couch (and you couldn’t blame the guy, he had a tiring time the night before). 
You had since put Abby to bed, and busied yourself with cleaning up, glad that Mike was still asleep while you did the dishes. It always pleased you when he slept well - one of the reasons you liked to wear him out with sex was because it was a more natural sleep aid than his medication, and caused him to have a deeper, dreamless sleep without the stupid nightmares. You were more focused on the tasks in front of you than thinking about any possible punishment you might give him over it. 
The fact that Mike had taken a pervy photo of you was all but forgotten in your mind even as you were cleaning up the kitchen later that night. 
The photo and the controversy, the burning questions you had about it only came back to mind as you were attempting to scrub a combination of dried glitter glue and pasta sauce off the table and you noticed Mike not-so-subtly creeping around behind you - attempting to reach into your purse. 
He was trying to take the photo back. 
You quickly tossed down the cloth you had been using to clean up and moved toward Mike instead. You were on him before he could blink, taking his wrist in a bruising grip before his hand could successfully come out of your purse with the photo. 
“What are you doing?” You asked, even though you already knew exactly what he was up to. 
With your thumb pushing harshly into the pulse point of his wrist, and your eyes glaring daggers into his - he was quickly becoming light-headed and soft, the way he always did whenever you were on top of him or when you called him baby boy in that fond, sweet way that you often did. He couldn’t conjure up any real explanation, not when he was feeling this way. 
All he could manage was: 
“But - it’s mine.” He breathed out softly, almost a whiny protest - as if you had taken one of his most precious toys and stashed it away because he had misbehaved. 
In a sense, that was exactly what you had done. 
You could only imagine how many times he had masturbated to the photo before you had caught him. How many times had he cum, looking at that picture of your barely covered ass and pussy before the two of you even got together? Before he even saw you naked for the first time? How many times did he make himself cum when that was his only source of sexual material for his fantasies around you? 
It was these burning questions and the thumping ache between your thighs that spurred your next move. 
You used your hold on his wrist to handle him how you pleased, knowing that a little bit of pain made him so easily pliant to your wills. You shoved him into the small kitchen and shoved him up against one of the counters, beside where your purse was sitting, and he huffed out a quiet whine as you trapped him there. You easily caged him in with one of your hands on either side of his waist, slotting your legs around his so that your thigh was right up against his denim clad crotch. 
You pressed forward slightly with your knee, applying a slight bit of pressure that might be painful on his tender cock and balls (especially after last night). But the roughness of the hard seam of his jeans pressing against his tender flesh, even through his underwear, only lit sparks through him and added to that soft, mushy headspace that he was in. 
He refused to look at you now, shifting his gaze off to the side as you pressed further into his personal space, pressing your nose against the side of his unshaven face. 
“It’s yours?” You posed in response to what he had said, your tone utterly mocking. “It’s yours, is it?” 
You reached off to the side and flawlessly grabbed the photo inside your bag without looking (the texture of a polaroid very unique to feel for) - and you held it up in his view, forcing him to look at it while you spoke again. 
“Then surely, you can explain to me how a good boy like you came to own something like this,” You said, your voice dripping with satire toward the ‘good boy’ title he had given himself earlier that day. 
“I’m sorry,” He whimpered, clearly apologetic about the subject. But- 
“That doesn’t explain how you got this, baby.” You told him, clicking your tongue in a scolding manner. “Come on, tell me about it.” 
You used a hand to grab him by both cheeks between your fingers, forcing him to look at you while he explained it. 
“I - I took it.” He admitted quietly. “I took a picture of you. When you weren’t looking. When you were… sleeping.” 
Again, something you already knew. But it was more satisfying to hear him say it, especially with the sharp bob of his throat as he gulped around his fear. 
“You just looked so pretty, I - I couldn’t help myself.” He whispered, clearly timid to admit his lack of self control. 
Though him lacking self control around you was an intense turn-on for you. 
“After everything I’ve given you, you just had to go and take. You had to be a greedy, filthy, bad boy,” You scolded him sharply. 
“It was different then.” He said quietly. “Then… I - I thought I couldn’t have you. I thought you wouldn’t give me anything at all. I - I didn’t think you’d ever want to fuck me.” 
“Oh?” You huffed quietly, your breath puffing out across his cheek, surprised by this revelation. “So you took this picture because you wanted a filthy little piece of me? You didn’t think I’d ever touch your pathetic needy cock so you had to perv on me in secret, huh?” 
He let out a sharp whine at this. It was rare that you degraded him so harshly, rather than praising him sweetly. Surely enough, even if it was unconsciously fueled by lust, his hips bucked toward you, dragging his cock along your thigh, still trapped inside of his jeans and rapidly hardening from the state of the conversation. 
“Look, I’m sorry-” 
“If you say ‘sorry’, one more time, I’m gonna spank you so fucking hard that you won’t be able to sit down for a week.” You threatened, your voice low and dark. 
He let out a whimper at this, and you weren’t entirely sure if the idea appealed to him or sounded like a true threat. He didn’t tempt you by speaking up again, so you continued. 
“Enough with the sorries.” You told him sharply. “How many times did you jack off to this picture without telling me? How often did you look at it, touching your hard, needy dick and thinking about what my cunt might feel like? Huh? Tell me, baby.” 
Mike jutted his hips again, grinding his hard cock against your thigh. 
“Please-” He croaked out. 
Clearly, he was begging for you to release him from the conversation, and to attend to his aching dick. But you didn’t have plans to do either. 
“If you want me to touch you again anytime soon, you’re going to get off against my thigh.” You demanded harshly. “Or you’re not going to get off at all.” 
Mike let out a pathetic, warbling whine in protest, sounding a lot like a kicked puppy. But still, he began to move more consistently against your leg - you stiffened your muscles on purpose and raised your thigh tighter against him, pushing your leg further into his crotch. This movement forced a puff of air from his lungs as you put more pressure on his hard cock. 
“And you’re going to answer my questions.” You added on, reaching behind him and grabbing his hair like you had earlier that day, knowing that a tight tug on his roots would certainly make him more pliant. 
“Ah! O-okay!” He shouted in return, and you hushed him gently. 
“When were you gonna tell me that you’re a dirty little pervert?” You asked, a mocking laughter dancing in your voice. 
Mike started up a rhythm as he fucked himself on your thigh. He whined in the back of his throat, his brow creasing - partially from the heat stirring in his gut and partially from the embarrassment of your interrogation - before he managed an answer. 
“I - I wasn’t.” He answered honestly. 
“How many other secret pervy pictures do you have of me?” You asked. 
“N-none!” He was quick to respond, eager to clear himself of this guilt. 
He definitely wasn’t going to tell you about the pair of your panties that he had stolen the first time he was over at your place. He also wasn’t going to mention the fact that he had snooped in your bathroom to see what brand of shampoo you used and bought the same one just so he could have your scent on tap. He didn’t need you thinking that he was totally pathetic.  
“Don’t lie to me!” You demanded, giving a sharp tug on his hair. 
“‘m not! I’m not! That’s the only one!” He slurred out, becoming more hazy and pleasure drunk as he ground himself harder into your thigh and his cock leaked into his underwear. His brain was absolutely fuzzy from the streaks of pain coming off his scalp when you pulled on his hair like that. 
“How many times have you jerked off to the picture?” You asked. 
More than once a week since he had taken it. It was his favorite guilty pleasure. 
Earlier that day, he hadn’t even meant to take out the photo and jerk off to it. He had been more than satisfied with everything that happened the night before. But when he had opened his nightstand looking for his watch to put it on for the day, and the photo fell from its place stuck underneath the drawer (a perfect hiding place, in his mind). And just like when he had taken the photo, as soon as he saw you so perfectly posed there, he just couldn’t help himself. The sight of your panties sticking out from under your dress just got to him. 
His cock was hard in seconds and next thing he knew, he was sitting there pumping his cock in one hand and holding the picture in the other, listening for the sound of the shower running and hoping he would finish before you did. 
Something about you was so absolutely intoxicating to him, sent his brain back to caveman levels of hormonal and caused him to make the stupidest dick-driven decisions ever. 
“Mommy,” He begged quietly. “Mommy, please.” 
Your stomach clenched - it was a name he used in an attempt to soften you up, trying to make you pliant to his big eyes and whimpering breaths. 
He grabbed both of your hips and tried shoving his face into your neck to hide himself as his hips stuttered against your leg, humping hopelessly like a needy puppy. You yanked him back by the hair before he could fully hide himself and he exhaled in a needy, simpering tone, deflating like a balloon as his shoulders sagged. For a moment, he stopped the movement of his hips altogether - as if expecting you to take over in some way and make him cum. 
“Mommy is only sweet to good boys.” You whispered in his ear. “Mommy punishes dirty little bad boys who can’t take their head out of their dick long enough to behave.” 
He squeezed out a hot breath, seemingly deflating more. You used your free hand to grab his hip, and began guiding him to hump along your thigh once again. 
“Come on, baby.” You encouraged him. “If you don’t cum like this, you don’t get to come for a week.” You gave a gentle warning. “Are you gonna be a good boy? Or are you a stupid little perv? Hmm?” 
The harsh degradation behind your words, the motivation for him to be seen as a good boy in your eyes - that truly got him going again. 
“I’m a good boy.” He said quietly, fucking himself against you, moaning quietly as the friction caused sharp tingles against his cock. “I’m - I’m a good boy.” 
“Show me.” You told him firmly. “Show me what a good boy does.” 
“Please,” He breathed out. “Fuck, Mommy. Please!” 
You knew that he needed more, and you did pity him to an extent - so you gave another tug on his hair and slipped your other hand under the back of his shirt, raking your nails across his back, making claw marks that you knew he loved. The stinging feeling of your nails biting into his skin causing pure sparks that sent heat straight between his thighs. When you leaned in and sharply bit his neck, that truly sent him over the edge, causing him to lose all sense of rhythm and having him bucking wildly, mindlessly against your thigh as he flooded the inside of his underwear with cum. 
“Fuck! Y/N!” He shouted. 
“Shut up!” You bit back. 
You stood back up to your full height, shoving your fingers between his lips to gag him. You knew that you had to be mindful of his volume when she was so deep in it, so absolutely lost in the pleasurable haze that he didn’t care how loud he was being. 
He rode out his orgasm gagging slightly with your fingers pressed against his tongue, his eyes tightly screwed shut, a light sweat gathered on his brow as he continued to hump against your leg, carrying himself through it. 
After a few moments, Mike’s rattling moans turned into harsh, open-mouthed pants around your fingers as he caught his breath, and you eased your fingers out of his mouth, enjoying the thread of spit that came off his lips far too much. 
When he collapsed his head onto your shoulder this time, you let him. 
“You’re - you’re not really mad about the picture, are you?” He asked, gently huffing the words into your shirt as he struggled to catch his breath. “Because if-” 
“I’m not mad about it.” You clarified, moving your hand from under his shirt to pet through his hair calmly, wanting to reassure him of this. “In fact, I think it’s pretty hot.” 
“Really?” He asked, his gaze shooting up to inspect your expression, almost not believing your words. Even though you were always very honest and transparent when communicating your feelings to him. 
“Yes.” You answered honestly. “I think it’s hot that you found me so attractive from the moment we met.” 
“‘Attractive’ is a bit of an understatement.” He mumbled quietly in response. 
Interesting.
581 notes · View notes
jaylver · 6 months
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YOU BELONG WITH ME — Y.JW
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synopsis: The boy next door was practically everyone’s dream. Straight As and top of his class, basketball captain, popular kid with a heart of gold, who wouldn’t want him? Yang Jungwon happened to be him, your childhood best friend who you’ve been pining for almost forever. But how could you compete when you were the complete opposite of his girlfriend? Except that you’ve been there in his life all along, the one who understood most. All you could think was: you belong with me.
pairings: non-idol!jungwon x afab!reader
genre: childhood best friends to lovers, boy next door + athlete jungwon, romance, very very slight angst, fluff
warning(s): profanities, both are kinda idiots xx
wc: 3445
a/n: yes, this is based on tswift's you belong with me song + mv 💓 (please tell me you're not sick of me and tay atp) tbh this was originally a hee fic (idk why he always inspires a lot of fics for me LMAO) but i wanted to change it up! hope you enjoyed it! please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah muah!
masterlist | © jaylver all rights reserved.
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You were down bad. 
That wasn’t a statement, it was a fact.
Nothing could simply hide the fact that you were down bad and feral for your neighbour. Yes, you heard that right, the neighbour. And no, your neighbour doesn’t happen to be someone who was on the edge of deathbed kind of old, but he was, in fact, the same age as you, which didn’t help the ample amount of delusions that you could actually get him. 
Yang Jungwon. 
He wasn’t just an average boy next door, he was your childhood friend, who you knew since he moved in when you were six. Naturally, his mum and yours became buddies and it was a big factor in pulling you two together. As you grew older, you and him got closer and were practically stuck to the hip. The downside of highschool and Jungwon looking as though he was personally carved by Greek Gods was that he got popular instantly, while you, on the other hand, was regarded as a simpleton. 
To be fair, you get it. Jungwon was a smart guy other than his obvious charming features and particularly those dimples. Gosh. He was a perfect straight As student, a student loved by teachers and his peers. What made him even alluring was his athletic abilities as well. Wasn’t it just cruel to others to be absolutely blessed both academically and athletically? Captain of the basketball team who’ve won many championships and tournaments. Right, you finally understand why you’ve got to fight other girls for him. 
High School was hell. Being splitted into either the popular kids or the nerdy kids, you happen to be stuck in the middle. Jungwon was off with his popular bunch and you were with Sim Ja Yun, or Yoon, your platonic soulmate that you found equally dying in Maths class. Without her, you were never surviving this hell hole. 
You would be lying if you said you didn’t miss hanging out with Jungwon. Now that you were in two different friend groups, you only got to see him after school or during the weekends. But at least there was a fun part to it, considering how his window faced yours and you two ended up creating this new way of communicating where you would write on either a whiteboard or a piece of paper.
There were ‘how are you’s and ‘good’s and some random rants, most of these ended up being something sentimental to look back to, and they were piled up in a small section in your drawer. 
“Did you hear? Jungwon’s dating that popular cheerleader,” Yoon nudged your side, whispering quietly as you two made your way to Chemistry. 
“Wonyoung?” you exclaimed, a shocked look on your face. 
Jang Wonyoung, the cheer captain of the school, an equivalent of Regina George that practically ran the school without saying. She was the total opposite of you: she wore short skirts, you wore t-shirts; she was cheer captain, you were on the bleachers; she wore high heels, you wore sneakers. How cliche could this be? Of course it had to be the cheer captain and the basketball captain that got together.
Yoon nodded. “Out of everyone, it had to be her. She’s literally known to be a serial cheater.”
Jungwon deserved better. That was all you could think during the entirety of Chemistry. Why didn’t he tell me? Was this new? Countless thoughts filled your mind till the point you swore you were seeing stars. At the end of the day, you concluded it was none of your business, seemingly reaching ‘acceptance’ in the five stages of grief. Maybe this was an actual sign for you to finally stop harbouring a small teeny liking towards Jungwon. Just maybe.
Sitting by the window and staring out into the dark skies completely distracted you from the fact that Jungwon had entered his bedroom right opposite your window. He was the phone, face twisted and expressions screaming out the signs that things didn’t seem to be well. He was yelling something back before hanging up with a sigh and a frustrated ruffle of his hair. 
It took a few minutes for him to recollect himself before regaining composure completely. You pretended you didn’t see the whole commotion when he sat on his bed, facing towards you and your window, casting you a smile and waving at you, to which you reciprocated. You couldn’t help noticing the disappointment on his face.
You reached over for your notepad, scribbling on it quickly.
‘You okay?’
His face instantly lit up, beaming happily, contrary to the expression from a minute ago. 
It was his turn to write something down on his notepad.
‘Tired of drama.’
You then wrote your reply.
‘Sorry :(’ 
He shrugged, shaking his head slightly. You wished you could do something to help, but simply, there was nothing.
‘I like—’
You found yourself writing those words of confession unknowingly, as if your hands knew what your mind constantly thought of. You didn’t even finish writing it, you couldn’t. By the time you glanced up, Jungwon was gone and a shade of blue covered his window.
Well, there goes another chance.
It might’ve been a typical Tuesday night, but that wasn’t stopping you from staying up and acting insane. You were lying in bed, staring at the ceiling with your headphones plugged in. The late night was calm and peaceful, no schoolwork, no trouble, no crush to mull over about, you were finally alone and at peace. The upbeat songs blasting into your ears had you jumping from your bed and dancing around, feeling as if you were the only one in the world.
But you weren’t the only one. 
Unbeknownst to you, Jungwon was by his window secretly looking at your dancing figure who mimicked a singer, a smile on his face.
If only you knew.
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Sitting alone in your own front yard shouldn’t sound as depressing as it was. 
You thought the best self healing method was getting in touch with nature like what those magazines had claimed, but it was only making you seem pathetic to people that drove past. Plus, how could you achieve peace when the person who destroyed it countless times was walking in your direction towards you.
“Hey, hey,” Jungwon greeted, dressed in his worn-out jeans and a white t-shirt.
“Hi,” you replied, patting the empty spot next to you.
“You’re reading ‘Pride and Prejudice’?” he wondered as he sat down, catching a glimpse of the book in your hand.
“I’m pretending to read, but I’d like to say that I am,”
Jungwon laughed in amusement, shaking his head. “Well, I’ll pretend to be impressed,” his dimpled smile never leaving, which persisted in tormenting you, because how could anyone look like that.
He’s got a smile that could light up this whole town. Hell, he was the sun that shone over your measly sad town. The light of your life and the happy pill of everyone else’s life. 
It was just a shame that you hadn’t seen it in a while ever since his girlfriend has brought him down. Even though he has reassured you that he was fine many times before whenever you asked, you could tell he wasn’t fully truthful, you know him better than that. 
Speaking of his girlfriend, Wonyoung soon pulled up by his house, and he had to eventually say goodbye to you too. Staring at the sight of them being close simply had your stomach turning and twisting, especially when she herself probably knew that you were secretly pining after him. Were you that transparent? Who cares?
As they drove off, you felt your grip on your book loosen, your heart equally dropping. 
Hey, whatcha doing with a girl like that?
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It was one of the most important times in the school calendar. 
No, not exams. The national basketball competition. 
You weren’t a big sports fan, but somehow, this tournament would always rope you in every year, mainly because of the influence around you too. Exhibit A, Jungwon. But other than him, your friends were constant supporters of the school’s basketball team, not to mention, the atmosphere every year would go insane.
The game against the rival school was something you couldn’t and wouldn’t miss. Well, you didn’t have a choice either way. Being in the band team meant you were spending most of your time on the bleachers. Sigh.
On game day, you were there at the basketball court earlier than the scheduled time for final preparations, helping your bandmates around and idling boredly. You didn’t realise someone sneaking up on you until you heard your name being called, startling you and almost had you dropping an instrument. 
“Jungwon?”
“Hey,” he was in his practice gear, basketball trainers in his hand. “Didn’t mean to scare you. How’s the performance for tonight?”
“I’m hoping it’ll go well,” you said honestly, feeling uneasy under his intense stare. “I’m hoping your game goes good too,”
“Thank you,” he smiled, and there it was, his dimples. One look and it had you lightheaded. You couldn’t believe he had this effect on you still. “Will you finally treat me to some of your signature cupcakes again if we win?”
“I’ll consider it,”
“Great,” he beamed, a pleased and confident smirk replacing that sweet smile. “I’ll make sure to win it for you then,”
How could he say that and casually bid you goodbye after? Has he got no regard for your sanity whatsoever? 
His words continuously occupied your head even when your performance ended and the game started, your focus only trained on his running figure. The score was narrow, time was ticking and Jungwon had one target in mind, dashing towards the hoop and shooting the ball into it. That was the winning point and there was no doubt that the home team had won. You and your bandmates got up cheering, yelling and giving each other’s high fives. You were proud.
The cheerleaders by the court were cheering as well and doing their routine. The sight of Wonyoung caught your attention, her gaze was not on her boyfriend, but on another player. What? 
Once the game had ended, the team stayed on court celebrating. You were still on the bleachers, so all you could do was observe the scene unfolding below. Jungwon approached Wonyoung, but what you failed to notice was her standing with the player you saw her eyeing earlier. A fight broke out, a sour expression on Jungwon’s face, betrayal evident. It didn’t take long before he stormed away.
Oh no.
Upon returning home, tired and drained, you saw Jungwon in his room by the window, head hung low staring at his phone. At first, you didn’t know whether to get his attention and ‘talk’ or rather stay silent, but how could you when he seemed like a sad sappy kitten. So, you sent him a text, prompting him to stare up.
‘Hope you’re ok’ you wrote on your notepad.
He gave you a small smile, scribbling something down and holding his notepad up after,
‘I think I am? Whatever :/’
‘I’m here if you need to talk.’
‘Thanks :) you’re the best.’
‘I know’
He laughed at your response, but you continued on.
‘Congrats on your win! Super proud.’
‘Thank you! Does that mean I get my cupcakes now?’
You rolled your eyes, feigning an angry look. 
‘Fine >:(’
‘Sweeet. Talk tomorrow? We both need a rest.’
You nodded, and with a last wave from him, he closed his curtains and you did the same. It was obvious he didn’t want to talk about the clear fight from earlier and you didn’t want to push him either, but the sadness in his eyes told you he wasn’t getting over that easily.
Can’t he see that you were the one who understands him?
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Prom, the day you dreaded. 
You were adamant on not attending initially, but the convincing from Yoon and your other friends had you eventually caving in. Poor you.
It wasn't like there was no one out there who asked you, you were actually just a great friend who agreed to go with them instead. Besides, men scared you, mostly the ones you didn't know. Not Jungwon, he's an exception, or maybe you were biased.
Once you were done getting ready in your bedroom, you opened your window curtains out of reflex and with purpose, gazing out. There was Jungwon, in his sleek black suit and tie, looking like a graceful prince. Abort, abort, abort—
Too late.
Upon seeing him noticing your figure by your window, it was too late to flee or hide. So, you waved at him, taking your notepad along.
'You look great!'
He smiled once he saw your writing, seemingly relieved and less tensed up.
'Thanks! You're beautiful in that dress. I love it on you.'
You're praying he didn't notice the slight tinge of scarlet on your cheeks from a distance away. Well, unless he has great vision. 
Shaking your feelings and thoughts away, you wrote your last message since it was time to leave soon. 
'I need to leave soon :( see you tonight?'
He nodded, writing swiftly before showing it.
'Yes! Will see you soon. Have fun :)'
Having fun isn't exactly the expression you would precisely describe how you felt at that hour. 
Alright, you found it dumb to get slightly jealous over the fact that Jungwon was with his girlfriend tonight, but you couldn't help mulling over it. You just wanted him, but why couldn't he see that?
Or maybe … you didn't know that he does.
Jungwon, on the other hand, was in the men's restroom, washing his face over and over again. He needed to think.
Breaking up with Wonyoung after the whole fiasco at the basketball game had affected him. Although a month and a half seemed like a  short time, it was still a relationship anyway, wasn't it? That's besides the point here.
Jungwon realised he liked you. 
He found it douchey especially when he had just gotten out of a relationship, he didn't want you to think that you're some rebound, but he ended up realising his true feelings. Gosh, couldn't the timing be any better?
His childhood friend, number one supporter since the start, you were the one he was in love with, and it was ridiculous he had to go through a long while just to find out his actual thoughts and feelings. It seemed unfair to you.
Rather impulsively, he hit the 'send' button on his message app, asking for you to meet him outside the hotel. 
Waiting for him to arrive was nerve-wracking for you. Having not seen him almost the entire night and now he had sent an ominous message to top it all off, it simply didn't come off as nonchalant as he intended it to be.
"Hi," you greeted as he made his way towards you. 
"Hey," his eyes scanned your figure, taking in the sight of you in the prettiest dress, one that complimented you to the brim.
"You … wanted to see me?"
"Oh," a gear clicked in Jungwon's mind. Seeing you had completely malfunctioned him and he almost forgot the task at hand. "Right. This is going to sound in–insane but, here me out,"
"Okay?" 
"I like you," 
He likes … you?
Were you tripping or was that genuinely what he'd said? 
"I'm so stupid for not realising sooner. You were always there for me, since we were kids till now. At my basketball practices and competitions, I can spot you in the crowd easily, you're the shining star. Whenever you're playing by the bleachers, I wish I could just run to you. I like you, Y/N, I do,"
Every word was filled with pent up frustration and love, unaware how much he has been pushing back until now. But what concerned him most was your quietness.
"Y/N?"
You blinked, instead it was your turn to malfunction. "I like you too," those words came out pouring naturally, as if you were built for it, fully ready and prepared. "Wait!"
Your exclamation had him jumping up in shock, startling him and catching him off guard.
"I broke it off with her. A–and before you think I'm trying to replace you with her or anything, I'm not. Just wanted to make it clear," he said quickly, almost slurring, clearly panicked. “We can take it slow, don’t need to rush into anything, all it matters is you knowing,”
“I’d like that,” you fiddled with your fingers, nervousness eating you up from within. “I–uh–can I kiss you?”
Where did that come from?
Jungwon flushed a shade of red, coughing from shock. Your eyes widened in horror at his reaction, waving your arms frantically. “It’s okay if you don’t want to! I’m sorry, I don’t know what got over me—”
“I–I do want to kiss you,” he rushed his words out, sounding in a hurry. He was just as whipped as you. 
You smiled, and that was all it took before you grabbed his tie, pulling him in to lock your lips with his.
It was magical. The feeling was something you’ve anticipated since forever, living up to those scenes you’ve seen in your favourite rom coms and having you giddy. His kiss was gentle but desperate, palms resting against the back of your neck and cheek, pulling you in for a deeper kiss. 
You drove him insane. The cherry chapstick he could taste on his tongue, the touch of your lips against his, never in a million years had he imagined himself in this exact scenario, usually he expected himself to fumble, but he was glad he didn’t. He wished the night would never end, and so did you.
Reluctantly so, you eventually pulled away from him, both of you having your breaths taken away and breathing deeply. Even though it was silent, no words even exchanged for a while, you found yourself basking in his presence and taking in the moment. Then, you broke out into a giddy smile, giggling out of nowhere.
Jungwon couldn’t help but be infected by you, smiling along and laughing. There it was, his smile, his dimples, the crinkles by his eyes. Everything about him was surreal to you, whatever happened tonight seemed surreal as a whole. 
“Can I take you home?”
“Of course you can.”
That night, you made sure to have him waiting outside your front yard as you ran in looking like cinderella dashing out of the ball, dashing towards the kitchen to fetch what you had promised. Cupcakes.
“I’ve made them,” you presented the cupcakes in all their glory, each decorated prettily and cutely. 
“You remembered!” he stared at them in awe, then looked back at you with the same expression. “Thank you, really,”
“It’s no biggie,” 
You passed him a reassuring smile, one that he responded back with a small grin. He glanced at his wrist watch for a second, then pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “It’s late, I’m sure you’re tired, and I still have to drive the car into the garage,”
“Right,” you laughed at his car parked half-assed by the sidewalk, luckily no passing car was present. “Goodnight, Won,”
“Goodnight, Y/N. I had a lot of fun tonight with you. I’m glad you were there,”
“Me too.”
Back in your room, you were done washing up and getting ready for bed, looking out your window as it has become a habit by now. Surprisingly,  Jungwon’s light was still switched on, and you had thought he was sound asleep by now, but guess he wasn’t. 
Speaking of him, he came crashing into your sight not even a minute later, notepad in hand and a cheeky smile that told you he had a plan up his sleeve. He stood right in front of the window, directly across your room, then held up the notepad in hand.
‘Be mine?’
This guy …
You grabbed your notepad, writing down the obvious answer, a lovesick smile that he never failed to put on your face. 
‘Yes!! Duh!!’
He let out a laugh at your response, but said nothing more, acting out a sleeping gesture to signal you to sleep soon and that he himself was also off to bed. You only nodded, but before bidding one another goodbye, he blew you a kiss.
You rolled your eyes at his playfulness, blowing one back and waving him goodnight, both of you unwilling to close the curtains and go to bed.
Either way, you were going to bed that night with peace and love in your mind, because finally, he belonged to you.
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foli-vora · 1 year
Text
gilded lily
pre/during-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader
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a/n: gif by moi. just me over here clowning around and hurting my own feelings lmaoo. we start off soft af, and then it all goes downhill very fast so enjoy the angst-fest! x
word count: 2.6k
warnings: brief mentions of potential pregnancy, graphic violence, blood/gore, violent murder (does it count as murder if they're a zombie? lmao), infected characters, heartbreak, mourning, angst angst angst - don't like, don't read. this does not have a happy ending.
note: this follows the general direction of the outbreak and how it unfolds in the show, it's not identical, but i'll still put a spoiler warning so yeah - consider yourself warned.
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It’s a low buzz, a barely there ringing in your ears, settling in the background and never wavering despite your efforts to clean your ears and pop them. It draws your attention for most of the early morning you spend awake before the others, and it’s not until a body suddenly steps in the way of you staring vacantly at your reflection in the bathroom mirror that you even notice other things are going on.
Your eyes come to focus on Joel who stares at you expectantly, his brows raised at your silence.
“Oh, hi—sorry, what did you say?”
“You’re a bit spacy today… you feelin’ okay?” He mumbles around his toothbrush, his body brushing against yours as he leans back on the sink to face you.
A frown starts to pull at your features.
No, you’re not.
Something is definitely not right with the way you’re feeling, but you’re unable to put a proper label as to what. The flu? Food poisoning? All options that don’t seem to fit your particular… oddness.
“I don’t… I don’t know.”
Your obvious struggle catches Joel’s attention and he’s quick to spit the frothy toothpaste from his mouth, washing it down the sink drain with a quick splash of water before turning his full attention on you.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t—” you pause, staring deep into his dark eyes before letting your frown disappear and forcing a little smile, “—it’s nothing. I’m fine. Really, baby, it’s nothing.”
You aren’t going to do anything that could potentially disturb his birthday—you’d been looking forward to it for weeks. An assortment of wrapped presents hide away in the bottom of the dresser, and you know Sarah’s been buzzing to give him his watch you both had taken to get fixed a week prior.
His mouth opens, no doubt to give you a sharp word about closing him out, but Sarah soon appears in the doorway with a warm good morning and the subject is left at that. You tread after her down the stairs, leaving Joel to scowl lightly at your back as he follows along behind.
Tommy appears just as you’re serving up breakfast, his full plate already waiting in your hand. His grin widens as he gives you a sweet kiss hello on your cheek before snatching the plate with an amused, “Am I that obvious?”
“You don’t want me to answer that,” you reply cheekily, your wide smile faltering when you struggle to open the bottle of pain relief.
“You okay?” He asks around a mouthful of eggs, eyeing the pills you pop into your mouth and swallow down with a mouthful of orange juice.
“Yeah, just not feeling the best today.”
“Are you pregnant?” He asks blankly, picking at the food on his plate as his eyes dart to your stomach.
His question immediately perks Joel’s interest, his hand holding the coffee pot hanging suspended over his mug as he shoots you a look from the corner of his eyes. His thoughts are plain as day—shit… are you?
Sarah perks at the table, the excitement already creeping into her features and you’re quick to cut in before she could get too ahead of herself.
“No,” you chuckle, poking Tommy’s side, “but thank you for the early morning freak out.”
Joel makes a little noise of thought, his rasp coming from around the mug he presses to his lips, “Would it be so bad if you were?”
“I don’t know,” you murmur softly, unable to keep a smile tugging at your cheeks, “would it?”
He shrugs, the barely there trace of a smirk playing along his lips as he nurses his coffee, “I wouldn’t have a problem with it.”
Tommy pipes up with a comment, his voice thick and far away, morphing in your ears until a shrill sound fills your mind, piercing your senses.
That goddamn ringing.
A wince pinches your features and you rub at your temples, willing the ache slowly building there to dissipate. A numb tingle grows over your fingertips, merely intensifying when you rub them together to will some feeling back into the pads.
“Honey?”
Snapping out of a sudden trance like state, you blink wildly as your eyes refocus on Joel and how he’s suddenly in front of you.
Heavy frown deepening, his hands come to cup your cheeks, tilting your head up and side to side. He studies your eyes, noting the strangely vacant look swirling in them and how you seem to struggle finding words.
Sarah shares his concern, stepping up next to him and curling a warm hand around yours.
��Dad, maybe you should take her to the hospital—”
“Yeah… yeah, I think I will. Baby, could you go get her jacket—”
“Don’t be silly,” you breathe, shaking your head and fighting the fog creeping along the corners of your mind. “I’m not sitting in the ER on your birthday, and besides you guys have a lot of work to do today. It’s probably a migraine, or something—I’ll just sleep it off.”
Tommy doesn’t seem all that convinced, his frown mirroring his brothers as he looks at you from over Joel’s shoulder.
“Are you sure? Coz you don’t look too good—work can always wait.”
“I’ll be fine,” you grin, delivering a firm smack to Joel’s ass, “you’re gonna be late—off you go, birthday boy. The sooner you go, the sooner you can come back and get your birthday presents.”
Joel’s jaw tightens, “You call me if anything changes, y’hear?”
Nothing changes, but nothing gets better.
You call into work after dropping Sarah off at school, explaining your sudden illness and confusion quickly forming when they say you’re not the first—a few of your co-workers had called in also. Something’s going around, they say.
There are reports everywhere.
The day passes quickly with you sleeping on the couch, hoping that whatever is plaguing you will pass by the time Joel gets home from his double. You wake to find Sarah hovering over you with a glass of water and a smile that barely hides her worry.
“How are you feeling?” She asks quietly, helping you sit up and tucking herself into the couch next to you.
“Better,” you lie, the smile on your lips forced.
If she doesn’t believe you, she doesn’t make it known. 
You spend the evening cuddled with her on the couch, barely focusing on the shows that come and go. Time blurs together, the hours melding and dragging.
Somewhere inside of you, you feel something’s wrong. Badly wrong. Something’s not right. You start to twitch, random muscles in your body jumping at the most random of times.
At one point, Sarah pulls away from where she cuddles into your side, her obvious worry deepening with your increasingly erratic movements.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I just—I must’ve trapped a nerve, or something,” you murmur through numb lips, watching the way your fingers and hand twitch almost as if through a skewed, blurry lens before giving the limb a little shake and smiling. “I’m fine.”
You’re not fine. You can feel it everywhere. Something’s happening. Where the fuck is Joel?
Everything is fucked.
People are being attacked everywhere, people are dying everywhere. Just getting slaughtered, right in the middle of the fucking street.
It’s mayhem.
It’s terrifying and he doesn’t have a chance to truly process the emotion. It makes no sense, no damn sense, but he doesn’t bother to stop and think about it. He can’t. He needs to move, you all need to move and get the fuck out of town.
Joel bursts through the front door, echoes of jets and explosions and sirens sounding in the distance behind him, his face set in rigid determination. He should never have worked so fucking late. 
“Girls, come on—” he roars, hoping the boom of his voice startles you both from sleep, “—in the truck, now!”
Sarah’s asleep and sprawled over the couch when he passes by the lounge, and he immediately goes for her, curling his fingers tightly around her shoulder and giving her a firm shake.  
“Baby? Baby, wake up—” 
Sarah blinks languidly, her face pinched and disorientated, but the sleep hanging in her eyes evaporates when a sudden explosion rattles the house. Her hands fly to clutch his arms, eyes now wide and filled with terror, darting to the window.
“What’s going on?!”
“Come on, we gotta go, baby, get up.”
She follows immediately, her hand not leaving his as he drags her outside. Tommy stands guard by the running truck, desperately trying to pull his lips into some sort of encouraging smile, but it comes across more as a grimace.
“What’s happening?” Sarah asks again, pausing when a familiar sound catches her attention. “Mercy? Mercy, here boy!”
Joel’s jaw tenses, his hands becoming increasingly more urgent as they shove her towards the vehicle, ignoring the frightened dog that bounds over to answer her familiar call.
“Sarah, get in the fuckin’ truck—”
“What about Mercy? We can’t just leave him outside, and what about—”
Tommy holds a calming hand out, his grip tightening on his rifle, “Joel’ll get her, and I’ll take him back, just get in—”
“You keep her in the truck!” Joel yells at his brother, turning away from them and running back towards the house, slamming his way through the front door, roaring your name again and again. He takes the stairs two at a time, marching straight for the bedroom only to discover you aren’t there.
Where the hell are you?
“Come on, honey, we gotta move—!”
A thud.
He spins for the bathroom, noticing the slither of light from under the door and immediately advancing towards it, hand reaching for the handle.
Locked.
He rattles it, hoping the weak thing would cave like it’s done so many times before. He knocks harshly when it holds firm, calling out your name, but a weight hitting the door sends panic through his system.
A weakened groan sounds through the timber and he shakes the handle again, his face creasing with worry. He doesn’t have a lot of time, none of you have a lot of time. He forces his shoulder up against the door and it soon gives way, shoving something heavy out of the way and slamming against the tiles.
“Honey, come—”
He stops, eyes finally taking in the form in front of him.
It’s you, but it’s not.
Ice creeps along his shoulders, hardening around his heart and sinking to the pit of his stomach. There’s something wild about your expression, an almost animalistic curl to your features. Your eyes have lost their usual warmth, their sparkle, now they’re feral, and locked right onto him. 
God no, not you.
“Honey, baby,” he utters, stepping back and desperately willing, praying, for the unfolding situation to change in front of his eyes, “it’s me—I can’t… god, don’t make me do this. Please wake up. Show me you’re there, do somethin’—“
A guttural cry that barely sounds human tears its way out of your mouth and you lunge for him, hands poised ready to grab onto him. He evades your attack and dives into Sarah’s room, swiping one of her participation trophies from her drawers and barely able to turn before a weight hits his side and takes him down to the floor.
He curls a hand tightly around your throat, keeping your rabid, snarling face away from his and strikes. The marble base of the award meets your skull with a sickening crunch, but he doesn’t stop, his arm soon aching from the brutal force he puts behind each hit and causing blood to rain down over his face. He doesn’t stop until he feels the strength behind your hands vanish. 
The sticky red substance coats the trophy and he lets out a sob as your body falls to the floor in an unmoving heap beside him. He throws the makeshift weapon away from him as his chest heaves, the heavy thud of it hitting the floor suddenly so loud in the now still house, and rolls onto his side, taking in your still form before carefully crawling closer.
He reaches out, placing a trembling hand against the part of your bloodied face he could see through the destruction, sick at how cold you feel and the way your thick blood coats his skin. His thumb brushes over your cheek, tracing the swollen veins lying beneath and he chokes on a cry.
“I’m so—fuck, honey, I-I’m so sorry—”
Remorse rolls through him in waves until it fills every vein, runs along every nerve. He should’ve been here. He should’ve done something. Was there even anything he could have done? Could he have saved you from any pain? Were you alone and scared? What were your last thoughts? Did you know what was happening? Is that why you were locked away?
“Joel?!” Tommy shouts from somewhere in the house, and it’s enough to tear him away from your body and the grief overwhelming him.
“Don’t let her up here!” He yells back, listening to Tommy quickly stop Sarah from climbing the stairs.
She couldn’t see this. She couldn’t remember you like this, mangled and bleeding out on her bedroom floor where you both had spent so much time reading over magazines, painting each other's nails and giggling over shitty TV shows. He wouldn’t let those memories be stained with the blood of the mother she had found so much comfort in, tainted by the monster that had become of her.
He takes one final look at you, smoothing a hand along your hairline and avoiding the caved in shattered bone only a few centimetres from his touch. Nausea rolls through him, hot acid bile rising in the back of his throat as he backs away from your body and stands on unsteady legs.
His hand flies out to rest against the wall as he stumbles back, eyes not leaving your twisted features and broken body. Eventually you fade from view once he rounds the corner and he turns for the stairs, his heart thundering in his chest.
Sarah sees him first, Tommy busy eyeing the windows and keeping his weapon at the ready.
“Is she sick?” She asks, noticing the obvious emptiness behind him.
Joel feels his shoulders deflate, stepping down the final steps and giving a solemn nod, “Yeah. Yeah, she was.”
The use of past tense brings a thick wave of emotion over his daughter's face, and his broken heart shatters even more. He tries to wipe the blood, your blood, from his hands, dragging them down the legs of his jeans and it catches her attention, her face creasing with anguish.
“You killed her,” she mumbles, tears filling her lash line as her eyes dart across his face.
He swallows the thick pressure in his throat, ignoring the look of sympathy his brother gives him and steps up to his daughter, holding back his own tears as hers spill over her cheeks.
“I did,” he returns quietly, “I did. I’m so sorry, baby—”
She softens when he reaches for her, his arms tightening around her and squeezing. Her lower lips wobbles with the effort of keeping her emotions at bay, her fingers tightening around his shirt as he curls around her. She shakes in his hold.
“The Adler’s were sick, too,” she whimpers into his shoulder, “are we sick?”
“No baby. No, we’re not sick,” Joel pulls away, cupping her cheek with a sticky hand and keeping his gaze steady with hers, “but we’ve gotta be brave, okay? We’re gonna be fine, but we’ve got to go.”
“We shouldn’t leave her behind—” she whimpers quietly, another stream of tears falling down her cheeks.
“We have to, baby girl. We have to, I... I’m not gonna lose you, too.”
-
everything pp: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80​, @danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21​, @eri16​, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes​, @ezrasbirdie​, @mstgsmy​, @lovesbiggerthanpride​, @coaaster​, @sherala007​, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44​, @wyn-n-tonic​, @you-got-me-starry-eyed​, @shirks-all-responsibilities​, @withasideofmeg​, @harriedandharassed​, @andruxx​, @buckybarneshairpullingkink​, @spideysimpossiblegirl​, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future​, @tanzthompson​, @mad-girl-without-a-box​, @hope-for-the-best-98​, @fangirl-316​, @christina-loves​, @jediknight122​, @hallway5​, @xoxabs88xox​, @nicolethered​, @churchill356​, @massivecolorspygiant​, @just-here-for-the-moment​, @gracie7209​, @pinkie289​, @lavenderluna10​, @goodgriefitsawildworld​, @juletheghoul​, @punkerthanpascal​, @itswanktime​, @karolydulin​, @pedrostories​, @fabilei, @ghostwiththemostbitch, @omlwhatamidoinghere​, @cannedsoupsucks​, @chaoticemz, @hows-my-hair​, @alexxavicry​, @cran-berry-vodka, @deadhumourist​, @outercrasis​, @thisshipwillsail316​, @toxicfrankenstein​, @hotchlover​, @ew-erin​, @mishasminion360​, @jitterbugs927​, @penelopeimp​, @woodland-mist​, @pedro-pastel​, @spaceserialkiller, @adriiibell​, @1andthesame​, @elegantduckturtle​, @captain-jebi​, @magpie-to-the-morning​, @sharkbait77​, @sleep-tight1​, @musings-of-a-rose​, @Karlawithacapitalk, @woomen23​, @frasmotic​, @songsformonkeys​, @loonymagizoologist​, @aynsleywalker​, @ruhro7​, @bluestuesday​, @what-iwish-you-knew​, @princess-djarinn​, @totallynotastanacc​, @girlofchaos​, @pjkimrn​, @bangaveragewhitewine​, @trickstersp8​, @rominaszh, @gooddaykate​, @ms-loverman-066​, @bunniwarrior, @detectivecarisi-1​, @tintinn16​, @iceclaw101​, @bport76​, @thatpinkshirt​, @tusk89​, @withakindheartx​, @curiouskeyboard​, @pedropascalsx​, @sirpascal, @racetrackheart, @patisseriel, @timpletance​, @titabel, @xdaddysprincessxx​, @dnxgma​, @astronomeoww​, @dindjarinswhore, @alwaysdjarin​, @mando-amando​, @mx-ferelden​, @trinkets01​, @jxvipike​, @thesmutslut​, @thereisaplaceintheheart​, @scentedthingtidalwave​, @mwltwo​, @loveslide​, @artsymaddie​, @untitledarea​, @sukunababe​, @emiemiemiii​, @your-slutty-gf​, @wisecolornight​, @emilianamason​
joel miller: @jujuliaispunk
3K notes · View notes
chxrrysangel · 26 days
Text
Drinking Games
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Pairing| Eddie Munson x reader
Warnings | friends to lovers, fluff, mentions of alcohol/drunkeness, love confessions, it’s really cute ok
Author’s note | this is the first thing I’ve published in like 5 months so…gentle please. Also this 100% came to me in a maladaptive daydream…lmao
Sitting around the circle, your body buzzed with excitement and the mixed drinks you had tonight. Robin sat not more than three feet away, acting as the self-appointed dealer. The game of the night had long been forgotten by name, but the rules were rather simple: answer the question or drink. One could hardly mess up something so simple but your friends were always eager to conquer the impossible.
Secrets and juicy tidbits were revealed throughout the night, each of your friends making the hard choices to spill their guts—not that you minded. Eventually, your turn game around again and Robin’s eyes glistened with intrigue. Anxiety lodged itself in your throat, fearful of what horror lies on the card in her hand. She always had this look when up to something, her lips curling up into a frighteningly devious smirk like she knew something you didn’t. She turned towards you, your name dripping off her tongue with a noticeable air of mischief.
“Would you consider the person across from you in the circle to be attractive?” Your heartbeat sounded noisily in your ears, a cold sweat finding its way onto your hot skin. You had no reason to question who was across from you, already knowing the answer.
Eddie.
Edward Munson, your friend—dare you say best friend— who stole your heart the second you met. The two of you became fast friends, quickly falling into an agreeable routine at school. Once graduated, you stayed just as close if not closer. The chemistry between you was undeniable, but you were always “just friends.” Even when you started a little too long at him from across the room or burned with jealousy when he flirted with people at the local bar, he was just your friend. And it killed you.
Tentatively, you lifted your gaze from off the rugged carpet towards the metalhead across from you. Eddie looked at you innocently, not wanting to push you to answer. He was so kind that it was unnerving, how could you not like him? For years, he carried this reputation of a mean rugged guy who’d pulverize anyone who made eye contact. But, he truly was the exact opposite. Eddie could hardly hurt a fly, actually running in the opposite directions of them. The next few seconds were spent deliberating over your response to the challenge.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to say it?
“Yes.” Eddie’s gaze locked with yours as you spoke, his expression nearly unreadable if it weren’t for the hint of surprise in his doe eyes. Robin was satisfied with your answer, choosing to move on to the next person.
At some point during the game, Steve tapped out, choosing to play dealer with Robin. Everything was going smoothly, almost too smoothly. You had opted for water about 20 mins ago, sobering up a little bit. When the circle moved onto Eddie again, Steve picked up a card this time. The ex-jock couldn’t even pretend to hide his smile at the words, excitement clear on his features.
“Eddie, is there any person in this circle that you’d consider kissing.”
You didn’t mean to do it, but the hopeful high schooler buried deep in you couldn’t help but look at him in this moment. His chocolate brown eyes flicked across each person in the circle before landing on you, locking eyes comfortably. His gaze held for just a few beats, almost unclockable to an outsider.
��Yes.” Just as quickly as his gaze landed on you, it moved back over to Steve for approval. The boy leaned in, some other plan brewing in his mind.
“Follow up question. Will you disclose who they are?”
Again Eddie's eyes met yours for a few seconds longer than normal, unwavering in his decision. In any other headspace, you'd be inclined to brush it off and make excuses. But in this moment, your usual instincts felt almost elementary.
“I don't think I have to.”
The rest of the game passed on normally, your mind just barely present enough to answer the questions or take a shot during your turn. Eddie barely spared another glance in your direction, at least that you noticed.
~~~~~
You said your goodbyes to everyone, planning your thankfully short walk back to your place. Safety keychain in hand, you snuggled into your coat and headed out. Between the crunching of your sneakers on the gravel walkway and the howling wind, you could hardly make out the sound of someone shouting a bit ways behind you. You would’ve ignored it altogether if it weren’t for the yelling getting louder, testifying that it wasn’t in your imagination.
A certain curly-haired metalhead made his way towards you, smile bright in the otherwise barely lit street. Even drunk out of his mind, Eddie was gorgeous -- something you almost hated about him. He didn't even try to be hot, he just was.
“Hey. Mind if I -um, walk with you? We live close together anyways.” Not trusting yourself to speak, you moved over on the sidewalk to allot space. The walk home was largely silent, much too in your own head to say much. Eddie made no attempt to stir conversation, which you were grateful for. His usually chatty self was nowhere to be found.
As soon as the sight of your apartment building came into view, you thanked heaven and earth for saving you from this anxiety. You could pretend the night didn’t happen and move on with your life.
“Hey, sweets I’ve uh got a question.” Eddie cleared his throat, which did very little to hide the nerves in his tone. Hesitant, you chewed on your lip for a moment. Eddie’s gaze flickered down to your mouth for a moment, before quickly shooting back up to your eyes.
“Shoot.” The metalhead averted his gaze, something rather atypical for such an extroverted guy. His voice got quiet as well, like he didn’t trust himself to speak. It was endearing.
“Did you mean what you said tonight? About…finding me attractive?” His voice was hopeful, at least that’s what’s it sounded like. But you had to have imagined that.
“Yeah… I did. I have eyes Eddie. We may be friends, but I know handsome when I see it Eds.” Your voice was hesitant, but more honest than you've ever been.
The barely audible comment of “yeah friends.” could be heard from his lips, like he was whispering it to himself. It dawned upon you that the two of you were crossing the line in this moment.
“Eddie, I also have a question.” You had to be brave in this moment, knowing you might never get another chance again for this kind of honesty. His head perked up, curls bouncing and falling into the mess you loved so much around his features. With his full attention, it was now your turn to be nervous.
“Did you mean what you said tonight?” Even in the dimness of the overhead streetlight, Eddie’s entire face burned red with embarrassment. He chuckled in disbelief, shifting his weight with each foot.
“Full disclosure, I was kind of hoping you forgot about that…I was so bold and I don’t know why. But uh yeah I did mean it.” His head dropped into his hands, filled with embarrassment and shame.
With the last few words, something shifted in that moment. Eddie was no longer your goofy, lovable best friend that you secretly pined over. He wasn’t the guy who Robin and Steve damn near had to kill somebody to get you to admit that you liked. He was just a guy, one who admitted not even 2 hours ago that he’d kiss you if given the chance. And he knew that.
With one brave step towards one another, you could feel the heat radiating off his body. Maybe it was the alcohol or just his proximity, but your head felt light.
“Eddie,” you whisper.
“Yeah?” His lips ghost over yours, brushing in a way that makes you feel pathetically needy.
“Can we make good on that wish?”
He hums in response, cradling your face in his hands as he gently presses his lips to yours. He doesn’t rush, savoring the taste of you as if he’d forget. You quickly find harmony in your movements, both hungry with desire but desperate to make the moment last as long as possible. He whimpers in your mouth, needing more than one could give on a public street.
It’s only when your lungs begin to burn with lack of oxygen that you break away. You make no move to back away, encased on his arms like two puzzle pieces fitting together.
“So…”
Your awkwardness breaks the silence, the two of you making eye contact before falling into a much needed laughter fit.
“We’re gonna have to talk about this tomorrow, for sure. Perhaps over breakfast?.” His beloved goofy smile is on display, the signature one you couldn’t make to say no to.
“Are you asking me out on a date Munson?”
“Not yet. But soon. Definitely soon.”
You say goodnight, making headway towards your apartment door before you’re suddenly pulled back. Sandalwood and vanilla engulf your senses, Eddie stopping you from going to sleep. Without warning, he places his hand on the side of your neck and kisses you once more. This one was rather short, but equally sweet.
“Just wanted one for the road.” He winks, bowing like an idiot before walking into the night towards his own place. You smile to yourself as you walk the building’s empty hallways—giddy, lovesick, and still a bit drunk.
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fantasyescapes17 · 10 months
Text
Scandal (Part 1)
The Viscount's sister with an enormous dowry, beauty and unmistakable talent- you began the London season as the most desired woman in any room. But Jeon Wonwoo (a man who would rather hide in the library than dance at a ball) is beyond your comprehension. Curiosity might have killed the cat, but it embroiled you into a scandal with a man you could never love.
Genre: Wonwoo x Female!reader. Regency!AU (It's sort of Bridgerton-esque in the sense that I give zero attention to historical accuracy and prioritize aesthetics lmao) You are Joshua's sibling so your last name is Hong but the reader has no other physical characteristics. Note: Certain main characters may initially seem unlikeable in this story. Redemption arcs will come.
Word Count: 6.8k+
Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
Series Masterlist [Reading Candle and Manners, the earlier installments in this series first is strongly recommended as main character dynamics are introduced there.]
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The sheer cacophony being produced from Miss Brooke’s fingers prodding at your pianoforte was unbearable. 
You suffered silently through the onset of a headache as Miss Brooke continued to perform (the piece was not even recognizable to your ears although she was using your sheet music). The remaining occupants of the parlour conversed awkwardly over her uninspiring performance. 
Your mother- the Dowager Viscountess Hong-  derived great enjoyment from hosting other elite families for tea. Her tea parties were renowned not only for the wide array of cakes, biscuits and other delicacies served, but also her remarkable skills as a hostess. 
Presently, the evening's guests consisted of two of the ton's most elite families: the Brookes and the Jeons. Both families had eligible young women of marriageable age which factored into your mother's decision to host them. She was hoping your brother would marry by the end of the season. 
Your brother- the Viscount Joshua Hong- was seated near Miss Jeon. They chatted politely about something. The specifics of their conversation were prevented from reaching your ears by the ruckus Miss Brooke was creating on the piano. Miss Jeon was the season's promising young debutante, but it was evident that she had no particular attraction to Joshua. And Joshua's heart was already engaged elsewhere. 
That left only one other marriageable bachelor in the room. 
Mr. Jeon Wonwoo. 
He was a strange one, you decided. Mr Jeon was exceedingly handsome and always had a calm, peaceful demeanour. He spoke very little. Even now, he sat across from you and sipped his tea quietly without making any attempt at conversation. Your initial subtle attempts at flirtation had fallen quite flat.  
You had to admit that you found him rather mysterious. 
Still, you had never met a man that was completely immune to your charms. Mr. Jeon was simply a bit of a challenge. You enjoyed a challenge. 
Miss Brooke's piece at the piano finally drew to an excruciatingly slow end. Seizing the opportunity, you rose from your seat and clapped politely with a smile on your face as you approached her. 
"Thank you so much, Miss Brooke. We are so grateful to have been able to experience your playing this evening. Truly a remarkable performance," you told her graciously. 
Miss Brooke blushed. "Thank you, Miss Hong. I was considering what to play next-"
"Oh! No, I won't hear of it! You must be very tired already. I insist that you sit down and try these lemon cakes. I would be happy to continue the music in your stead," you offered. 
Miss Brooke looked put out but you firmly and politely ushered her away from the piano. You sat at your beloved instrument and let your fingers lovingly stroke the keys that Miss Brooke had abused mere moments ago. 
You never tired of showing off your performances. Your musical talents were undisputed among the members of the ton, and you were confident that there was no young woman in London who could ever rival your skill at the piano.
Surely, you thought, a display of my exquisite musical talent will be enough to gain a little attention from Mr. Jeon Wonwoo? 
You chose to perform an incredibly difficult piece that you had recently mastered. The entire room immediately ceased conversation to turn their attention to your performance. You could tell from the corner of your eye that even Mr. Jeon Wonwoo's sharp gaze was fixed on you. He was watching you intensely.
When you finished, you were treated to an enthusiastic round of applause from the entire room. Your mother spoke up to praise you. 
"Wonderful, dear. That was beautifully done," the Dowager Viscountess told you proudly. 
"That was quite delightful!" Miss Jeon was equally quick to praise your performance once you returned to your seat. "I have heard so much about your musical talents, Miss Hong, but to hear you perform in person is quite something else entirely. How much time and effort you must have put in to reach that level of skill! Was it not lovely, Wonwoo?"
You smiled to yourself, awaiting the praise that was surely to come from Mr. Jeon. You were accustomed to general admiration of your music. The young gentlemen of the ton were among your most ardent admirers.
You batted your eyelashes at him and spoke in a sweet tone. "Yes, Mr. Jeon. I am very eager to hear what you thought of my performance."
Mr. Jeon Wonwoo sipped his tea calmly. His dark eyes flickered to you and he gave you a polite, tight-lipped smile. 
"You possess great potential, Miss Hong," he replied simply.  
You could not have been more shocked if Mr. Jeon Wonwoo had chosen to throw his unfinished tea in your face. 
Potential? What on earth did he mean by that? You had been learning to play the piano since you were a small child of seven. That was a decade and a half of uninterrupted learning, of your parents hiring the best tutors and dedicating all your free time to the practice and perfection of the art. Your late father had bought you the priceless pianoforte for your twelfth birthday, and it was your most prized possession. You were undisputably the most skilled young lady in all of London and this rude, conceited, tasteless man had the audacity to tell you that you had potential?
As though you were a child? 
You had never been so affronted. 
"I have dedicated myself to learning how to play the pianoforte for over fifteen years now, Mr. Jeon," you informed him coldly. "I am certain that I have already realised my full potential. Perhaps you may wish to reserve your critical judgement in the future."
Mr. Jeon's handsome face did not flinch.  
"You asked me for my thoughts, Miss Hong," he replied in his calm, deep voice. His eyebrow was raised. "Am I to understand, then, that my criticism holds no value while my praise does? One might call that vanity."
Your cheeks turned hot in anger. How dare this tasteless man not only insult you publicly, but also accuse you of being vain and fishing for compliments?
How dare he? 
"One hardly needs to be a music aficionado to pay basic respect to the quality of a performance, Mr. Jeon. I believe even my dog knows good music when he hears it-"
Viscount Hong interrupted the rapidly escalating conversation with a laugh and made a tangential comment about a hunting expedition that he planned to undertake with some other gentlemen. You leaned back in your seat and fumed silently for the rest of the evening until the Jeons and Brookes finally took their leave. 
"Joshua," you told your elder brother once the guests had departed. "I hope you have not developed any affection towards Miss Jeon because I forbid that family from being invited to our home again. I have never been so insulted in my life!"
Joshua raised an eyebrow. "Your performance was lovely, sister. You should not let the opinion of others affect you."
You turned to your mother. 
"Mother! Was Mr. Jeon not excessively rude to me earlier?" you demanded validation. "Have you ever known someone to openly insult my performance- as a guest in our home, no less?"
Your mother gave you a sympathetic smile. "It does not appear that Mr. Jeon has a discerning ear for music, my darling. But do not fret. If you do not wish to see him again then we need not host the Jeons any more this season. There are plenty of other young gentlemen among the ton who would suit you much better."
You smiled and embraced your mother. 
"You are so good to me, mother. Shall I play you another piece before dinner?"
"I would love that, my dear."
—-------------------------------------------------------
True to her word, your mother did not attempt to host the Jeons again. Any formal invitations to tea were restricted to the female members of the Jeon family- among whom Miss Jeon, you discovered, was a polite and friendly young woman.
You were fortunate to see very little of Mr. Jeon Wonwoo over the next few weeks. While his sister made a splash upon her entrance in society with her pretty manners and success at balls, Mr. Jeon himself was not easy to spot at social events. He would indulge in one or two dances at most and not be seen for the rest of the evening.  
It was for the best, since the passage of time had not diminished your anger towards him in the slightest. 
"Your post has arrived, Miss Hong," the maid told you as she came in with a tray of letters while you were at breakfast with your mother and brother. 
The Dowager Viscountess raised an eyebrow. 
"That is a lot of correspondence, my dear," your mother commented as you carelessly opened the letters one-by-one and glanced at them briefly before tossing them aside. "Who are you writing to?"
"I am not writing to anyone. These are from some gentlemen I danced with at the Hessington's ball last week. Mr. Carter writes to me regularly and of late I've received correspondence from Baron Wright, the Park brothers, and a few others…."
"So many admirers!"
You rolled your eyes. It was not surprising. These men were only interested in your status and fortune, though one would not think so from the romantic prose and lavish gifts they sent you on a regular basis. One of the envelopes contained a gift of expensive silk ribbon. Another contained an exquisitely carved handheld mirror. 
You gestured to your maid to take the gifts away before continuing to open the envelopes. 
"Oh, look- Mr. Carter has written a lovely little poem. You should use that, Joshua. It might help you woo Miss Lee."
Joshua did not look at the letter you passed him. 
"I am capable of drafting my own correspondence with Miss Lee, sister, thank you," he told you firmly. 
You were not convinced. "If you had written her a few poems like this before you raced off to her home to ask for her hand in marriage…"
Joshua sighed."Yes, yes, all right. That is enough."
"Oh dear," you mumbled as you opened the last letter. "Baron Wright says he intends to call upon me today. He is quite unbearable. I must not be at home- Minnie! It is lovely weather for a walk in the park. Will you help me find that pretty blue summer dress? And we shall take Snowball with us."
Your maid nodded. "Of course, miss."
You enjoyed the fresh air. Since you spent hours every day in front of the piano, it was rare to have a chance to promenade in the park with your furry companion. Snowball- your adorable fluffy white Pomeranian- trotted alongside you cheerfully on her leash and your ladies’ maids followed you at a polite distance. 
"Miss, you must walk in the shade," your maid insisted. "It is very bright outside and the direct sun may burn your skin…"
You conceded, teetering a little off the path so that you and your maids could walk in the shade of the trees lining the park. You paused suddenly when you noticed a gentleman and lady strolling in your direction. 
You recognised them both.
The man was Mr. Jeon Wonwoo. The mere sight of his handsome, unsmiling face was enough to make your blood boil. Wonwoo had no business looking so deceptively charming in a dark brown riding coat that emphasised his broad shoulders- the uncultured swine. 
You would have walked past him without acknowledging his presence if it had been up to you. But unfortunately, you were not afforded this option. The lady accompanying him was your cousin-Miss Ella Williams- and she smiled and waved as soon as she recognised you. 
"Cousin!" Ella called out cheerfully as she hurried down the path to greet you. Mr. Jeon followed her. His long legs allowed him to cover the distance in casual, effortless strides. 
"Ella," you greeted your cousin warily. You were forced to acknowledge her walking companion. "And Mr. Jeon Wonwoo, if I remember correctly? I see you are out for a stroll."
Ella smiled. "Indeed. I was on a walk with Miss Jeon but we were joined by Mr. Jeon and Mr. Yoon. The path is narrow so I am afraid that the others have fallen a little behind. Mr. Jeon- please allow me to introduce you to my cousin, Miss Hong."
Wonwoo’s expression was emotionless as always. 
“We are already acquainted,” he replied shortly. 
"I see you and Snowball have come to promenade as well. Is the weather not perfectly lovely? It is a wonderful sunny day," Ella gushed.
"It was when I arrived. But there seems to be a rather ugly dark cloud crossing my path at the moment," you quipped with a sharp glance at Mr. Jeon. 
The sky was clear and blue.  
Mr. Jeon fixed his dark eyes upon you. He seemed annoyed. "Perhaps a dark cloud now and then is inevitable in life, Miss Hong. The sky cannot cater to your personal desires," he remarked. 
You scoffed. "So long as the cloud learns its place and does not rain down upon those of us attempting to enjoy our day; I shall have no objections to the existence of the cloud."
Ella looked bewildered. "What cloud-"
She was interrupted by a sharp tug on your leash. Snowball had grown impatient while standing in one place and darted forwards to sniff at Mr. Jeon's shoes. 
Mr. Jeon looked surprised. It was the closest thing to an emotion you had seen on his serious face- but he did not move away from the dog.
"Snowball, no!" you cried. Snowball was beginning to wag his tail and you could not imagine the mortification you would feel if your dog expressed any affection towards the man you were clearly attempting to snub. 
You reached down and picked Snowball up quickly before he could embarrass you. He let out a small whine but relaxed in your arms. 
Ella laughed. “Oh, that is all right, cousin! I am sure Mr. Jeon does not mind dogs- do you, Mr. Jeon?” 
“I consider them to be excellent companions,” Mr. Jeon replied simply. 
"And I think he is adorable," Ella insisted as she reached forward to pat Snowball's head. "I wish my mother would allow me to have a dog, but she insists that the fur makes her ill. Will you allow me to walk him sometime?"
"Anytime you like, dear cousin."
Ella's eyes suddenly widened as she remembered something. "Oh, but cousin, you must tell me- I have heard that the Viscount is courting Miss Lee! I was quite surprised. Can it be true? Will they be married?"
You stiffened. You were aware of Joshua's affections for Miss Lee; their courtship was the hottest gossip among the ton at the moment, largely because Miss Lee was from a humble background and did not possess either status or dowry to match your family's. 
You had spoken to Miss Lee at the Hessington's ball. She was kind-hearted and a perfect choice for Joshua, but did not seem confident in her ability to become a Viscountess. You were not certain that she would accept your brother's proposal. 
"It remains to be seen," you replied lightly. You did not want to confirm rumours until the success or failure of their courtship was more evident to you.
"You do not think she is a good match for Joshua?" Ella wondered. 
"We shall have to see," you said vaguely. "Decisions such as these should not be made in haste. Not everyone is suited to become a Viscountess."
Mr. Jeon's dark eyes were still on you. His jaw was clenched; he looked displeased. 
"Do you disagree, Mr. Jeon?" you demanded. 
"I do not think it is your place to assess who is suited to become the Viscountess," he replied stiffly. "I am sure your brother is more than capable of making such decisions on his own."
You laughed. Your brother had made plenty of poor choices in Miss Lee's case- including springing a proposal on the poor girl without giving her any hint of his affections for her and failing to realise how she would be affected by the gossip.
"You overestimate my brother, Mr. Jeon. He is perfectly capable of making mistakes, like any other gentleman," you replied. 
"A gentleman will deal with the consequences of his own actions- whether they be mistakes or otherwise," Mr. Jeon retorted. 
You stared at him, bewildered. What was he going on about? You had no idea why Jeon Wonwoo was so invested in Joshua's courtship with Miss Lee, but you refused to let this odious man have the last word.
"It seems you have a high opinion of my brother," you snapped. "But I am sorry to inform you that the decisions made by a Viscount do not impact him alone. Forgive me if I do not want my brother to make mistakes that would cause pain to those around him."
Ella looked distressed at the turn the conversation was taking. 
"Cousin, I am sure there is no question of the Viscount making any mistakes. Let us speak of something else," she pressed. 
"Yes, of course. Men must never be questioned by women when they make mistakes," you replied drily while glaring at Mr. Jeon. "How foolish of me to think otherwise."
Mr. Jeon raised an eyebrow. "Miss Hong, it was never my intention to suggest that-"
"Frankly, Mr. Jeon, I have no interest in what you intended to suggest. I did not ask for your opinion; I shall certainly not make that mistake twice. You may rest knowing that your silence pleases me well enough. Please do not trouble yourself with speech."
Ella was shocked. "Cousin!"
"Snowball is quite tired and we must be returning home now. I will take your leave.  Good day, Ella. Mr. Jeon."
You walked away, your cheeks hot with anger. Who did Mr. Jeon Wonwoo think he was? It is not your place to assess who is suited to be a Viscountess? As though a sister being concerned for her brother's marriage was overstepping her bounds? How dare he speak to you that way? 
One thing was certain. You were not as kind and forgiving as your brother. 
Jeon Wonwoo would regret making an enemy of you.
—-------------------------------------------
"Miss Hong, you have the most exquisite taste in fashion! These gowns are so striking!" Miss Brooke cried. 
You were having tea with some of the other young ladies of the ton when your latest shipment from the modiste arrived- a large collection of custom-made ball gowns, hats, and shoes that you had ordered recently. 
"This one is my own personal design," you boasted as Miss Brooke admired a particularly gorgeous lavender gown with a delicately embroidered skirt. "I ordered it specially for my brother's wedding and I am having a pair of shoes custom-made to match."
“It is a masterpiece!” 
You sipped your tea and leaned back as Miss Brooke, Miss Hessington and Miss Jeon continued to compliment and admire your new gowns. You had spent a considerable amount of time preparing the designs and discussing them with the modiste. The admiration of the other young ladies was sufficient recompense for your efforts. 
Let it never be said that Miss Hong was not the best-dressed young lady in the room.
Just as Miss Brooke pulled out an exquisite handmade silk shawl from the boxes stacked on the tea table, your brother appeared at the doorway of the tea parlour. 
"Ladies," Viscount Hong greeted the other young women in the room with a handsome smile before turning to you. "I apologise for interrupting your tea. Sister- if I could have a word in the hall?"
You followed him into the hallway outside. 
"Joshua? Is there a problem?"
Joshua had a small stack of papers in his hand. He showed them to you calmly. "These are the bills I have received from the modiste, the shoemaker and the jeweller," he informed you. 
You blinked at him. "All right. What is the problem? Send the clerk to pay them."
"Do you not think some of these are a little extravagant, sister? This single ball-gown of yours costs as much as the Arabian horse I had shipped from overseas," Joshua pointed out. 
"It is custom-made. The silk is imported from India so it has travelled the same distance. If we can afford the horse, then I fail to see the problem with the dress," you replied defensively.
Joshua shook his head and sighed. "Do not mistake me, sister. I am not angry. I only want to be sure that you are conscious of your spending habits."
"Are my gowns putting a dent in the Hong family fortune?" you asked with a laugh. 
"You know they are not."
"Then what do you want from me?"
"I would like you to acknowledge that regardless of our ability to pay for them, perhaps it is not necessary to spend so much money on a dress that you shall only wear on a single occasion. I ask you to exercise a little restraint.”
“Yes, yes, all right," you told him dismissively. "The season is nearing an end so this was my final order. We shall be returning to the countryside after your wedding, in any case."
"Glad to hear it."
"Have you ordered your wedding things? You know the modiste takes over a week for wedding orders- particularly the wedding gowns."
Joshua blinked. "Wedding gown?"
You gasped. "Joshua! Your wedding is in less than a fortnight, are you telling me that an order has not been placed for Miss Lee's wedding gown? What on earth is the matter with you?"
Joshua looked flustered. "I-I assumed Miss Lee would arrange her own wedding gown-"
"Miss Lee's family cannot afford a wedding gown fit for a Viscountess! And she is so humble she would never ask you for such a thing- it was your responsibility to offer! You must place a deposit with the modiste immediately and I will take Miss Lee there myself to select the design this evening. You are fortunate that I am the modiste's valued customer."
Joshua nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yes-yes, I will do that…"
"And none of that restraint, please. Sell one of the Arabians if you must," you added with a giggle. 
Your brother hurried away and you re-entered the parlour where the young ladies were still discussing your silk shawls.
You re-seated yourself in an armchair. 
"Is everything all right, Miss Hong?" Miss Jeon asked politely. 
"Yes- my brother needed some help with the arrangements for his wedding. Gentlemen are very lucky to have sisters to rely on in certain matters," you said lightly before glancing at Miss Jeon. "Would you not agree, Miss Jeon?"
Miss Jeon shook her head. "I am sure I rely on my brother far more than he relies on me."
"But of course. Mr Jeon Wonwoo is a different case altogether. I gather he does not need your help in matters of the heart, since he openly refuses to court anyone," you quipped.
Miss Jeon did not seem worried. "I am sure he will find a young lady he is interested in someday."
"I hope that the young lady is not too fond of polite conversation, then, since Mr. Jeon will surely not indulge in any," you replied. "Was it not just last week, Miss Brooke, that you told me Mr. Jeon danced with you and did not speak a single word for the entire duration of the dance?"
Miss Brooke smiled awkwardly. "Yes…"
"And Miss Hessington, did you not tell me that you attempted to converse with him at the assembly rooms and he did not even look up from the book he was reading to greet you?"
Miss Hessington nodded. 
"Wonwoo does not speak much," Miss Jeon admitted with an awkward laugh. 
"Perhaps that is for the best," you replied airily. "I am quite offended by what little he has spoken to me thus far. If he spoke more often, I imagine he would soon gain many enemies among the ton."
"I apologise for his actions, Miss Hong-"
You brushed her off kindly. "Not at all, Miss Jeon; you are a dear friend. I would not dream of holding you responsible for your brother's behaviour. He shall carry that burden entirely on his own."
"Are there any gentlemen among the ton that have caught your eye, Miss Hong?" Miss Brooke wondered. "I notice that Baron Wright seems to be quite set on you. You often dance with Mr. Carter as well."
"We shall see," you replied lightly. "Since the season is coming to an end and I will be returning to the countryside soon, it is a perfect time to test a man's so-called affections. Only those who maintain their correspondence with me over the winter will remain candidates for my hand next season."
Miss Jeon giggled. "Then may we expect to see another wedding in the Hong family next season?"
"... Perhaps so."
—----------------------------------------------------------
Viscount Joshua Hong's wedding was a grand success, in no small part thanks to you.
The bride's wedding gown was greatly admired by the entire ton and Miss Lee thanked you for your efforts toward ensuring they had a smooth ceremony. The happily married couple left for their honeymoon immediately after. You returned with your mother to the Hongs' countryside estate for the winter. 
It was a quiet winter without your brother at home. You spent most evenings practising music by the fireplace and reading and writing your correspondence. Baron Wright and Mr. Carter were both quite serious about their affections for you, and you wondered if perhaps one of them would approach the Viscount for your hand as soon as your family was back in London for the next season.
You could not decide if you cared enough to marry either of them. But you were already in your third season, and now with your brother married too, the clock was ticking. Luckily, you had the entire ton to choose from. You doubted there was a single unattached man who would not welcome your affections if you chose to bestow them upon him. 
Except perhaps Mr. Jeon Wonwoo. 
But as always, he was the exception to the rule. 
You were pleased to return to London after the end of winter. Your sister-in-law, the new Viscountess, was equally excited. She had fully embraced her new role as your brother’s wife, and seemed much happier and brighter by his side than she had ever appeared before.
It almost made you envious of their marital bliss. 
“I hope you will find someone who makes you as happy as Joshua makes me,” the Viscountess gushed as the servants hurried to unpack your belongings and set up your London home for the new season. “Marriage really is quite wonderful and I would love for you to experience it, sister.” 
“Well, I must find the right man,” you reminded her. “And more importantly, I must find the right dress for the ball that the Duchess of Graham is hosting tomorrow. It is going to be the most spectacular event of the season and I cannot afford to look anything but my best.”
“You always look beautiful.” 
“Your words flatter me, sister; but it is your first public appearance as the Viscountess and you must be equally careful. Perhaps a trip to the modiste is in order?” 
The Viscountess smiled. “Perhaps it is.”
—------------------------------------------------
It was not easy to be the centre of attention at the Duchess of Graham’s ball.
The beginning of a new season came with so much fresh gossip and juicy rumours that it was impossible to keep track of it all. Whispers abounded from the moment you descended your carriage and entered the Duchess’ palatial London manor. 
“The youngest Miss Yoon is the most awaited debutante of the season,” your cousin Ella Williams informed you as you both took a turn about the beautiful ballroom. The dancing had not yet begun. You were taking the opportunity to admire the sheer magnificence of the Duchess’ manor.
It was beyond anything you had seen before. 
“Miss Yoon?” you asked. “Mr. Yoon Jeonghan’s younger sister?”
“She is rumoured to be a great beauty. And now that the messy issue of her dowry is resolved and her fortune restored, I expect she will be receiving her fair share of offers.” 
You nodded. “I would like to meet this young woman. But first, Ella, tell me about the Duchess. I knew she was rich and had connections to the royal family but… the extravagance of this manor! It is at least three times the size of any other home I have seen in London, including my own.” 
Ella nodded eagerly as you both admired an enormous marble statue in the entryway to the ball room. 
“Of course. The Grahams have historically been very intimate with the royal family and their fortune is beyond comparison. But the Duke of Graham left no male heirs. When he died last year, the title should have died with him- but the Queen herself decreed as a special exception that the title would continue through his only daughter.” 
Your eyes widened. “Fascinating. I am sure this has never happened before."
“Indeed. It was quite the controversy. Much of the nobility was displeased with a woman being able to hold a title without the support of a man. They insisted that she produce a male heir at the soonest. It is rumoured that the Duchess intends to marry soon. Perhaps this season.`` 
You sighed. “I wish she wouldn’t. It is quite nice to have a Duchess in her own right.” 
“I agree. But she has not shown any interest in the gentlemen of the ton, so perhaps she will marry someone from the royal family instead. A Prince? Anything is possible, really,” Ella gushed excitedly. “As for the manor, it has been in the Graham family for many generations. Much of the furniture is antique and gifted by the royal family. I have heard the library has an antique pianoforte which was gifted hundreds of years ago by the King himself.” 
Your eyes sparkled. “A pianoforte, you say?”
“Perhaps the oldest still in existence in London.” 
Your interest was piqued. 
“Ella- I must see this pianoforte,” you decided.  
Ella laughed. “Unfortunately, cousin, I am not entirely sure where it is. The library is upstairs but I have never been to this manor before. I have heard that your brother is acquainted with the Duchess. Perhaps if you ask her permission…” 
You shook your head. “Ask her? She is the hostess of the ball, we should never have a chance to speak to her tonight. Look at the size of this event! Nobody would notice if we slipped upstairs in between a few dances. The staircase is not even blocked.” 
Ella was startled. “We?”
“I cannot go alone!” you cried. 
“But-but…” 
“I will grant you any wish within my power, Ella,” you promised your cousin as you seized her hand and pressed it tightly. “You may choose any dress from my wardrobe- even the ones I have not yet worn. Take your pick from my jewellery box. I simply must be able to lay my fingers on this historical piano.” 
Ella laughed and removed her hand from your grasp. “All right. You are lucky that this is the first ball of the season and all the attention is focused on the Duchess and the new debutantes.”
“Show me your dance card,” you insisted, seizing the little card tied to your cousin’s wrist. “You are unoccupied for the third dance, as am I. We will meet near those stairs at the beginning of the third dance and slip upstairs. I am promised to dance with Baron Wright for the fourth- so we must find the piano and return to the ballroom by then.” 
Ella giggled. “All right, cousin. But keep your promise. I intend to take the lavender dress you wore to the Viscount’s wedding.” 
“It is yours.” 
—--------------------------------------------------------------
You danced the first two dances of the evening with Mr. Carter and Mr. Hessington. Both of whom were very vocal about their admiration for you. You accepted their advances with your usual coolness and light flirtation.
You were still deciding which of your admirers to properly encourage. For now, you would keep your options open. 
The moment the second dance ended, you hurried to the foot of the grand marble staircase. Ella was nowhere to be seen. You waited impatiently for your younger cousin, but the enormous grandfather clock in the foyer continued to tick and after a few minutes, you could hear the opening notes of the third dance beginning in the ballroom.
You were running out of time. Where was Ella? 
You made a quick decision- surely there would be nobody upstairs except for a servant or two? The ball was in full swing here anyway. You could be up and back down in a matter of minutes. 
It would be fine. 
You lifted your skirts and ran up the stairs. At the top was an enormous landing and, as you expected, not a single person in sight. You walked down a hallway of enormous, studded half-open doors until you finally found the library. The high walls were lined with shelf after shelf of books rising into the air. 
In the centre of the room- an enormous white pianoforte. 
You walked towards the instrument and sat down before it with your heartbeat thudding. You were no stranger to expensive instruments but this was undoubtedly the most beautiful one that you had ever seen in your life. It was delicately hand-carved and the quality was evident from the moment you gently brushed your fingers over the keys. 
“Beautiful,” you whispered to yourself before pressing your fingers down to play a chord. The noise was strange and jarring. 
“That is disappointing,” a voice said from behind you.
You almost screamed in shock. You had not realised that there was anyone else in the room with you. You jumped up from the piano and whirled around to see Mr. Jeon Wonwoo was standing in the shadow of one of the bookshelves, leaning against it with a book in his hand. 
“Mr. Jeon?” you demanded. 
He stepped forward from the shadow. Mr. Jeon looked as handsome as ever-  his dark hair fell forward barely brushing his eyes and he looked less… serious than he normally did. The corner of his lips were turned up in an almost-smile. 
“Miss Hong,” he greeted. 
“I-I did not see that you were already in the room,” you stammered quickly. “You should have announced your presence to me. What are you doing up here?” 
Mr. Jeon held up the book in his hand. “Reading.” 
“And avoiding the ball, I see, as always. I suppose you consider yourself far too superior to the young ladies here to bestow them with the gift of your presence,” you replied snidely. “Shall I thank you for deigning to speak to me today?” 
He blinked. “No thanks is necessary.” 
“Excellent. Then I shall ask you to please leave. It is quite improper for us to be alone together here.” 
Mr. Jeon smirked lightly. “Leave? Miss Hong, I am afraid that I was here long before you. By the common rules of courtesy, if you do not wish to be in my presence then you are very welcome to leave yourself. The door is open.”
This infuriating man simply would not let you be.  
You glanced at the enormous grandfather clock in the corner of the room. You could still hear the faint notes of music coming from the ballroom below, but time was running out. You had no idea when you would have another chance to experience this instrument. Mr. Jeon would not ruin this for you. 
“I am sure you have been to hundreds of libraries, Mr. Jeon, but this instrument is one of the oldest antique pianofortes in London. I only wanted a few moments alone with it, if you would be so kind.” 
Mr. Jeon’s eyes flickered towards the instrument. 
“It looks antique but the noise it made just now was quite awful,” he remarked.   
You huffed and pressed some of the keys again. The noise was still awkward. “It is simply not tuned. Evidently nobody has played it in a long time. The fact that you could not tell leads me to believe that your knowledge and appreciation for music is much lower than I originally imagined.”
He raised an eyebrow. 
“Why? Because I would not compliment your performance last year?” he demanded.
“It was an excellent performance,” you said defensively, anger rising. “Regardless of whether you are willing to accept it or not, Mr. Jeon. I can allow for differences in personal taste, but there is some objectivity in the field that deems me more than a mere child with potential.” 
 Mr. Jeon closed the book in his hands and stepped closer to you. “The problem was not your performance.” 
“Oh?” you demanded. 
“No. Your performance was masterful. I am afraid what you failed to realise is that your self-indulgent display of talent left your friend, Miss Brooke, almost in tears,” Mr. Jeon replied. His dark eyes narrowed and he crossed the library towards you in long, effortless strides. You felt your heart constrict in your chest. 
“What?” you demanded, confused.
“You are evidently the better musician. But what I found distasteful, Miss Hong, is how you felt the need to make a spectacle of Miss Brooke by showing the entire room just how superior you were to her. That was a selfish, vain, tactless thing to do to a young lady who believes herself to be your friend.” 
“Miss Brooke made a spectacle of herself,” you snapped. “She should have known better than to perform for company when she can barely produce a recognizable nursery rhyme from the piano!” 
Mr. Jeon shook his head. “You could have ended it there. Perhaps even closed the instrument for the evening. But you had to outperform her by playing your most difficult piece. You used her to satisfy your vanity.” 
You could not help it- you laughed. You could not believe the audacity of this man, after all this time, to defend his actions in this manner. You were becoming angrier and angrier.
Your cheeks felt hot and your fists clenched. 
“Are you telling me, Mr. Jeon,” you asked as you laughed in disbelief. “That your blatant public insult of my performance while you were a guest in my home was an act of chivalry in defence of a slight you perceived against Miss Brooke? You are mad. Really, you must be quite mad to think that is even remotely an appropriate defence for your actions-”
“And you must be very proud indeed, to allow such a minor slight to make you so angry after all these months” Mr. Jeon replied with a smirk.
He was standing in front of the instrument now, mere feet away from you. 
You scoffed as you stepped forward again. You would not back down from this man. 
“Yes, of course. Yes, please, Mr. Jeon, I would love to hear more about my pride from the man who infamously hides in libraries during balls and snubs every young lady that crosses his path. Do you consider women beneath your notice? But of course- why should Mr. Jeon Wonwoo bother with polite conversation with stupid young ladies when he is evidently so superior in intellect and manner to our entire sex,” you hissed. 
His eyes looked wild for a moment; you had never seen so much emotion in Mr. Jeon’s eyes and you could hear your own blood pumping in your ears from anger as you stared back at him. You were barely a foot apart and you could see the way his chest heaved up and down underneath his black coat. 
The room was filled with a complete silence. 
Silence. 
The faint music from the ballroom below had stopped. 
Suddenly, a number of things occurred in the flash of a single moment. 
You realised that the third dance had ended and you had spent too long upstairs. There was the sound of footsteps outside the partially open library door. Jeon Wonwoo looked startled- he suddenly took a step back to put some distance between you, but his foot caught on the leg of the pianoforte and his arm came down upon the keys to steady himself. 
You darted forward to steady him but it was too late. His palm had already hit the keys by the time you seized his arm and the loud, jarring piano noise was released into the silent room with no chance of concealment. 
The door to the library burst open. 
Oh no. Oh no no no no. 
You were ruined. 
—-------------------------------------------------------------
730 notes · View notes
cod-z · 1 month
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Why do you HATE the rain, L.T?
You chose to read this, do NOT blame me if you ignore my warnings! TW: Angst, No Comfort, Death, Betrayal, Abuse, Trauma, Hint/Mention of SA on a Minor
Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader
| One-shots | Pt. 2 |
A/N: Realised that I really love writing angst but hate reading it lmao
Simon, or Ghost known out in the field, knew you since you were a child, yes, both you and the reaper of death were childhood best friends, never leaving each other’s side, taking on the world even with Simon’s questionable family problems that he always covered from you.
Always protecting the things he deemed weren’t good for your mind and soul, not wanting you grow up as fast as he did, he was older in his mind and his body is taking its time to catch up.
You and Simon were inseparable that was a fact, however between you two the dynamic was rather odd.
You were the troublemaker of the duo, always jumping into danger, never considering your safety, always taking the hits whenever Simon gets bullied at school or when his father gets so drunk he doesn’t recognise you when you came to get Simon’s sleepover gear, later on hiding the bruises and scars with make-up.
However, Simon didn’t know that he wasn’t the only one with family issues.
Your parents put up a facade whenever Simon came over for a sleepover with or without his sibling, having that sweet and parental attitude around them, taking care of them as if they were their children instead of you. And once Simon leaves, your parents would relish the anger and resentment onto you, baring you with multiple, questionable damages onto your body.
Your mother made sure you could no longer fathom a word with her ‘motherly love’, as she called it, unleashing her wrath onto you while your father’s form of ‘love’ lead you to being deflowered at a young age, him being the reason why you limped walking to school and why you didn’t shine bright as you did before - always feeling like filth.
Although your attitude always changes around Simon, always giving him a smile whenever he was near you, staying strong for him as he does for you.
“That doesn’t scare you, does it?” Simon gives you a wary smile while he watches you balance on the railing of the bridge, your dress being blown gently by the wind as you stick your arms out, giggling while giving him a reassuring smile.
“What’s there to be afraid of?”
“You could fall.”
“Yeah but I’m not,” you chuckle still walking on the railing like a tightrope, Simon still being paranoid as he watches you, eventually you reach the end of the bridge. You start to laugh at Simon’s protectiveness which earned you a playful glare which causes you to laugh harder, in turn, Simon starts to laugh as well. Just two kids against the world.
That was then, this is now.
You were just a Sergeant amongst the Task Force 141, they already had two Sergeants, both, capable of completing missions as a duo or a soloist, so can you but Sim- Ghost doesn’t seem to think so.
Over the years when you both grew up, Simon wasn’t as degrading as he was now, you remember the times where he’d pick you up when you fell down.
When you were back in secondary school, you and Simon had been a main target of bullying due to rumours of you homes and family, they weren’t wrong but you both weren’t going to give them the satisfaction of letting them get under your skin nor would you allow them to shit talk about Simon and vice versa.
You both cared deeply for one another, always watching each other’s back, both in and out of school grounds, knowing bullies won’t be reprimanded once they leave school gates, sure, you could tell the teacher but you both didn’t trust any adults.
However during a chase where both of you were out numbered, Simon had accidentally caught himself on the fence when he tried to crawl underneath it, it was hooked onto his right ankle, only hooking onto the sock but you were sure he had scratches underneath, the metal wire broken the material.
He looked towards you when you grabbed his sleeves and tug on it, trying to set him free but the gang were catching up and Simon didn’t want you hurt because of the fight he had started.
“Please, let me go!”
Your panicked eyes dart to him, looking at him as if he was crazy, you shake your head defying his orders while still trying to tug him free.
“It’s you and me, Si. Us against the worl—” you were cut off when you heard fabric being ripped apart and Simon was now on top of your legs, his head rested on your laps and the sounds of rushed footsteps nears the alleyway that you had escaped.
The gang leader punches the metal wire while glaring at the two of you, cursing words at you both for hitting his mate with a branch. You both looked at each other before dashing off, the distance of cursing fading and your laughs replacing the sound.
You remember it so clearly and yet you think to yourself, was any of it real?
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You stood in front of Ghost, his figure looming over yours, you eyes meeting one another as both of you know that their former, young friend no longer embodies their adult skeleton, both are grown and both are different.
The years that gapped between them were long many things had changed, Ghost lost his family while you had killed yours, you knew what happened to Ghost but he didn’t know what happened to you, you were both strangers, co-workers.
Forced, co-workers.
You had been a slave to Phillip Graves and General Shepherd, you had worked for the Shadow Company, being spared by the remorseful side of Ghost that had died or who you formally known as Simon Riley - your childhood best friend, the best friend that died along with his family, the friend that disappeared, the friend that left you to fend for your own. The man that stood in front of you, today.
You glared at him and he glared at you.
“I should’ve killed you when I had the chance,” his deep, gruff voice ring into your ear.
You don’t flinch while you both have a stand off, neither one of you backing down even with the harsh words being thrown back and forth in silence, his arms folding against his chest.
He hadn’t known why he spared you, he had his knife against your throat as you were left for dead by the Shadow Company, but he kept you alive. He doesn’t understand why he did so, you weren’t Ghost’s friend, you were Simon Riley’s best friend, the part of Ghost that died and the being of his reborn self.
However he was surprised that you hadn’t reacted out towards him from abandoning you, leaving you and not contacting you after everything he had been through, not that he couldn’t, he felt it would be best if he had left your life as he was back then. Saving you from the man he has become and known of as today, but you weren’t no different, you had changed too and not only as his enemy but as the young girl he used to love deeply.
You no longer had your enchanting smile, you no longer had the glimmer in your eyes, you no longer give that hypnotic laugh when others made jokes even with the ones he would mumble out, ones you used to laugh at.
“If you know what’s good for you ‘darlin’,” you mock his accent and the little nickname that he gave you when you first reunited while waving your hand behind you, brushing off the intense gaze he had on you. “you’ll leave me alone.”
You spat at him before brushing past him, purposely bumping his broad arms due to your height, of course it didn’t phase him but you were to petty and prideful to turn away and scowl at him more. Ghost on the other hand stared at your retreating form, his gaze solemn and softer - he missed you but you weren’t you.
“I wish you would’ve told me,” he mumbles underneath his breath, unfolding his arms as he rests them at his side.
“You don’t know what you’re asking me to admit,” the echoes of your hollow words hitting him hard.
He knows what you did to your parents, he now knows the same abuse you faced when you were kids and it pained him that he never figured it out, oblivious to all the signs. Regret that he couldn’t comfort you.
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“You can’t save me and just leave me to bleed, Simon,” younger you chuckle as you play dead on the ground in your parent’s backyard with a makeshift castle out of cardboard, Simon dressed up as a knight in shining armour, defeating the dragon but it had left you falling to your doom.
Simon giggles at your silliness as you play dead, he began to tickle you until you’re both chasing one another, laughing and screaming as you take turns tickling one another. Collapsing after tiring yourselves out onto the grass while you both stared up into the sky, your hands intertwined together platonically.
“We’ll always be together, right?” you smile towards Simon while he gives you a small smile back, one of his front tooth being gone.
“Always!” he chuckles.
The innocence you both shared nothing but a faded memory as you stare up at the sky, no longer the pretty blue that you remembered all those years ago, Simon was still at your side. His body laid next to yours as you both get covered in your blood, his hand holding onto yours, his mask off his head as you both lay there on the ground.
You had been shot, a vital organ being pierced through with the bullet and there was no way to save you from your demise.
You weren’t scared, you were never scared whenever you’re with Simon Riley and that’s who Ghost was now, he was your Simon Riley and you were you, no longer hiding behind a call sign. Both of you enjoying your last moments together, him dying all over again as Simon Riley and you dying as yourself all these years ago. Finally able to join your parents in the fire down below.
“You know, I thought it was never gonna end with us together,” you glances towards him, his eyes glancing towards yours, he doesn’t respond but thinks about the situation. You chuckle weakly at his lack of response, classic Simon, which makes you cough up blood.
Seeing you in this state he lightly chuckle himself as he thinks about it as Simon, no longer Ghost as he watches his childhood friend and interest, die next to him. Another painful memory to add for his nightmares and night terrors, knowing he’ll remember your face as you fade away from him, him regretting that he didn’t seek you out, protecting you from the world like all he did when he was younger. His heart was weeping and aching while he tightly held your hand, feeling the beat of your heart diminishing and your skin slowly going cold by the second.
“Maybe it could’ve, if I wasn’t such a coward,” he covers his eyes with his arm as he hides the tears that threatened to fall, maybe things would’ve been different if he had just…
“I don’t regret meeting you,” your voice hoarse while you look back up at the sky, a small smile plastered on your lips, Simon removing his arm as he looks at your features, imbedding it into his head before he loses you. “I never did.”
His heart swelled, his eyes softening, his other hand slowly placing itself on your cheek and guides it to face him. Both of your eyes locked together, the countdown of final moments starting now, you could feel yourself slipping away, away from the cruel world that you were birthed into and away from the one person you ever dared to get close to and reunite again. Both of you knew this was the end of the troublemaker duo who both fought against the world, the world fighting back to take one of them down.
“I’m still not afraid,” you whispered out, your chest slowly lifting up and down as you get weaker. “Not when I’m with you…”
Your eyelids slowly lower themselves as you give a final delicate smile, the rain slowly inviting itself into the pity party, starting out with small raindrops landing onto their bodies. Your hand’s grip slowly loosening around Simon’s but he held on tighter, though you no longer felt the tightness as your nerves fail to respond to the pain.
Simon holds his breath as he watches you take a few more slow breathes, his heart aching at the sight of you fighting for a little bit more time to be with him, to stay with him and yet he was a coward to even think of a response to say, he needed something to say. He brushes the hair that covered your beautiful face that he adored, ignoring the blood on your lips, he grazes his lips over yours, a delicate kiss for the Princess he couldn’t protect.
“I’ll see you again, even if we’re dead…”
The faint sound of your last breath cuts the air with silence, the rain pouring down onto both of you and other corpses, the blood being merged into the dirt and mud, his hands still holding onto yours, the warmth long gone. This was the true resting ground where Simon Riley had died, next to the person who he couldn’t have and never will.
Ghost stood up as he was reborn once more, this time colder, meaner and heartless.
The one he loved had his heart in their shared grave.
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A/N: hehe used all the prompts as sentences, fun.
Host(s): @xxshadowbabexx
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theemporium · 8 months
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Heyyyy,
Hope you’re doing well, i am literally obsessed with your works. And i am a certified Daniel girlllyyyy soooo 😘
Could i request a Daniel x Sunshine where Daniel is out on a boys night, and sunshine is out with her friends but they both can’t stop thinking about each other and end up leaving early to get home, and just as soon as they see each other they can’t stop saying how much they missed each other lmao
Thank youuu
thank you so much!! and thank you for requesting!🫶🏽
.
He was halfway through typing a message to you when he felt his phone be ripped from between his fingers. 
“Oi!” 
Daniel sent the Dutchman a pointed look, one that looked borderline murderous. However, Max just looked pleased with himself as he held Daniel’s phone just out of his grasp. 
“Mate, give it.”
“No!” Max scoffed and shook his head, passing the phone to Lando next to him. “You’ve been on the damn thing all night.”
Daniel rolled his eyes. “No, I haven’t.” 
“Yes, you have,” Charles piped in with his hands raised in mock defence when the Aussie’s glare whirled onto him. 
“I just wanted to make sure she’s okay!” Daniel defended. 
“She’s with her own friends,” Lando pointed out, almost a little too smugly. “Who are probably giving her as much shit as we are giving you considering you’re—oh, I don’t know—meant to be enjoying the night with us.”
The Aussie only scoffed slightly. “Sorry for being a caring boyfriend.” 
“More like a helicopter boyfriend,” Max grumbled under his breath, only to wince slightly when his teammate reached out to pinch his side. “Ouch!”
“Just give me back my phone,” Daniel asked with his hand extended out. “Please. I’ll send one more message and then I’m done for the night.” 
The boys all looked at each other, an unspoken conversation exchanged between the glances before eventually Lando sighed and handed him the phone across the table.
“One message,” was all he said and Daniel didn’t bother hiding his grin. 
However, when he looked down at his phone, he was surprised to find a handful of messages from you already, sent in the short amount of time he had been bickering with the other boys. His eyes glazed over the messages, suddenly glad the dark club couldn’t really pick up on his blushing cheeks.
sunshine: i miss you :( 
sunshine: these margaritas are strong af
sunshine: fuck i wish you were here
sunshine: i wish i could kiss you rn
sunshine: i wish i could do more than kiss you
You weren’t an overly affectionate person. It just wasn’t in your nature and Daniel had always respected that, he hadn’t minded all that much that you preferred to show your love behind closed doors where it was for him and him only. Yet, that being said, all of that went out the window the second you had some alcohol in your system. 
You had various personalities that popped out when you were drunk, but the most common one and Daniel’s personal favourite was your clingy drunk side. The side of you that just wanted to melt against him, to wrap yourself around him and kiss him every thirty seconds like you’d die without him. 
Selfishly, he wished he was with you the second he saw those messages, knowing that was the exact state you were in. He glanced around at his friends, a small pang of guilt working through him before he promised himself he would make it up to them. 
grumps: come home, i’m waiting for you
He slid his phone into his pocket, clapping his hands against the table to catch the other drivers’ attention before he gave them a sheepish smile. Lando was the first one to pick up on the meaning behind his expression. 
“Seriously?” The Brit whined. “We just got here!”
Daniel shrugged. “The missus gets what the missus wants.” 
Carlos rolled his eyes. “Is it what she wants or what you want?” 
“Listen, when you have a super hot girlfriend waiting for you, you’ll understand,” Daniel simply stated, ignoring the way a few of the boys opened their mouths to reply before he quickly made his way towards the exit.
He was home before you, which was unsurprising considering the club he was at was a walking distance from your shared apartment. The second he had made it through the door, he made his way into the kitchen to slide a pizza into the oven that would be done by the time you arrived home, though he decided against the glasses of wine he was about to pour. 
Daniel made a beeline towards the door the second he heard the lock clicking, a grin already on his face before you all but threw yourself against him. He laughed, sliding his arms around your body and lifting you off your feet as he hugged you close. 
“I missed you,” you mumbled against his chest before nuzzling yourself closer. “You smell nice.”
“Thanks, Sunshine,” he murmured with a grin, leaning down to kiss the crown of your head. “I missed you too.”
“Next time you’re coming with me,” you sighed.
“Or you come with me,” he suggested, laughing slightly when you lifted your head.
“My friends are more fun,” you said to him, glaring slightly when you noticed him struggling to hold back his amusement.
“Nah, you’re just still pissy that Max beat you at the shotgunning contest,” he teased, one arm still wound around your waist to hold you off the floor whilst the other raised to push some hair behind your ear. 
Your eyes narrowed. “He’s a cheat.”
“He won fair and square, baby,” he murmured before leaning down to kiss your lips before you could say anything else. “C’mon, the pizza is almost ready.” 
You sagged against him, the glare long gone and now replaced with a massive grin. “Did I mention that I love you?”
Daniel grinned. “Not nearly enough, Sunshine.”
.
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milesmolasses · 1 year
Text
I'm gonna kill you
miles morales x reader
if you don’t know what “throwing franks” means it basically means telling someone to “suck my dick” lmao
which reminds me the setting is nyc (bk)
is this what ppl call crack? idk man
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"miles I'm not playin with you right now, put my water bottle down I'm thirsty!"
miles walked around the dingy restaurant, my bottle in his hand, which was waved high in the air. "you gon have to come and get it than miss smart mouth! you keep playin with me like I can't beat you up," he joked.
miles has been my best friend ever since the middle of third grade when he switched his elementary school. i remember when he was this tiny, shy kid who sat at the back of the school basement for lunchtime since our school never had a formal lunchroom. all i wanted was to make a new friend, so i walked up to the shy new boy and ate my lunch with him. we would walk home together, play at the park together, and have cute lil playdates scheduled by our mothers; ah, yes, those were the times; up until now.
"bro, my bad, just give me my water bottle my mouth is on fire, no funny shit," i had my tongue out, breathing heavily. my mom owns this restaurant, where she cooks (insert culture) dishes for the world of Brooklyn to enjoy. this space doubled as our hang-out spot, considering i would stop by every day after school for free food. my mom had served me (insert dish) with extra spice; "try something new," they said. "it'll be delicious," they said. while yes, the food was good, the new added spices had me steaming at the ears, tongue out, huffing and puffing like a damn dog.
now you may be wondering, "who the hell told you to do this?" miles. it was always miles. he knows I don't usually stray from the usual dishes that i get every time we come here, but somehow he convinced me that trying something new would be good for me. so, i let him order on my behalf; this dude ordered me (insert cultural food)… with 3x the amount of hot sauce I usually get. leading us to now...
"'my bad' is not an apology, bozo, i need to hear you say what i want you to say," he said with the biggest smile on his face. all i did was throw a frank at him, and he chose to torment me, saying, "i was disrespectful." he wants a sorry? imma give him a damn sorry.
"ok ok I'm sorry, miles please just give me the bottle," this time, my eyebrows were furrowed and i made sure to put my acting skills to the test. miles gave me a worried look, scared that he actually went too far this time in his games. he gave me back the water bottle and came closer to me, examining my face to see if i was ok.
"yo, you good? I'm sorry i didn't know it was that deep. here you go drink this," he looked so sorry. he looked like he really regretted what he did to me, it almost made me feel bad for what i was about to say to him.
almost...
"yeah, it was that deep... deep in ya momma!" i watched as miles face slowly converted from looking worried to "what did this bitch just say to me?" i started to run out of the store as fast as i could, chugging the water down my throat with my mouth still on fire. miles was definitely faster than me, so i decided to hide somewhere, anywhere.
i turned the corner, body jerking forward so fast i almost fell face first into the concrete. i caught myself on my hands just in time as i kept my momentum and ran down the block. i looked behind me and he was literally right there in arms reach of me literally, reaching his arm out to grab me. i grabbed the door handle of an unknown store and stumbled into it.
there i could see several women and young girls look up from what ever they were doing to look at me. just as they were looking at me, miles ran in the store and came to an abrupt stop. great now even more people were staring; it was then i realized all the assortments of nail polish laid out neatly on different shelves. oh my god it was a nail salon. miles looked down at me with eyes wide open and a look on his face that screamed "oh hell nah." a lady from the front desk with a slim figure and a headwrap, came up to us and pulled us to the side.
"I'm sorry, you cant just run into this store and be rowdy. we have customers to attend to and they don't need disturbances." i looked up at miles to see him already responding to the lady with prayer hands, "I an so sorry about my friend here please forgive them, sometimes they're a bit hard to control. i think we'll be leaving now, once again, so sorry," he responded whilst dragging me by the shirt to leave the salon. once we were on the side walk again, i busted out laughing so hard, i had to hunch over and close my eyes to keep tears from falling out.
miles gave me the biggest side eye known to man as i laughed in the middle of the street, looking around for people possibly staring at us.
"i swear to god I'm gonna kill you when i get to your house."
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this was fun to write lmao
I was really just writing anything that came to mind
I did this once after 7th grade in the summer with some friends so that’s what I based this on
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peachhcs · 2 months
Text
the girl
hughes!sister x will smith au blurb (samy + will)
will comes back to boston with hickeys all over his chest and the boys love to chirp
0.7k words
warnings: implications of sex (but no sex described), hickeys, boys being boys. p.s i don't know the older guys on the bc team, so i just went with a guy named connor lmao anyways
i wrote this in like 20 minutes, but i wanted to post something since i haven't in a few weeks. school and life has been killing me 😀 i'm hoping to get more stuff out this coming week and if i don't pls hold me accountable so i do
au masterlist
will tugged his shirt off, ready to get himself into his gear for practice until he heard a gasp come from his left. the boy raised his eyebrow, following the sound until his eyes landed on ryan staring at him with wide-eyes. will quickly grew confused, raising his eyebrow, "what?" 
ryan covered his mouth in an attempt to hide his laughter while some of the other guys started taking notice in what was going on. will saw gabe and aram's eyes widen as well and the blonde suddenly became very conscious of all the eyes on him. 
"no fucking way. i never would've thought.." ryan started, still trying to hide his laughter. 
"you're losing me," will pulled his eyebrows together. the older guys didn't say anything, but they started snickering with one another at the freshman. 
"have you looked in the mirror recently?" gabe finally said. his words didn't make anymore sense until a second later when it finally pieced together in will's head. his eyes shot down to his bare chest, eyeing the pretty-looking purple and red bruises scattered across his chest and abs. the boy's cheeks flushed into the deepest shade of red. 
he totally forgot about those. 
"god, i had no idea hughesy could bite like that," ryan teased earning a slap against his head from will. 
"shut up," the blonde muttered. 
"wait, hughesy?" one of the older guys piped up. the freshman's eyes bounced to connor sitting in his own stall, lips flipping up into a smirk. 
"you don't mean—" 
"samy hughes? yeah. she's smitty's girl," ryan filled in the blanks. connor's eyes widened as well as some of the other older guys. 
"you didn't tell us you're dating the samy hughes," connor's laugh roared through the locker room. unfortunately, will's blush hadn't gotten any better as the guys kept talking. 
"they've been family friends for ages. been keeping the relationship on the down low," ryan kept explaining. 
"oh my god. we knew you had a girl, but not the girl. damn, smitty. better keep her around. she's a gem," connor chuckled. 
"considering his chest, i don't think he has any plans to get rid of her," gabe smirked as well. will just rolled his eyes, trying to hide his embarrassing blush as he shoved his warm-up on. 
"how many times did you guys do it this past weekend?" drew joined into the chirping making the other guys snicker. 
"i'm not talking about my sex life with you guys," will rolled his eyes again, but that only made the boys start hollering. 
"but you have done it before! you heard it here first, folks!" aram exclaimed. 
"i bet samy as an equal amount of hickeys on her own chest," ryan smirked. 
"no wonder why smitty has the best hands," that joke exploded the entire locker room. the blonde wished he could disappear in that moment or go back in time to where he didn't forget he had hickeys on his chest before he took his shirt off. 
"you guys are just jealous i have the girl," will shrugged. some of the boys whistled in response. 
"damn right you do!" one of the older guys called. the chirping finally died down and while will was incredibly flushed after all of that, he's ego couldn't be bigger at the moment knowing all the guys knew he had the girl and they were jealous. 
later that night, samy and will's facetime call connected. the brunette grinned widely as she propped her phone up against something. will quickly returned her smile, "hi beautiful." 
"hi will. how was your day?" samy wondered. 
"oh, wouldn't you like to know," gabe quickly stuck his head into the frame. will's face flushed as he tried pushing his friend away. samy raised her eyebrow, amusement on her features. 
"will you stop barging into my facetime calls?" will said to gabe. 
"everyone in the locker room saw the impressive hickeys you left on will's chest," gabe got out as will shoved him out of frame. the blonde's cheeks deepened into a nice red again while samy's own blush appeared across her face. 
"i forgot they were there," will mumbled. 
"shit, sorry will. how much shit did you get?" samy giggled a little. 
"we gave it to him, don't worry. the older guys didn't know you two were dating. called you the girl," gabe cut in again. 
"the girl?" samy raised her eyebrows. 
"i guess you're kind of a big deal," will chuckled some. 
"good to know. makes me wonder how you pulled me if i'm the girl," the brunette flirted some. 
"it's a miracle, isn't it?" 
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mauvewalker · 11 months
Text
You know one thing I’ve noticed being parroted around a lot are about how ‘sweet’ the strong boys are, just repeating what the protagonist Rhaenrya views her sons as she has stated it within the show herself. (Which is fine as people are entitled to their own opinions). I suppose it doesn’t help with the way the team black boys have been casted, younger actors & an actual teen matching the character’s age, looking all cherub/innocent like with the awkward hairstyles emphasises their youthful ages & the framing by show is heavily in the favour of the blacks.
Compare this to the team green boys Aemond and Aegon (both phenomenal actors perfectly cast to portray them) but considering Aemond is supposed to be a teen what 16 or 19? (the show-runners can’t seem to do basic maths, lol) however, as an audience member subconsciously Aemond is viewed as an adult & treated/judged as such with his actions. Again the negative framing by the show of him in manipulating the GA perceptions of the teams, I’m really surprised they didn’t play a villainous theme tune as like with Darth Vader every time he appeared on screen but I think that would have been a-bit too obvious, lmao. It’s not like the camera framework & Aemond’s get up in black, heavy smirking in the background isn’t already doing so.
Anyways having watched the show, I happen to be believe that they are not these sweet harmless little princes, in particular, Jace hides a much darker personality, imo. For instance, in the courtyard back at Kingslanding with Luke he says “it doesn’t matter what they think” so on the surface you could argue oh how sweet he is trying to comfort his brother but shows his self-entitlement in viewing the other lords/people as beneath them & we know Rhaenrya has told him “you are a Targaryen that’s all that matters” so it has been instilled in him this belief in the Targaryen exceptionalism being closer to gods than men because of their dragons. Also, that line mirrors young Rhaenrya with “their wants are of no consequence” about the small folk again showing self-entitlement & an attitude that would make them poor future leaders.
Jace having this belief instilled in him, I feel it would explain why they all picked on Aemond because whilst Aemond may be a legitimate true-born prince who was undeniably a Targaryen with the Valyrian looks, what didn’t he have? A dragon!! so Jace with his inferiority complex/issues & superiority complex combined, knowing he was a bastard targets/bullies Aemond unfairly for this (for being what he should have been if he was fathered by Laenor) to make Aemond feel bad, inferior & inadequate like him, which they were successful in.
As we saw this made Aemond risk his life attempting to claim a dragon with helaena saying “he did it again” (hinting that Aemond at 10-12 risked himself numerous times) and it was shown twice with his failed attempt with dreamfyre & his successful attempt with vhagar. As Rhaenyra has instilled in him being a Targaryen is the most important BS & the biggest symbolism of this is having a dragon. So, when Aemond finally claims a dragon, Jace is now unable to see or convince himself as better than or being more Targaryen than Aemond.
Hence, his anger when they all jumped him 4v1 beating him & when Aemond was managing to defend himself & calls them for what he is “a bastard” Jace’s rage comes out, not because he thought Aemond was going to kill Luke with a rock as he had lowered his hand holding it. It was Aemond saying “lord strong” which made him pull out the knife & slashing with the intent to kill him. Again Aemond managed to defend himself & the knife dropped on the floor, so obviously Aemond lifts the rock up again to use as a deterrent as there is now also a knife bought in the fight. The strong boys shared a glance & threw sand in his face blinding him & Luke slashed his eye.
We all know what happened after, they didn’t get punished for it, viserys sided with them reaffirming his favouritism & threatening to remove tongues for questioning their legitimacy. Rhaenyra didn’t care to discipline them for it, thus, reaffirming their self-entitlement that they are correct in their behaviours & did nothing wrong.
Another example of Jace self-entitlement, inferiority complex & bullying behaviour was during the toast speech. It was Aegon who pissed him off & some with an optimistic view would argue his toast was trying to bury the hatchet with “fond memories of our youth”, however, he was looking at Aemond with a slight smirk knowing full well it may have been fun for him it was not for Aemond- he was targeting him again when it was Aegon who bothered him & Aemond was minding his own business. The reason for this? Because he is comfortable to be looking down/belittling/bullying Aemond.
Again, with the dance with helaena, some would argue how chivalrous of Jace for feeling sorry for Heleana being alone but it was to piss off both Aegon & Aemond. Moving on, with the speech & then Luke laughing at the pig, Aemond loses his temper, rightly so. As all he was trying to do during the dinner was ignore them, both Jace & Luke have triggered him with the past, so he gives the infamous strong speech, to push back & give them a taste of their own medicine.
Jace is the one who then loses his temper & his first typical reaction when he does?? is to be physically violent & throws the first punch & which side does he purposely target?? Aemond’s blind/injured & vulnerable side of his face. The punch was laughable, Aemond didn’t even spill his drink & with one push was thrown down. Exactly like his younger behaviour showing no growth, he get back up & during this altercation, Luke had tried to join to gang up on Aemond again. So both brothers are unable to take the heat that they dish out & fight fairly 1 to 1, but, really what could’ve Luke have really done, lmao.
They should of known when they saw Aemond earlier that day in the courtyard training. At the time, it’s clear both strong boys didn’t know it was him (with the typical targaryen blonde hair they maybe could of mistaken him for Aegon) & were super impressed with his prowess/skill, before he turned around with the eyepatch & their faces said it all, like ‘oh shit’ & then soured that the person who they perceived weaker/beneath them during childhood is a skilled swordsman, unlike them. Another thing that Aemond has/is that the strong boys don’t to add to Jace’s list, alongside having both of a mix of a inferiority complex & superiority complex, a ‘sweet prince’ he is not.
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urdrowning · 1 year
Note
Hi :)
If you are taking requests, could you please do a Leah oneshot?
Maybe one where reader is really famous (a singer/model/actress/or whatever) and her and Leah have been dating for a while in secret. And Leah’s teammates are suspicious of who’s she’s always spending time with or texting.
Also if you could, could you include Leah introducing reader to them?
Could be England or Arsenal teammates. Or both lol.
Thank you :))
AN - tysm for the request !! i kinda got lazy at the end cause i caught covid while writing LMAO. i don’t really like the ending. MAYBEEEE i have a part two in mind of a soft launch.. maybe i don’t..
superstar / l. williamson
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celebrity relationships are always awkward. when you’re under constant spotlight, it can be hard to settle down. finding someone who actually loves you for yourself, and not for your status isn’t easy. so that’s why you truly believe yourself to be the luckiest of the bunch.
leah williamson, your diamond in the rough.
you met leah at the BRIT awards in 2022. the minute you made eye contact with her brilliant blue eyes, electricity coursed its way through the both of you. the two of you spent the entire night together, getting to know each other. sat on tables next to each other, conversing through the speeches and nominations.
“if you win this award, i’ll take you on a date.”
she smirks at you and you’re taken aback. you’ve been so caught up in her presence that you didn’t realise that your section was up. you and your band have been nominated for the best upcoming artist award (tbh idk if this is a thing. if it’s not, pretend it is) before you even know it, the announcer has taken the stage and begins to announce the winner.
“and the winner of the best upcoming artist award is..”
you can barely even comprehend what they are saying, you’re rather distracted by leah’s hand, as she moves it to discreetly hold yours under the table. you’re in a blur as the announcer continues and you don’t even hear who wins. but, judging by how your band mates have all stood-up and look like they’ve won the lottery, you’ve got a pretty decent bet. you get hoisted up by your band mates as you walk on stage for the group’s acceptance speech. you let your band mates do the talking, as you’re too dazed to even think. (this very much goes viral in with your fans. your ‘fish out of water look’ is now a fan favourite meme)
despite suffering from equally massive hangovers, she’s true to her word, leah took you out on a date the following night. even though it was a small date at the arcade, you would probably still consider it one of your most fondest memories. on your third date, you kissed her. then, on the following night, she showed up on your doorstep, flowers in hand, asking you to be her girlfriend.
your one year anniversary together is approaching and the two of you are still as inseparable as you were when you first met. despite not being together for long, the both of you are unable to picture a future without the other in it.
leah is a private person, as are you. you both agreed to keep your relationship quiet and between yourselves. but, with your relationship approaching it’s first milestone, the both of you are getting restless. neither your family nor your friends are aware of your relationship.
how you’ve managed to keep it a secret from your band mates is a mystery of scooby doo fame. especially since you literally share an apartment with one of them. you consider your band mates your own found family, your forever bestfriends. each of you have been best friends since secondary school, and clearly, have been inseparable since. ironically, you’re all major football enthusiasts as well. you and your band mates are die hard lioness fans, even attending the euro’s competition in support (again, it’s a mystery how they didn’t find out. leah wouldn’t stop smiling at you in the crowd) leah struggled as well, her teammates are getting suspicious. the way she hides her phone from them as she giggles at it when you text.
“you’re seeing someone, aren’t you.”
leah’s head shoots up from her phone at the voice, only to be met with a suspicious looking keira walsh. looking at her with an accusatory stare.
“w.. what are you talking about?”
leah stutters out in an attempts to deny it all, but keira can see right through her, and is determined to get the truth out.
“don’t pretend leah, i know somethings up.”
leah sighs and looks down, avoiding kiera’s glare. she shrugs her shoulders lightly and appears similar to a child who’s got caught breaking the rules. she then reluctantly and awkwardly mutters
“yeah, i guess i’ve being seeing someone..”
keira’s stern gaze breaks as she excitedly sits down next to her friend and grabs her arms, flinging her about as she rapidly fires questions at her.
“who is it? what are they like? how long have you guys been together? are you being safe?”
leah looks mortified. she’s getting overwhelmed with the amount of questions that are being fired at her.
“keira, for gods sake, slow down! we’ve been together for almost a year now, and she treats me well.”
keira pauses her movements, looking at leah with her mouth agape.
“.. a YEAR?? who is she?”
——
“i’m so sorry, babe. i didn’t mean for this.”
leah feels incredibly guilty. she stares at you through the phone screen after relaying the earlier events to you. you’ve been quiet since she started telling you, appearing to be lost in thought. after leah’s fifth apology, it seems you snap out of your trance and smile at her.
“leah, honey, breathe. it’s okay, i’m not mad. it’s about time we started telling people.”
you truly mean it, you honestly feel quite relieved that she made the first move in telling her teammates, as you’ve been fairly close to cracking the news to your band mates yourself.
the thought of telling your band mates makes you nervous, you don’t know why. there’s nothing bad about your relationship. it’s not like you’re dating someone 29 years younger than you (looking at you, leo dicaprio) besides, they are lioness fans themselves and would most likely be elated at the news of you dating their team captain.
“i know, but i should’ve talked with you before-hand.”
leah secretly is filled with relief as well, she no longer has to hide her love from her friends. but it doesn’t make her feel any better about how she told them.
“you’re talking to me about it now, i think that’s enough.”
she shakes her head lightly, fighting off a smile. you always manage to cheer her up, no matter what. it’s as if you have super powers.
“i would’ve told you sooner, but keira’s loudmouth blabbed it to the rest of the team. i’ve been questioned all night.”
the minute she had free time, she’d facetimed you straight away. after she found out who leah was dating, keira’s shocked exclamation of your name definitely didn’t go unheard. her england teammates had hounded her with question after question about you and your relationship together.
you’re about to reply to her before she lets out a yawn. you check the time and realise it’s late into the night.
“go rest, sleepy. i’ll talk to rory and get her to speak to my other band mates for me. i’ll speak to you in the morning, okay? love you.”
she smiles at you sleepily as she mumbles
“love you too, goodnight..”
you end the call and take a deep breathe as you prepare to face your bandmate/roommate, rory. you and her have been inseparable for years. you always planned on telling her first out of your friends and family, you have the utmost trust for her and you’re hoping she’ll be understanding and not upset at you for hiding your relationship from her. you exhale slowly as you get up from your bed and knock on her door.
——
leah 💗:
‘my teammates want to meet you x’
the text almost instantaneously shoots anxiety through your veins. despite being a big fan of them, meeting leah’s teammates is an incredibly daunting thing. they intimidate the hell out of you.
y/n 🤍:
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leah 💗:
‘baby it’s okay. if you’re not comfortable with it i’ll tell them no x’
yn 🤍:
‘no no. ofc i want to meet them, they’re just intimidating is all’
leah 💗:
‘aw babe you’re cute 🥰 they’re harmless. and i’ll stop them if they make u uncomfortable. promise x’
you both texted for a little while longer while agreeing that leah would come pick you up and take you to meet her teammates.
you told your band mates last night and it went down well. they were slightly hurt that you kept it from them but were mostly just excited for you and in shock that you managed to pull leah williamson herself. your train of thought is interrupted from the vibration of your phone, lighting up with a text from leah to let you know she’s outside.
she grins at you as you get into the passenger side of her car, leaning over to kiss you cheek.
“are you sure about this?”
she mumbles against your cheek, you can sense her nerves. she’s not nervous because she’s ashamed of you. she’s nervous because she can’t guarantee that her teammates will behave around you.
“i’m sure. i want to do this, it’s important to me.”
she smiles slightly at you, your words holding a great value to her. she then gives you one last kiss on the cheek before she starts the car and drives.
——
“girls, this is y/n. i’m sure you already know her, but please, be nice. she’s really important to me.”
leah’s grip on your hand tightens towards the end of her sentence as her sincerity shines through. it’s true, she cares about you enough to go to the ends of the earth for you.
“hi, it’s really good to meet you all. i’m a big fan.”
the rest of the girls sit there, disbelieving.
“YOU’RE a fan of US”
you chuckle sheepishly, using your freehand to play with the hem of your shirt nervously, one glance at the lionesses faces and you know you’re in for a tornado’s worth of questions. with a deep inhale, you smile and look at them.
“ask away.”
——
after being bombarded with question after question, the awkward and intense atmosphere has long left the room and you’re sat comfortable between leah and georgia. leah’s arm is wrapped comfortably and protectively around your shoulders, one glance at her face and you can see that she’s on cloud nine. all her favourite people are seamlessly bonding and she couldn’t be happier about it.
“let’s play a game!”
the loud voice of ella toone shouts, followed by the loud agreements of the lionesses. ella then excitedly follows up with a shout of ‘duck, duck goose’ but nobody else wants to play that. (ella hmu i wanna play duck duck goose with you so bad)
“y/n! if i win, i get to choose your next album cover!”
mary shouts, you smile at her and agree, feeling confident.
(you lost, now you have to explain to your band mates that mary earp’s is in charge of your next album cover.)
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