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starkeyscvmsock · 3 months

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About: Y/n knows her best friend of 12 years, JJ Maybank, has feelings for her so she goes out of her way to tease him. Until one day, he snaps.

MDNI, 18!

It started off small.

The lingering looks and touches that lasted a little too long to be classed as friendly. The way he couldn't rip his eyes from me when it was a hot day, the hot Chateau causing sweat beads to drop down my neck that he seemed transfixed by when my hair was up. It only took me 12 years to realise my best friend, the notorious play boy JJ Maybank, had feelings for me.

I don't like seeing people in pain, no, not at all. But I like the strained look on JJ's face when I mean to bend over a little longer than necessary when picking something up from the floor. Or how his fist clenches when I lick a long line up my ice pop when the weather calls for one. That's why I decided that we should play a little game, one that he didn't know we were playing. I would tease him, play with him until he snapped and either walked off because he couldn't handle it anymore or he would take an even bigger sip of his drink or puff of his joint, whichever poison he'd chosen for the day, hoping to clear his thoughts of black hair and teasing smiles.

I was just waiting for the day that he would finally snap and take me. Show me how much he wants me.

I started our little game on the day of a bonfire at the beach. I had been walking around in nothing but a bikini top and shorts, the humidity of the day and the crackling fire causing many girls to do the same, not being able to handle the unbearable heat. JJ was in nothing but a pair of swimming trunks, droplets of salt water falling down his shining torso from the surf he had returned from only moments ago. "Hey JJ," I smiled as I approached him, noticing the way his gaze perused my body and the tips of his fingers turn white as he clenched the neck of the beer bottle he was holding.

"Y/n, hey. Didn't know you were coming today, Kiara said you weren't feeling so good" he asked with a hint of worry in his eyes. "Oh, I'm fine now, was just a little run down this morning" I shrugged as I flashed him one of my smiles that no one could resist, hopefully my best friend too. Truth is, I was still feeling a little under the weather, my head aching a little. But a little headache wasn't going to stop me playing this game with my unsuspecting opposition. "Oh, great. Wanna smoke, I bought some with me" JJ grinned, his dimples on display on his golden tanned cheeks, a hint of pink from the heat.

"Um duh," I laughed. "But first I need a little help with something" I said as I stepped a little closer to him, my feet digging into the sand. "Uh, yeah of course. What do you need?" He asked. I dug into the back pocket of my shorts, fishing out my little bottle of sunscreen that I had already applied. "I forgot to put this on, and I really don't want to burn but I can't reach my back. Help a girl out?" I fluttered my lashes and held out the bottle to him. "Yeah. Yeah, sure" he cleared his throat and stuck his beer bottle into the sand before standing up straight.

A vein protruded on his forehead as he stared the bottle down as if there was a snake inside, ready to launch itself at him. "Ok then" I grinned as I placed the bottle in his hands and turned away from him. I lifted my hair from my neck, tantalisingly slow as I took a small step back, feeling the heat radiating from him on my back. "Um, ahem, just your back yeah?" He asked as I heard the lid pop open and the sound of it squirting into his hands. "Mhm" I smiled at him over my shoulder.

I winced a little at the cold feeling of the lotion was placed on my back, but it soon became soothing as JJ's large hands rubbed it in, spreading from my shoulders down to the dimples at the bottom of my back. His cold ring would scratch my skin now and then, making me painfully aware of his touch. Looking back, perhaps that game was played by him, as I'm sure he wasn't the main one affected by his hands on me.

The second round of our game was when we had snuck into one of the many vacant properties on the island. We had all decided to split up and see if we could find anything interesting but with my game plan in mind, I had decided to tag along with JJ. Only, when we heard the sound of heavy footfalls and a security dog barking, I had grabbed his shirt and dragged him into a small closet with him. I almost wanted to thank the security for almost busting our chops as my back plastered to his front, his warm breath tickling my neck as I lay my head back on his chest.

"Cosy, huh?" I smirked as I heard the footsteps and pattering of the dog's claws on the hardwood floor getting further and further away from the closet. I leant forward, peeking through the closet door that was cracked open an inch, arching my back and pressing my ass further into his body, into the bulge in his thin shorts that I could feel hardening by the second. A satisfactory smirk fell across my face when I heard his breath hitch and his hand graze the bare skin of my thigh. I waited for his hand to move, to reach under my sun dress and show me how much I affected him. I suppose I'll never know if he would've as Pope came and yanked the closet door open, sighing in relief when he saw us in there, before exclaiming that we had to get out of there. JJ couldn't look at me for the rest of the night.

The third round was during a night we were all smoking, even Pope. Kiara and Pope had fallen asleep as we lay out on the H.M.S. Pogue while John B had been inside for a few minutes, rifling around the cupboard for snacks. I had pulled JJ over to me, asking him if he'd ever shotgunned before. When he had warily shook his head, I laced my fingers through the soft hair at the back of his head, pulling him close to me. I took a long puff of the joint I had rolled before inching even closer to him; one small movement and our lips would touch. I bought my hand up to his face, the whole time his face strained, and his eyes glazed over. I used my thumb to open his mouth slightly before blowing the smoke into his mouth.

He had inhaled it before tilting his head the side, his breathing becoming heavier. His tongue peeked out to wet his now dry lips, and I almost jumped when I felt his tongue flick over my lip from our proximity, gone before I could even tell it was there. "I've got cheetos and twinkies!" John B yelled as he came barrelling out of the house. I pulled away and looked over at JJ, his chest rising up and down faster than normal and his jaw clenched. Checkmate baby, round three complete.

Round four was when JJ almost snapped, I almost cracked his façade and had him right where I wanted him. We were at the Chateau, drinking with a couple of other Pogues when one of them had the bright idea to play truth or dare. "Y/n" Stacey, one of the girls from maths class had slurred. "I dare you to do a body shot off of the hottest guy in the room" she giggled. Feeling a little tipsy, but not drunk enough to not realise an opportunity when one presented itself to me, I tapped my finger on my chin and scanned the room as if I was looking or the right candidate. "Ok" I shrugged as if I had finally come to a conclusion on who I was going to choose.

"JJ, you're gonna need to lay down" I smirked as I poured the tequila into a shot glass without looking up. "M-me?" he stammered as his eyebrows furrowed. "Yes, you" I laughed before I looked to the other guys sitting beside him on the couch. "You two, up" I ordered as I walked around the table. "Are you sure? I mea-" I cut JJ off, "Yes, I'm sure stupid. Now lay down" I ordered again. "Oh, and take off your shirt" I smiled. He did as I said, revealing his chiselled torso before laying down on the small couch, one leg straight over the armrest while the other stayed on the floor.

I zoned everyone out, situating myself between his legs as his fist clenched, his abs flexing as he looked down at me. I bought my hair over to one side and stared into his eyes as I licked a long strip up his torso. I revelled in the fact that I felt his hips flex under me and the sight of his eyes squeezing closed for not even a second before they opened to watch me again. I poured the salt on the strip of saliva I had just created and placed the shot glass carefully over his belly button. "Open wide" I grinned, feeling satisfaction slither down my spine as he instantly obeyed, opening his mouth so that I could place the lime wedge on them.

Finally, I licked the salt up the same path I had created earlier before placing my lips around the rim of the shot glass, seeing JJ's pulse point flutter on his neck as I did so before I threw my head back and felt the burn of the liquor seep down my throat. Leaving no time to waste, I took my lips off the shot glass and moved up his body, placing my hand on his hot heaving chest before I lowered my mouth to his, sucking the juice from the slice of lime. Once the juice had finished, I took the wedge out of his mouth but kept my mouth lowered, flicking my tongue on the droplet of juice that had began to trickle down his jaw, licking it up before sucking it into my mouth.

"Fuck, y/n, I-" JJ cut himself off as I stayed hovered over him, his eyes never left mine looking into them as if he could see every thought racing through my mind. His fingers flexed and I hadn't even realised that at some point through that, his hand had made it's way to my hip, his grip strong as his fingers dug into me, absently pulling me closer to him. His head tilted up just an inch, and I was ready to forget everything, lay it all out on the table and take him right there and going from the look on his face it seemed as though he felt the same. "Well, that was hot" Kiara laughed as our bubble popped and everything zoned back in around me. And there we had it, round four was over and who had won that one? I didn't think I liked the answer to that.

That bought us to round 5. One that I wouldn't know when or how to start but with the way JJ was looking with his white top accentuating his muscles and the blue jeans hugging his narrow waist, I knew something had to give. He stood with JJ and Pope by the edge of the makeshift dancefloor that Stacey had moved her couches to create as bodies danced and swayed. Me and KIara stood by the makeshift bar, pouring liquor into our red solo cups. "So, when are you two going to admit it?" the sound of her voice pulled me out of my ogling, causing me to spill a little bit of vodka over my hand as I finally pulled my gaze away from JJ.

"What do you mean?" I asked, as I used a napkin to wipe the spillage, unaware of what she could be talking about. "Don't play dumb, Y/n. I don't know about dumb and dumber over there but I've noticed the way you and JJ look at each other. You like each other and, honestly, I am like so freakin' here for it" she laughed as she watched my bewildered face.

"JJ needs someone to put him in his place and you? You need someone that will care for you as much as you care for them" she paused with a small smile on her face. "And if there's one thing I know about JJ, it's that he cares. For you more than anyone else I'm sure of it" her words hit me and as I looked to JJ, his head tipped back with laughter, his eyes bright and beautiful, I knew one thing. The game had been rigged the whole time, I was the one having my heart strings played with.

"Now, I'm sorry about this but, it has to be done" Kiara smiled. "What?" I looked to her in confusion but yelped as she poured all of her drink down the front of my white shirt. "Oh my God!" she fake gasped as JJ, John B and Pope ran over. "I am just such a klutz" she said as I stared down at the front of my shirt, aware that it was quickly becoming see through. "JJ! Take her upstairs and help her dry this, I'm sure there'll be a hair dryer or something" Kiara didn't give us a chance to respond before she pushed us both towards the stairs. "You don't have to-" I didn't get to finish my sentence before JJ grabbed my arm and yanked me up the stairs. "Quick, come on" he said as we passed passed out teens and making out teens and oh, vomiting teens. "Why the hurry?" I panted as we finally reached a room at the end of the hall after JJ had practically made us run here. "Your top, it's uh, ahem" he didn't look anywhere but at the bed as I closed the door behind us, shrouding us in darkness. "Didn't want anyone to see" he mumbled as he took his cap off, throwing it onto the bed before running his hand through his messed-up hair. "Oh" I said as I flicked on the light switch before looking down, noticing that my red bra was on clear display as well as my tanned skin, the fabric of my top now clinging to me like a second skin.

I peeled it over my head before stalking over to JJ, my step slow and deliberate. His eyes stayed locked on the bed that he was stood beside, as if when he looked away the world would implode. The world wouldn't but if he didn't look at me I just might. I dropped the top onto the bed, beside his cap as I heard him huff out a large breath of air, his eyes now closed and jaw clenched. "You gonna help me dry off?" I whispered as I placed my hand on his jaw, helping him to slowly look towards me until finally he was facing me, his eyes still closed.

"Open your eyes JJ" I said, my voice quiet as I stroked my fingers across the sharp ridge of his jaw. "I can't. We can't, you're my best friend" he breathed out, his fists flexing down by his side. "Best friends take care of each other, let me take care of you" by the time I had finished speaking, his eyes had finally peeled open, and he looked at me, not straying any lower than my eyes. "You can look at me JJ" although he was already looking at me, he knew what I meant. I took his large hands in mine and placed them on my bare waist, his warm hands soothing on my cold skin. He took a deep breath before finally looking down at my chest, my red lace bra now soaking and sticking to my skin.

I lifted my hands, laying them on the clasps of my bra and ready to undo them when suddenly JJ was yanking my arms down and pulling me to him so our chests were plastered together. "No," he breathed out as he ripped my arms forward. "If we're doing this, we're doing it my way" it's like a switch had been flipped, his eyes unsure and wary only moments ago, now full of fire and dominance. "Take your shorts off and get on the bed" he ordered. My breath stuttered in my throat but I quickly did what he said, my hands racing to pop open the button and drag down the zipper as JJ tossed the wet top and his cap off the bed, clearing the space for me. For us.

I lay on the bed and I didn't wait long before JJ knelt on the edge of the bed, pulling his top over the top of his bed before crawling over to me. "You think I didn't know, don't you?" he smirked as he finally leant over me, I looked up at him, a pounding in my heart and just as hard between my legs. "You thought you were seducing poor, pining JJ, the one that had no control when you would leave him hard for hours, wishing he had your cunt, your mouth, your hands to easy the aching I had for you" he chuckled, and my heartbeat picked up, scared of this patronising JJ, but God, so so turned on.

"But really," he began as he snaked his hand around me, popping open the clasps of my bra with ease before pulling it off completely. He stared down at my breasts for a moment, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as he took in my hard, pebbled nipples begging to be touched by him. "But really, I had the power" he continued. "You came to ME, you left me hard and aching, yes that's true, but you ached and wanted me just as bad didn't you?" he reached up and when his fingers finally closed around my nipple, I breathed out a sigh of relief. Like a starved man, he took my other breast into his mouth and sucked on it, hard. I let out a small yelp, threading my fingers through his hair as hi flicked his tongue around the peak and twisted the other between his long cruel fingers.

He pulled away, leaving my chest heaving, as he looked down at my body, taking in my heaving chest, my clenching thighs and my lips that stayed parted, trying to steal back the oxygen he seemed to have stolen from my body. "God, you're beautiful" he breathed out as he trailed his hand down my torso. When he reached my panties, he looked into my eyes as if for a sign of permission. "Please" I pleaded, earning a devilish smirk from him as he peeled my panties down my legs. Kiara had only spilt her drink down my top, but she might as well have pointed a hose filled with drink between my legs from the wetness I felt between them.

"You're soaking, made a real mess of your panties, didn't you Y/n?" he chuckled as he spread my legs, nestling in between them. "Didn't you?" he repeated, punctuating his question with a slap to the inside of my thigh, making a yelp slip from my lips. "Yes! Yes" I whimpered. "Let me have a taste baby" he breathed out as he lowered himself slowly to my aching core. His fingers were digging into my thighs, keeping them apart as my hips flexed, needing his mouth on me.

After what felt like eternity, his tongue dipped out and licked a long stripe up my folds, collecting the wetness that he had caused. JJ's eyes rolled to the back of his head and a groan rumbled out of his throat as his eyebrows furrowed. His eyes snapped open, pinning me with his ocean blue eyes as he pulled me even closer, something I had deemed an impossible task. "You're going to be the death of me" he grumbled before diving back in, sucking, licking biting. His nose nudged my clit as his tongue ravaged inside of me. My hips bucked off the bed and my hands clawed at his hair, the feeling he created something I had never felt before. "Fuck, JJ" I whimpered, my eyes squeezing shut and back bowing. The moan that left his throat vibrated against my core.

One of his hands clawed at my breast, his fingers greedy and desperate as the other pinned down my hips. His tongue made circles inside of me, before retreating and sucking hard on my clit, the light pinch of his teeth against me shattered me. "I'm going to- fuck, I-I'm coming" I groaned out as my mouth dropped open. White hot heat travelled from my curling toes, up my legs that were thrown over JJ's shoulders and to my core. "That's right baby" he groaned as he helped me ride out my wave, slowing down his actions.

I panted, spent and hot as JJ rose over me before cradling my face in his hands. "You amaze me" he whispered. I smirked as I flipped him over, shocking him and relishing in the look of surprise on his beautiful face. "Oh, we're playing like that?" he smirked as he rested his hands on my waist. I leant down to whisper in his ear, "Don't forget who would leave you aching and hard when you were pining over me" I smirked before running my tongue down his jaw and neck, stopping every now and then to softly bite him. "You drive me crazy and you know it" I could hear the smirk in his voice as he tilted his head to the side, making it easier for me to tease his neck with my lips and teeth. "Let me show you how crazy you make me" I breathe out, the material of his jeans underneath me, sore on my sensitive core. I pulled back, looking in his eyes and I slowly pulled the zipper down, smirking when e both raise our hips in unison so that I can pull them down and eventually off. My smirk falls when I look down, his cock hard and angry, the precum leaking out of the pink tip only the cusp of what's aching to get out. "Scared, cupcake?" I can hear the tease of his voice.

"I can handle you" I say, before yelping as he flips me back over, trapping me beneath him as he lifts the underside of my knees, wrapping them around his waist. "I know you can baby, now be a good girl and take all of me" he smirks. Before a retort can leave my mouth, a gasp does as he slowly inches his way inside of me, the wetness of my previous orgasm helping me accommodate the fact that he's stretching me. "Ohh, fuck" I whine, my stomach tensing as he still brings himself closer, not even all the way in yet. "Relax baby, I'll make you feel real good, don't worry" he breathes out as he looks down to where we're joined, entranced by the sight of himself sliding inside of me. "Fuck, you're so tight" he huffs out a breath as he finally bottoms out. He looks up into my eyes before slowly retreating and bringing himself back again, his slow thrusts hitting a spot inside of me that's never been touched before. "So" he hisses, hitting an extra hard thrust, "fucking" another harder thrust, "good" he speaks through his gritted teeth before grabbing my hips and speeding up, the sound of our wet skin smacking together an erotic sound I never want to leave my head. "Shit JJ" I groan, my head digging into the pillows beneath me as I throw my head back. JJ takes the action as an opportunity as he latches onto my neck, his teeth sinking into me, the feeling shooting down to my core as he licks and bites the underside of my jaw.

"I'm close" I breathe out as my hips rais to meet his thrusts. A yelp escapes me as he retreats from my body before flipping me over and tugging my hair back before slamming back into me. "Come on baby, take me. All of me, that's it good girl" he grits out into my ear as his fingers dig into the flesh of my ass that he's pounding into. "JJ" I mean as his long fingers move from my hair and slowly circling my throat, applying the right amount of pressure to make my toes curl and make my eyes roll to the back of my head. "Come with me, together baby" he groans as his hips stutter and his breath skates over my shoulder before I feel his warm release coating my insides. For the second time tonight, stars dance across my vision and my mouth drops open in silent pleasure.

Small whimpers and groans leave JJ's mouth, playing by my ear before my head drops and my body goes limp, JJ's chest rising and down above me. "You ok?" He whispers as he pushes my hair out of my face. "I'm ok" I smile, mustering up all of my energy to flip myself over so that I'm on my back. "Y/n?" I look over at JJ who's lying beside me leaning on his elbow, his hair messy from my greedy fingers, his cheeks pink and a dopey grin on his face. "Yeah?" I smile up at him. He leans over and kisses my forehead, each of my eyes, my nose and finally, after 12 years, his lips rest on mine and we kiss, the sparks inside my body coming to life.

"I love you."

#jj maybank #jj outer banks #smut #jj maybank smut #imagine #jj smut

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teyamsatan · 11 months

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𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕚𝕟 𝕄𝕖 | ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕀𝕀: 𝕀 𝔸𝕞 𝕃𝕠𝕤𝕥, 𝔹𝕦𝕥 ℕ𝕠𝕥 𝕀𝕟 𝕐𝕠𝕦

Pairing: Neteyam x (f)Omaticaya!Reader

synopsis: in order to fulfil your revenge plans on Neteyam, you have to give up a lot of your life, including a future with a man who loves you dearly.

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, aged-up! Neteyam/Reader, enemies-to-lovers, angst (@lanasblood trying to be better about this), smut (fingering, orgasm denial), strong language, neteyam and reader being horrible to each other lol

wc: 6.5k words

a/n: things are starting to get spicy besties 😌 i have to admit, although i am a lot more comfortable with friends-to-lovers, or more angsty tropes, i adore writing the sexual tension that comes with e2l and i hope i did it justice and you enjoy this chapter. i can't wait to hear your thoughts, bbs and thank you again for all the love and support on this series xx (thank you very much also to @cinetrix for her amazing Neteyam art ily bestie x)

this is only half proof-read, so if you see any mistakes no you don't

na'vi compendium: yawne - beloved, Tsakarem - Tsa'hik in training, tìlor - beauty, txepvi - spark

: ̗̀➛ previous chapter (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series playlist (x)

In a perfect world, I'd kill to love you the loudest But all I do is live to hurt you soundless Say you see I'm lying, babe, and let this go I can never promise you tomorrow

The departing footsteps echoed through the forest as O'ì'en left you all alone, with a broken heart and the man that broke it, and the feeling left you empty, the hurt of what transpired, of what he did, what you did, how with each passing blow to each other’s lives, this was no longer just a petty rivalry but felt like so much more, like too much more. You threatened him, you spit all sorts of petty warnings about hell and burning - and in the heat of the moment, that sounded cool, and doable. Not anymore, as you stood motionless in the clearing and realised that Neteyam still had so much power over you, that his grasp on your life and on your heart was so tight, tighter than anyone else’s, tight enough to bruise and crush it with a tug of his fisted fingers. You removed yourself from his grasp like his touch burned you, which it felt like it did, and put distance in between your bodies, so that you could see him, so that you could clear your mind, so that his presence wouldn’t have the effect on you it always did, that you were sure was just your body recoiling in hatred, that always manifested itself in goosebumps and shivers down your spine.

“You’re such a fucking asshole.” The tears stung as you willed them back into your tear ducts. It’s been 7 years since Neteyam has seen you cry, and you’ll be damned if that would ever change, and especially right now, as you watched the smirk grow with every departing step, with every erratic blink of your eyes, as you tried to stop them from falling down your face, as he knew he got to you, that he made you pay for the words you uttered to him before.

“Oh, yawne. One day you’ll learn to not punch above your weight, and I guess since no one else is willing to, it falls onto me to teach you.” He walks slow, purposeful steps as he nears you once more, and his eyes boring into you, filled with intensity and a feeling you couldn’t quite place, that didn’t quite match the arrogance staining his lips like poison, stilled you in your spot, until he was so close, you could feel his warm breath and musky scent, until your heart boomed painfully in your chest, echoing loudly in your ears, marginally drowning out his next words.

“Did you really think you could threaten me and everything I’ve worked for, my relationship and the rest of my life, without any repercussions, huh? Did you really think I would go down without a fight?”

His hand raised and reached to push some unruly strands of hair out of your face, and you couldn’t look away from the soft glimmer in his eyes, that was so at odds with the rest of his face, you wondered if he even knew it was there. You wondered if he knew what it signified, because you didn’t. And despite your best efforts otherwise, you couldn’t deny the curiosity that deluged you, to try and find out.

The hint in his molten golden orbs dissipated as quickly as it appeared, and so did any middling emotion that tried you, as you once more found yourself reaching for your knife and unsheathing it, holding it in between both your hands, aiming for a shoulder… or a neck, and with a feral growl, you pushed your entire forced into the blow, and yelped in pain as one of his hands wrapped around both your wrists and twisted until the knife dropped pitifully on the ground with a loud clink. Tears threatened you once more at how futile the effort had been, how easy for him to overpower you like you were nothing more than a child, or a doll. He pinned your hands above your head and pushed you until your back collided with the bark of a tree and you felt the wind getting knocked out of your lungs at the contact.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk… why must you always resort to violence… yawne?” Your eyes widened as the hand that wasn’t holding you ghosted over your cheeks, tracing the air right above your lips with his thumb, and you were struggling, yet again, with the feelings that were plaguing you, that made burning appear everywhere his fingers were, burning the travelled down your body until they reached your core, that throbbed and clenched, that desperately asked you for something you would never, ever give it. After exploring your face, and tracing your jaw, his fingers finally settled on your chin, pushing it gently until your face angled upwards to meet his and no further breath could inch its way down your airways at the sight of him, at the way he looked at you, at the way it made you feel.

“You told me that you won’t mind burning in Hell as long as I burn with you. Well…” he broke eye contact to look around him at the forest surrounding you both. “Do you hear that, yawne? Fire is catching. And looks like we’re going to get to burn together after all.”

“Let me go. I told you what would happen if you ever touched me again.” His smirk never faltered, but only deepened as his eyes trailed over your body, settling on your lower abdomen.

“Mmm, yawne. I’m not sure you mean that.” It was your turn to reciprocate his guise, no ounce of shame or hesitation on your face.

“Let me go and you’ll find out whether I mean it or not.” his eyes widened, if only for a split second, and you felt like you imagined his grip on you loosening, or the fleeting sight of goosebumps peppered on his chest and neck, where your warm breath touched him.

“Are you really going to miss your chance to find lover boy and apologise like the good girl you like people to think you are?”

Your eyes lost momentary focus as he spoke. His words, although as cruel as usual, made guilt peak its ugly head over the thin-veiled curtain it was hiding behind, and you knew he was right. This was irrelevant. This whole fandangle of aggression and snarky remarks you always engaged in was not what should be occupying your brain, it wasn’t what mattered. O'ì'en mattered. Fixing Neteyam’s damage… and your own - that’s the only thing that mattered right now.

“Funny how quickly you seem to have forgotten about the one you supposedly love so much when I have your hands pinned above your head, isn’t it… yawne.”

His hands trailed over your arm as if on accident as he let you go and you felt embarrassed. Embarrassed at his words, at his effect on you, at how hard you were fighting your own body and mind as they were struggling to regain composure from his touch, and his voice, and his presence.

Hate. That’s all it was. It consumed you, and you wish it didn’t, but at the end of the day, it was still just harmless, bona fide, unadulterated hate. You ignored the way your cheeks caught fire and burned beneath your skin as you ran towards the village, towards where you assumed O’i’en was headed, without sparing your biggest, your only enemy a second glance.

'Cause I have yet to learn how not to be his This city will surely burn if we keep this as it is

You spent hours searching for him, but despite trying every place you knew he liked to frequent, all efforts proved futile. You knew he wouldn’t want to be found, but still, you held a glimmer of hope in your heart that at least subconsciously, he’d want you to find him, to allow him to explain what was mostly inexplainable and inexcusable - you couldn’t blame him for proving you wrong.

Eventually, as eclipse was nearing with each passing moment, defeated and regretful, you went to the nearby river, that was almost deserted due to the approaching evening, that you hoped would bring you some answers, or some solace… some strength. What were you supposed to do? Were you supposed to listen to Eywa, and your own heart telling you to go for this mateship that you knew was wrong, but felt drawn towards, for your own twisted, sadistic reasons? Or should you listen to your mind who told you to fight for what you knew would be a comfortable, healthy future, one that didn’t particularly enthral you, but hoped you could aspire to and embrace in time, with the insight that came with getting older? As always, the war between your mind and heart led to a painful impasse where both of them were bloodied and injured, but no discernible winners were left to claim victory on the choice, or on all the questions that plagued you.

You recognised Jake’s steps and his scent as he approached you, and you sighed. You were not in the mood for a lecture. Sure enough, he sat next to you, looking at the waterfall falling violently into the otherwise peaceful river, that rippled and bruised at the contact. It was funny to you now, sitting here, how that was a perfect metaphor for your relationship with Neteyam, how in his presence, you were just a river, and he was a force of nature, there to disturb and perturb, there to change you, so aggressive and formidable, and so strangely necessary. You were sad at how much his presence in your life mattered, how you knew that despite all the hurt and the pain, you owed him so much of who you were, so much of where you were. Because he pushed you every day, to be better, to strive for more, to want to be more like him in some ways, less like him in others - a better daughter, a better friend, a better sibling, a better soldier, a better warrior, a better clan member.

“Hey, kid. What are you doing here, eclipse will be upon us soon. You know the rules.”

“I know the rules, Jake. And with all due respect, right now, I really couldn’t care less about them.”

You turned to him and noted his expression melting from one of annoyance, raised eyebrow and an open mouth, ready to chastise you for your insubordination and recalcitrance, into a soft and pitying one, as he took in your tear-stained face and trembling lips. You never cried, not in front of anyone who mattered, so the fact that here you stood, so obviously distressed, concerned Jake more than he could say out loud.

“What’s wrong, baby girl? What happened?”

“I… I need to find O'ì'en… I’ve been looking for hours, but I can’t find him. Have you seen him anywhere?” Your sniffles and a hoarse, broken voice were more than enough to bring a grimace to the Olo’eyktan’s face.

“Oh, honey…” his arms circled your much smaller body and he squeezed, the much needed hug warm and very welcome. Your hand tightened around his forearm, and you started sobbing silently as he held you. You’ve always been immensely grateful for the Sullys and their patriarch, but especially so in moments like this, when his paternal instincts kicked in, a role he was much better at than he ever gave himself credit for.

“I ruined it… I ruined everything. I should have told him, I should have been honest with him. I should have come to you and asked you to free me of this responsibility that I never wanted to shoulder in the first place.”

“You can still ask, kid. We would never force you into something you genuinely aren’t comfortable with, and you should know that. In fact, you do know that. But you didn’t come. Why?”

You had no answer to that, because truthfully, you didn’t know. Getting revenge on Neteyam wasn’t a good enough answer, and more and more, you realised that - and you knew Jake would challenge you on it as soon as the words came out of your mouth. Getting revenge isn’t a good enough reason to sacrifice your own happiness, and liberty, your future as a warrior and your future with the man you wanted to want so badly. It wasn’t a good enough reason because it wasn’t the reason - not the only reason, not the full reason, but that was something you couldn't think about, you couldn't even fathom, not yet, so you didn't.

At your lack of response, Jake sighed and looked contemplatively at the river being perturbed by the waterfall crashing on it, at the way the water rippled and undulated, at the way the bioluminescent glow of the underwater plankton, that was visible now that eclipse settled over the land, warped under its force.

“Did I ever tell you I had this girlfriend back on Earth? This was when I was young, about your age.” You shook your head softly, not looking at him, still focused and mesmerised by the same view he was studying.

“She was amazing. So kind, and sweet, and beautiful… and good. Too good for me. And I loved her. She was the first girl I looked at and thought that maybe, just maybe, she would be the one. I used to pick her up after her classes were over and we would just drive in my car, just down the coast, in Anaheim at sundown, and I remember feeling so happy, thinking that I would feel this way the rest of my life.”

You thought about that, and about your boyfriend, who very much seemed like what Jake was describing, who brought you comfort and safety. You thought about walking with him in this place Jake called Anaheim, in a heavenly place away from hurt and pain, away from mistakes and fears, just two people who loved each other, who wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. You felt grief envelop you when the face that appeared in your visions wasn’t the one you wanted to see, the one you hoped you’d see, the one you needed to see. You hated your brain and your heart for not allowing you to commit to him the way you knew you should, in the way that would ensure you a future of happiness and peace, a love worth harbouring, a pure and kind love, just like the one Jake described.

“What happened? Between… you and her, I mean?” Jake shrugged, a small, content smile on his face.

“It just didn’t work out. I joined the military, she continued her studies. We would have never worked. I wasn’t good enough for her, and she deserved someone who could love her the way she was meant be loved. Anaheim is still a beautiful memory to me, and I’ll always cherish it, but it made way for something much, much better. For both of us.

I think sometimes we hold on to things we think we need, we want to want, but these things pertain to a version of ourselves that isn’t fully authentic. I think it’s easy to pretend when we’re with certain people that life is one way, that we could fit in it, in this world we’ve created in our heads, in the world that they inspire, but the sooner we accept the realities of our circumstances, of who we are and where we truly belong, the more time we have to enjoy life for how it’s meant to be lived: fully, wildly, being wholly ourselves.”

He stood up and headed back towards the village, not before giving you an affectionate pat on the head and a squeeze of your shoulders. His last words echoed in your ears long after he departed, leaving you with so much to think about, and so much pain at knowing he was right, and that soon, you’d have to break a heart and learn to mend your own.

“You can still ask, kid. I just think, deep down, Anaheim isn’t for you… just like it wasn’t for me.”

But I'd give anything to stop time And drive around Anaheim at sun down And teach my mind to put you first

It took the whole night, but you eventually found him, after a painful conversation with his mother, at a different river he used to love coming to as a little kid with his father, one much further away from the village. He was sitting on the river bank, lost in thought, his feet dangling mindlessly in the water that rushed downstream, agitated and tumultuous, much like your mind. You sighed deeply, trying your hardest to build up the courage for the most difficult conversation you’ve ever had, one in which you knew the end result was a broken heart, one that you caused, that you never meant to, that you would never want. You knew what it was like to be broken-hearted, sad and unmoored from the reality you’ve built up in your mind, from your hopes and dreams, from the future you were promised and now will never have again. But after the conversation with Jake, you knew it was the right thing to do. You loved O'ì'en, you truly did, just not enough to ever give him everything he needed and deserved, not for the rest of your life. You had darkness in you he would never be skilled enough to wander through, to bring light into, and you would never want him to try, not when it would dim his own light, that deserved to be nourished and heightened by someone, who much like him, was good and pure, and better than you’d ever be.

“O'ì'en…”

He wasn’t startled by your presence. His gaze didn’t shift from where it was intently fixed, and you knew you shouldn’t expect that it did. You wouldn’t want to look at yourself, either.

“You know, I watched for so long the interactions between you and Neteyam, and they always made me sad and uncomfortable. The hatred that I could not understand, that seemed to occupy so much of your time and space in both your minds, that consumed you both. I watched it, and I wanted to say something, but I never thought it was my place. It hurt me, seeing you suffer at his hands, and hurt me that you always reciprocated, that you never took the high road, that you always felt the need to one-up him, to give as good as you got. It was so toxic and unhealthy, and I hoped in time, you’d move away from it. I hoped I could help you. But now, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to, not anymore. And I don’t know if I want to.”

Tears rolled down your face with every word uttered, with every sentence that cut deeper and deeper in you, until you were bleeding and bruised, until it all hurt, being here, seeing him, hearing him, the past and the future, the present and your actions, and Neteyam’s actions, and everything that lead to this moment. It was so much easier to get your heart broken, you realise faintly, than to break a heart. Heartbroken, you could pity yourself, victimise yourself, tell yourself and the world that it’s not you, but the other person, the one who instigated it. You can sleep at night knowing you were wronged, that if it wasn’t for the pain that someone else caused you, things would be different, easier. There was nothing easy about watching a good person suffer and knowing you caused it, and you wondered how you were ever going to fall asleep again, how were you going to be able to live with yourself.

“I didn’t choose this, O'ì'en… any of this. I need you to know this. Mo’at asked us to come to her as a matter of urgency the other day, she told us that Eywa gave her a sign, showed her a vision, and that by her will, Neteyam and I will have to become a mated-pair.” You felt bad about leaving out certain… extenuating circumstances, but you realise that sometimes, certain things are better left unsaid and once some words are uttered, some actions taken, they can’t be recalled, they can’t be reversed, they won’t dematerialise - their echoes will forever ring through time, leaving damage and hurt in their wake, and you didn’t want that - not for him.

“Have you told her you don’t want to? Have you gone to the Tsa’hik, or the Olo’eyktan, or the Tsakarem and talked to them, told them you are in love with someone else, that you made up your mind? Did you fight for us at any point? For me?”

Your eyes widened at his words, that had an edge to them you’ve never observed in him before, that you didn’t even realise he was truly capable of. The words stung needles on your skin and in your eyes, that had prickling tears still falling uninterrupted, like summer rain, soaking your heart and soul that hurt because you knew that you couldn’t give him an answer that would satisfy him… you couldn’t give him an answer at all.

“They look at you like you’re their daughter. They would listen to you if you asked. But you didn’t, did you?”

“I once overheard Lo’ak talk about you and Neteyam to his human friend. He was concerned about you. About both of you. But aside from that, he talked about you two like you were an inevitability. About passion that ran so deep there was no way only hatred fuelled it. That there must be something underneath it all. I heard this and it made me angry at the time… I thought that he was unreasonable and out of line. Naively, I took your affection at face value and never looked beyond. Until now, that is. When I realised that in our time together, all the time we shared, all the moments that were sweet and innocent and everything I’ve ever wanted, you’ve never once shared even a fraction of that passion for me.”

“O'ì'en, no…”

“I think, deep down, you don’t want to get out of this because it’s finally a way to bridge the gap that has existed between you and Neteyam for so long, a gap you secretly wished had never existed. I think you’ve been in love with him since you were children, and this was the perfect opportunity to change a path you thought was set in stone before. I think he’s in love with you, too. But both of you are too mean, too stubborn with each other to see past your differences. To talk.”

“You’re wrong.” The temper was rising in your chest as his head continued shaking, denying your statement, as his words were processing in your mind, the unbelievable, insane, unreasonable words that you couldn’t believe were being uttered right before you, not by him. You wanted to scream at him, to shout and tell him that it’s all wrong, all of this, everything is all wrong. That the passion he’s talking about is just intense dislike that was so grand, so overpowering, it couldn’t be contained inside your body, nor inside his. That you were not in love with Neteyam - you hated Neteyam. With every fibre of your being, you loathed the man that hurt you so deeply, so intimately, for so long, that forsook the past you shared and the memories you made and what you meant to him, or what he meant to you.

You wanted to tell him that he’s delusional in ever thinking that man could ever be in love with you, when all he did was find new ways to torture you, to belittle you, to make you feel lesser than him, lesser than anyone he knew. How could that ever be love? How could that ever work? This was love. What you had with O'ì'en. Pure and good and kind and easy. Love wasn’t supposed to hurt, right? Love was supposed to feel natural, like coming home after a long, exhausting day, it wasn’t supposed to be what made the day long and exhausting in the first place. He was so wrong.

But you didn’t find it in you to argue with him. Not with him. Someone else will have to bear the consequences of your repressed anger, but not O'ì'en, because he deserves better than what he got, and what you gave, and in truth.. none of this mattered anyway. Arguing would make no difference in this doomed relationship, so you calmed yourself for the time being and spoke in as even of a tone you could manage.

“O'ì'en… I think you’re wrong. But, it doesn’t matter. You’re right that I didn’t talk to Mo’at, and that I should have. Regardless of the circumstances that led to this, I am so sorry. I will forever be sorry for the way you found out, for the way this came to be. I’m so sorry you had to be collateral damage in a war that is only mine to bear. I had a whole plan about how to tell you, I had so many things I wanted to say to you. That I’m grateful to you, and that I love you. That I’m sorry it wasn’t the way that you deserve to be loved, but I do love you. That I will never forget you, and your affection that shone so brightly over me, that was a safe haven from the bad storms I’ve had to weather for so long. That I’ll be sorry every day that I wasn’t good enough for you, but am relieved by the notion that one day, you’ll find someone so much better than me, someone who will be able to give you everything you deserve and then some, and I’m relieved in knowing you will be thankful to have been rid of me.”

You decided this would have to be enough for now. One day, maybe you’ll be able to face him again. One day, maybe he’ll even be able to spare you a glance, or a smile. But not today.

“I hope you forgive me one day.”

“Me, too.”

But I'd give anything to stop time, commit to you and not crimes Against your truth and lose sight of every divide threatening to undo this story But baby, I'm so sorry, I don't think that I'll ever memorise this route

It was a long way back to the village, and with every step taken and every moment passed, the anger that you tried to stifle for his sake came back ten fold - the tiring days of fighting, of crying, of suffering, of uncertainty and rampant emotions all building up within you, all coming to a calamitous zenith that threatened to spill all around you, that begged and urged for revenge, for payback on the man that caused it all, the man that was at the centre of all your life’s woes.

He ruined your relationship? Well… let’s see how he’ll like a taste of his own medicine. You knew exactly where you’ll find him, because you knew he’d be in the place he knew he could pester you the most, in a place that’s supposed to be yours, that he tainted over and over, that you will make sure to conquer back from him, the way you eventually would all of the pieces of yourselves he’s taken from you through time.

Your tent was quiet and untouched, unlike the little nook behind it, that was completely segregated from the rest of the clan, an oasis of secrecy and privacy in an otherwise bustling environment. A place that should be yours alone, but now hid two Na’vi, one of them mewling softly at the actions of the other. Neteyam was focused on his mate’s neck, their make-out session so intense, they didn’t even notice you until it was too late, until you stood behind them, until your presence was announced by a deep sigh and a disappointed click of your tongue.

“Oh, how disappointing.”

The girl let out a distressed yelp at your voice and pushed Neteyam off of her, eliciting a deep growl from the man that was less than impressed by the interruption.

“Am I interrupting?”

You saw Neteyam’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of you, at the way he knew what was coming. You laughed at his expression. What did he think was going to happen after what he’s done? What did he think you were going to do finding them here? The evil smirk that possessed you reminded you of his, and you wondered if this is how panicked you looked, too, when you saw him approaching you and O'ì'en.

“You know, if you’re going to continue going against the Olo’eyktan and the Tsa’hik’s wishes and cheat on your mate, I wouldn’t do it… you know, right outside of her tent.”

“WHAT?!” The high-pitched screech nearly deafened you, but you didn’t let it show. Instead you just watched as Neteyam scrambled to get himself out of the eye of the storm threatening to tear him apart.

“Tìlor, I -“

“Ah, your boyfriend didn’t tell you?” Your smile was sickeningly sweet as you approached the couple, stopping right next to Neteyam, placing a hand on his arm, tracing the protruding veins that made saliva pool in your mouth, and you bit back a laugh at the girl’s rabid look, that looked a lot like she was going to pounce on you at any given moment - you hoped she did. Nothing would make you happier than to have an excuse to rearrange her braids. This girl that always looked down on you, that looked at you like you were an outsider or a freak, that never even tried to mask her jealousy, her disdain, her fear at the fact the Sullys preferred you, and always will.

“I will be your Tsa’hik soon. Isn’t that right… yawne?”

“So unless you want me to go and tell the clan leaders… and your mother… and your father, and everyone who matters that you’ve been fucking someone else’s mate and watch as little by little, your entire world falls apart around you, I suggest you realise this man right here, he’s not worth it. Not worth all the drama, not worth all the fuss. Just go, and find yourself a single mate, and give thanks to Eywa she’s rid you of him, cause damn, I know I wish I could be.”

The hatred in her eyes was slowly replaced with fear and embarrassment, and for a second, just a second - you felt bad for her. Because no matter how badly she’s treated you, how she’s adopted Neteyam’s behaviour as her own with no reason or rhyme, much like O'ì'en, she was also just another collateral victim in a war that kept claiming lives and hearts, and you wondered where, if at all, the line would be drawn, when, if ever, would enough be enough?

You watched as she scrambled to fasten her top around her neck properly and without another word, she was gone, leaving just you and Neteyam alone, with enough tension in the air around you to suffocate you, to feel like smoke from a fire so grand, you didn't know if weren’t skilled enough to put out.

'Cause I have yet to know how to be mine You can try to unearth this soul I swear you'll hate what you find

“Why?”

“You’re making out with someone behind my tent, knowing that would piss me off, after what you did yesterday, and you have the nerve to ask me why?” you threw your head back and laughed at the outrageousness of the question. Neteyam wasn’t stupid - far from it. He was also not naive, or oblivious, or harebrained. The question had no business coming out of his mouth, but yet it did. You didn't have time to ponder the reasons why.

“You see, Neteyam, I think you came here because you knew I’d come. Because you secretly wanted me to. Because you know deep down that this girl has nothing to offer you, and you just needed an easy way out to rid yourself of her, and you needed me to do your dirty work for you again. Well, you’re welcome, Neteyam. What the fuck would you ever do without me, huh?”

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite. All the theatricals of being heartbroken over what I did to O'ì'en and then you do the exact same thing to someone else, someone innocent.”

“Innocent, ha! You think I give a shit about your little girlfriend’s feelings, when you treated O'ì'en the way you did? He didn’t deserve this, Neteyam. Any of this. He’s good man, he respects you, and looks up to you. He -“

“He should have known better than to associate himself with you.” His bared fangs didn’t do as much to scare you, not nearly as much as his proximity to you did, at the way his eyes stared daggers at your face, that even in the heat of the moment, at the peak of anger and hatred, couldn’t help settle on your parted, wet lips. “He should have known better and realise that all you bring in people’s life is disappointment and pain. He also should have known better and realise you didn’t love him. That you never will. That you might try to act like it and convince yourself, but someone like him would never, ever satisfy you.”

“And who the fuck would satisfy me, Neteyam? You? That’s rich. I bet your poor little girlfriend’s happy she’s rid of you. Bet you haven’t made her cum once. Too busy thinking of training and ruining my life, too busy thinking about how great you think you are to make room for anyone else in there.” You poked him in the chest with your index finger, right over his heart. Your touch lingered on his body, somehow unable to bring yourself to stop, half in awe at the way his heart was racing, at the way yours beat almost in sync with his, at the way you tried to convince yourself it’s because of the anger you were feeling, and no other reason.

“Yeah? Is that what you think?”

And there he was again, once more grabbing you by your throat, and you wanted to object, and fight him, but you didn’t - you couldn’t -, not as you felt throbbing deep within you at the action, not as you had to push your thighs together to accommodate for the increasingly uncomfortable sensation, not as your loincloth was becoming more and more damp by the second. And you remember your words, and remember that you told him that if he ever touched you again, you’ll make him pay for it, but right now, in this moment, you couldn’t find it in you to speak a word, as the intensity of his gaze knocked the air out of your lungs and his fingers squeezed just enough so no more could get back in you. Your back scratched painfully against a tree as he pushed you into it, and you couldn’t help a small moan as his other hand pushed your loincloth to the side, brushing over your folds that were now sopping and swollen. He let out a soft chuckle as he felt you.

“If that’s what you really thought, you wouldn’t be dripping on my fingers right now, tsxepvi.”

Slowly, deliberately, he started exploring your heat, thumb ghosting over your clit as he watched you squirm under his touch, struggling between what you knew you should do, between your conscious mind telling you you were going to pay for this in tears and heartache, and your subconscious mind screaming to let go, to embrace the overbearing desire to give in to him, as you did in the dreams you convinced yourself in time were nightmares, but knew more and more each day that it was just another lie you told yourself to keep going.

One side of you won by a landslide, as he gently pushed two fingers in you, as he started increasing the pressure with which he was massaging your clit, and it felt so good, too good, better than anything you’ve ever felt before. You tried to contain the sounds coming through gritted teeth with all your might, knowing what he was doing, knowing giving him any indication of the pleasure he was giving you would mean another thing you’d have to pay for later, knowing you couldn’t allow him to enjoy this, you couldn’t possibly give him the satisfaction of knowing he could do this to you, but you couldn’t stop, not when his fingers curled in you and found the spongy part that made you see glimmering, blinding lights and his thumb circled your needy bud in the perfect way to heighten the sensations running through you, electrifying your every nerve. The moans turn into mewls as he increases the pressure and his pace, and you felt the pleasure in you reach a high that you were ready to ride out, your orgasm so close you could practically taste it, and you’re barely able to think about how fucking quick it was, how it took no time at all for him to get you there, how skilled his fingers, as they worked his ministrations on you. You had no will to think about what the fuck was happening, how weird it was, how the man you’ve hated for so long is doing this to you, before the feeling got too overwhelming to be contained anymore.

“Fuck, i’m gonna -“

“That’s right, tsxepvi. I can feel you squeezing my fingers. You want to come for me?”

“Argh, I-“

The moan you let you wasn’t of pleasure, it was of deep, throbbing pain as the emptiness overtook you, as soon as he removed his fingers.

He smirked, an evil smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as his fingers found his lips and he sucked on them, his tongue swirling in between them, licking every single drop.

“You taste fucking amazing, tsxepvi. Maybe next time, if you apologise and behave, you’ll actually get to cum.”

And with that, he was gone, living you an empty, horrified mess, as the high came crashing down violently and the consequences of the last few minutes replaced it to lead you in a spiral of mixed thoughts and feelings, each one more terrifying than the last.

'Cause I am lost, but not in you Yes, I am lost, but not in you

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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 7 months

Text

Complicated

Eddie's Version. Part two 💕💕

Will be breaking this up into two parts, purely because I love the drama and wanna make Eddie suffer a lil bit ;)

Warnings: Angst, Eddie is painfully slow at realising his feelings. Wayne makes an appearance. Jealousy.

Don't copy, reuse or repost my work.

❤️

Eddie felt like an idiot. He couldnt believe the stupid shit he said to you. Him and Chrissy had gotten into another fight because he's been so fucking pissed off.

Pissed off at himself for what he said to you.

He doesn't understand what's wrong with him? Ever since he saw you with Steve, picturing you sleeping with him it's like there's some fucking monster inside of him.

"What does it matter to you who she sleeps with Eddie?" Chrissy had asked him after he had told her about your fight.

There was no answer he could come up with, Dustin told him point blank that he was a total douchebag.

"Dude, you do realise that you sound jealous right?" the little butthead told him like it was so obvious.

There was no way he was jealous. He was with Chrissy. He proclaimed that he wasn't and Dustin just rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Eddie, Steve told me what happened. It's like you've deemed him a threat because he's been with yn and you hate it"

Once again Eddie had no reply for that and decided to throw himself into apologising to you.

The next day he's at your door, nervous and kicking himself for being a douchebag. What if you didn't forgive him? You had evert right to tell him to fuck off.

Eddie hated the thought of you not being in his life, he adored you and needed to show you how much you meant to him.

You were beautiful to him, he hated that he made you feel so low, what the hell was he thinking? (He wasn't that was the point)

You open the door and look like you want to slam it in his face.

"I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry. I was a dickhead and I understand if you don't want to talk to me but I just had to tell you that"

The anger subsides from your features and you soften just a fraction.

"What you said really hurt" he swallows and you let him inside.

"I don't have any excuse princess. Just that I'm so very sorry, you're beautiful, the sweetest person I've ever met and I hate myself for hurting you"

He's barely slept and he's so tired but he had to see you.

"Just no more stupid shit Eddie please. I'm confused enough about this stuff with Steve as it is" he ignores the twinge in his chest at this.

"Do you like him?" he asks quietly and you sigh.

"He's my friend Eddie, hes a great guy. There's this spark between us but it's just physical because he still loves Nancy and I love... You freeze and trail off.

"You're in love with someone?" It's like his stomach bottoms out as he hears this and he fights to keep his tone casual.

"It doesn't matter. He doesn't feel the same way" You blurt out and frowns.

"Well then he's an idiot" he tells you gently and you look away flustered, the tension in the room ratcheting up.

"I'm making pizza. Wanna join me?" you ask and he jumps at the offer. Anything to get away from these thoughts racing through his mind.

❤️

You wish you hadn't come to this stupid party, Eddie was still acting a little weird and you had no idea what was going on in his head. Things were better than they were but still nowhere near what you two were usually like.

Yeah he had apologised profusely for what he said but what the hell was his deal with Steve in the first place? You were not here for it and wouldn't hesitate in calling him out.

Speaking of Steve you wish he was here. At least you would have someone to talk to, Chrissy had Eddie attached to her and you could barely get near him.

When you did see him for a few seconds here and there conversation was stilted.

To your delight Steve and Robin do show up to the party and that helps you relax.

"Who the fuck thought having a party in the woods was a good idea? After all the shit thats happened here?" Steve asks unamused.

You grin agreeing with him and hand out beers for him and Robin.

The sparks between you two were still there but he was right, he was still hung up on Nancy and you were hung up on Eddie.

If it happened again then it was strictly physical and nothing more.

Eddie meets your gaze and downs his drink, his eyes trailing over to Steve then you, he grabs another beer and stalks off and you groan.

What was his problem now? You attempt to follow him and get about half way there when you see Chrissy already by his side and tucked under his arm.

It feels like you've been sucker punched in the gut and you turn away. Unfortunately, Jason Carver is right beside you.

Fuck, you should have went home when you had the chance. He's drunk as hell and way too close to you for comfort.

"God it makes me sick watching Chrissy with that freak" He's unsteady on his feet and you cringe as you smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Don't call him that" you snap at him in no mood for his pity party and him being a shit about Eddie.

"Don't know why you aren't more upset though. Aren't you like in love with Munson or something?" this stops you in your tracks and you stare at Jason. How does he know that?

"I don't... I'm not" Jason cuts off your response and snorts.

"Babe come on? It's obvious. He's hardly going to look your way when he has Chrissy is he?" the way he says this so casually and cruel, it hurts like a bitch.

"Gee thanks" he misses your sarcastic tone and moves closer to you. He's so close you can barely move away. What the fuck?

"Hey, maybe we should hook up. That would show them" You gape at him and move away.

"No fucking way" your reaction causes you to sneer at him and he snorts at you.

"Whatever, doesn't stop the fact that you're never going to be Munson's type and you know it"

Jason walks away but the words linger in your mind, you hurry away having enough of this party.

Steve is at your side straight away, he notices your tears and nods over to Robin.

"What's wrong?" you shake your head and wipe the tears away.

"Nothing, just Jason being a dick" Robin joins you and Steve.

"Yeah, I'm thinking a movie night sounds good about now don't you?" she suggests and you nod in relief.

"Sounds perfect"

Before you leave Eddie jogs up to you looking concerned.

"What's wrong? You're leaving already?" he stiffens as he notices your tears and gently wipes them away. The gesture is sweet and it makes your skin tingle.

"Fine, I'm fine. Just Jason being his usual self. Gonna call it a night" he looks disappointed but nods.

"Kay, I'll come see you tomorrow?" you nod and walk, away, chancing a look back at Eddie who watching you go.

💕

Eddie finds himself driving to your house after the party, he doesn't know if your parents are home so he decided to do his usual routine of greeting you at your bedroom window.

It takes a minute for him to climb up onto the roof. He's about to knock when he hears you giggle and moan.

"Steve"

His blood runs cold and he scrambles away from your window. He nearly falls on his ass as he gets down and ends up kicking over your trashcan.

"Shit" he swears and makes attempts to make a hasty exit but you must have heard him because a minute later your at the door.

"Eddie?" you stand at the doorway in a hastily thrown on robe and his stomach sinks at the sight.

💕

"Are you okay? After earlier?" you ask him concerned and motion him to come in.

He does, his eyes linger on Steve's jacket and his jaw tightens.

"Steve's here" he comments and you can't figure out his tone.

"Yeah, we're friends. What is your problem with him right now? You've been getting on great the last few months"

He stubbornly looks away.

"Friends who've sleep together" he murmurs and you grow impatient.

"Why are you so fixated on that? Do you want the details? How many times he's made me fucking come? How good it feels" you snap.

It's like he comes undone at that point. His expression darkens, his eyes almost black and your body reacts to the sight, it's hot and you're pissed at yourself for thinking this because you're furious with Eddie.

"You know what? Fuck you Eddie. Come back and see me when you have a better attitude" you walk away from him and he gently grabs your arm.

"What?!'' he gazes at your for a second, his eyes trail down to your lips and you freeze.

The air is heavy with tension and he licks his lips, eyes flicking back to your gaze.

He comes to and backs away then he's out the door leaving you in shock. You make your way back upstairs and find Steve at the top of the stairs shaking his head.

"I don't know what his deal is" You reply helplessly and Steve softens.

"He does. He just wont admit it sweetheart. Come on, let's watch a film yeah? Not really in the mood anymore" You agree and follow Steve downstairs.

💕

Eddie slams the door to his bedroom shut, his heart is racing and all he can think is what you said about Steve.

Images of you with him race through his mind and he the pain in his heart triples at the thought of you and Steve together.

Steve making you come over and over again, those moans, you writhing under Steve and saying his name. He can't stand the thought of you with Steve.

He lets out a yell of annoyance and slumps on the bed. What the hell was wrong with him. He hated this.

Uncle Wayne comes into his room and sighs, looking to the door then Eddie.

"Thought you were out tonight boy? You have another fight with Chrissy?" he nods his head and Wayne sits beside him.

"You ever wonder if she's really the girl for you?" he stares at his uncle. Really thinks on the question and struggles to answer.

He hadn't been happy for a while now.

"I don't know anymore. Things have been tense for a long time and then there's yn"

Wayne knows something is going on with you and Eddie right now but he isn't privy to all the details. Naturally he's curious because the two of you are very close.

"What's happening with you two. You not hanging out tonight" Eddie slumps back on the bed and shakes his head.

"She's with Steve" he scowls and Wayne raises his eyebrow.

"Harrington? Those two are together now?" Eddie nods tightly.

"More casual. Of course she would want someone like Steve. He's rich and goodlooking, all the chicks dig him. I get it but I still think of her with him and I don't like it, I've said stupid shit" he swears.

Wayne smiles and realises what's up with his nephew.

"Give yourself a break son. We all do stupid shit when we're in love" he pats Eddie's arm and Eddie jolts up staring after his uncle.

Wayne thought he was in love with you but that was totally fucking impossible right?

Fuck.

💕

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagine

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wolfchanslover69 · 5 months

Text

My brother’s best friend

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In which the reader has to stay with her brother and his best friend for a while due to renovations at her home.

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Pairing: Bang Chan x reader | fluff, angst and happy ending

A/N: Heyy guys, I hope you enjoy reading this oneshot! If I made any mistakes do tell me because I won't realise it :D.

Warning: Mentions of middle fingers, rude people (I guess that's all)

Word count: 4,2k

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The renovations have started at my house, which means I can't live there for the next two weeks. That's why I'm currently standing behind my brother's door with two big bags full of my stuff, waiting for his slow ass to open the door for me. I could hear talking—or more like yelling—coming from behind the door. After two seconds, the door slammed open with my slightly annoyed brother, who was trying not to show happiness in seeing me.

"Get inside, loser," he told me while making a tsk sound. I just showed him my tongue and middle finger while starting to drag my bags with me.

"Why do you need so much stuff for two weeks?" he asked me, watching with his cat-like eyes squinted at me. "I'm a woman… I have clothes, my stuff for university and work, and so on... and you know, health stuff." He was about to say something, but his mouth formed an 'o,' letting out a soft "oh" as an answer.

The moment I had gotten everything inside and closed the door, my brother's handsome roommate and best friend appeared behind a hallway. He looked cute in his oversized black hoodie, shorts, and beanie. "Oh, hi y/n, I didn't know you already came here," he smiled at me with a bright smile that could easily have brightened the whole world. "Oh yeah, I just came," I rubbed my arm while pointing at the door. He just giggled at me before saying, "I noticed."

Minho stared at me and rolled his eyes. He was painfully aware of my crush on his friend and pretended to be annoyed with it. In reality, he was rather glad I was crushing on his friend and not on some stupid boy who would end up breaking my heart. But still, even though I was secretly in love with his painfully beautiful and god-like best friend, he would never allow me to date him. I'm not sure what that's really about, but I find it annoying. Not that I would ever have the courage to reveal to his friend about my secret feelings.

"Is the renovation starting then?" Chan asked me as he came to stand next to me. "Oh! Let me take that!" he told me before I could answer, seeing me moving my bags.

"You don't nee— I— oh— okay, sure, and uh, yeah, they started today in the morning. I had to go through the plan with them before I got to leave," I answered, trying to stop him from helping me at the same time. He didn't need to help me when I was the one coming to break his privacy by staying at his house for two weeks.

"No, no, don't worry. Hey Minho, why don't you help too! And that sounds great, the sooner it's done, the sooner your home is ready again, right?" Minho scowled at Chan before coming to help me with the bag. "Haha yes, but luckily two weeks isn't that long."

"Mmm, true. Well, I hope you enjoy staying here. I'll talk to you later; now, I have to continue with my work again. I have to get this track done by this Sunday," he told me while scratching the back of his head and giving me an apologetic smile. Minho just stood next to me silently, like he had never been in the room before, pushing me slightly after Chan had left.

"Don't flirt with him around me; it's gross," he complained.

"I hardly believe that; nothing can be as gross as you are." Minho gave me a stare before telling me he wouldn't help me anymore. This led us to bickering like little children, and ended up with him helping me bring my bags to the living room next to the sofa.

—------------------------------------------------

That night, neither Minho nor I had the energy to start cooking dinner or even step out of the house. This led us to order takeout. It also led us to have a movie night like we used to when we were younger. It would usually start with us bickering over which movie to watch and end with Minho giving up and letting me choose the movie. He had always played tough with me but ended up giving in and being soft. He was soft even now when we were fighting over how we would sit on the sofa. I wanted to lay on my side with my legs straight, but so did Minho.

"Would you lay like that on the sofa if your 'Channie' was here?" he sneered at me, squinting his catlike eyes.

"Yes, I would, and he's not 'mine,' so stop bullying me or I'll put you in the damn air fryer," I threatened him.

"I want to see you try when we both know I can put you in there faster than you can put me."

I didn't even bother to answer him and just showed him my middle finger. As a peace offering, I sat on the sofa instead of laying down, and to my surprise, he sat as well. I knew our next fight was going to be about what movie we were going to watch next, and I wasn't waiting for it. I wanted to watch old nostalgic Disney movies while he wanted to watch the newer ones. While we were bickering, we didn't hear Chan entering the room before he was right behind us.

"Oh hey, can we watch Deadpool?" Before Minho could open his mouth, I had already agreed with him.

"Sweet! Oh, is that the food you ordered? I can get it!" he said as the sound of knocking could be heard from the front door.

"You only agreed because it's Chan, traitor. You know I have seen it at least a thousand times…" I just looked at him with a blank face while saying 'oops.'

Chan came happily back with a goofy smile plastered over his face and our food. He set the food on the table in the living room and started opening the packages with funny jazz hands. I chuckled at the happy sight in front of me and smiled softly to him. I heard a loud groan from next to me, and I dropped the smile and gave Minho yet another middle finger.

When all of us had food in front of us, we finally started the movie. We ended up sitting in a way where Chan was between me and Minho. To say I was feeling nervous would be an understatement. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and hands shaking like leaves. During the movie, all I could concentrate on was me and Chan's legs brushing each other whenever one of us moved. Whenever I felt the touch, all I wanted to do was to jump closer to him, but that would be weird. Therefore, I tried to be as far away from him as I could to keep myself from acting out of normal. That didn't work, though, as it seemed that he was getting closer and closer. The last straw for me was when I felt Chan's hands touch mine as we were reaching into the cup of snacks at the same time. I tried to act normal, but I knew both Minho and Chan could hear the shakiness in my voice as I told him he could take from it first. I couldn't think after that, and missed the whole ending of the movie.

After the movie, I still felt like I was in heaven from the smallest touches. Yes, I know it's pathetic, but I couldn't help it. Minho went to get a blanket and a pillow for me as I tried to convince Chan that I could sleep on the couch, and it wasn't a problem for me as they had already helped me so much.

"Come on, Chan, I can sleep here; two weeks are not going to be that bad, you know," I tried to take the duvet cover from him.

"No, really, y/n. I have slept here on this exact sofa, and I know how much it will hurt the next morning when you wake up," he tried to reason with me.

"Yes, why it is important that you don't sleep here so you'll be able to finish your work, remember?" He just didn't seem to give up.

"But I don't sleep anyway, so there will be no harm done if you sleep in my bed." At this point, I couldn't do anything other than use my secret weapon.

"But Chaaaan," I told him while giving the best puppy eyes I could. He sighed and rubbed his face as I could feel his other hand letting go of the duvet covers.

"Fine, but if your shoulders hurt tomorrow, you are going to sleep the rest of the stay in my bed, okay," I stared at him, smiling before answering, "Fine." I won't tell him if my shoulders hurt; he doesn't need to give his bed to me.

—------------------------------------------------

The next morning, I did wake up with stiff shoulders, which were the cause of my never-ending headache. The whole day went with me being distracted during lectures because of the pain and the aftermath of dreaming about Chan. The entire day I was in another brain land, making me extra clumsy and forgetful. I even mixed up my schedule and went to the wrong places at the wrong time. When I did it for the second time, I decided it was probably smartest to skip the rest of the day.

So now, I was trying to figure out how to relieve my stiff shoulders while sitting on the exact sofa that was the whole cause of the situation. I searched through the whole net, only to find either not possible or expensive ways. With a sigh, I put my laptop away, giving up on trying to ease my pain. What I didn't notice was the front door opening and a person coming in. It wasn't until I heard Chan's voice that I realized.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked worriedly. I let out a scream as I heard him. I hadn't noticed him coming behind me or even entering the house. "Holy shit, you scared the living crap out of me!" I exclaimed while putting a hand over my heart to try to calm down the pounding. "Ahaha, sorry," he told me while sheepishly scratching the back of his head.

"What are you doing here so early?" I asked him curiously. I thought I would be here for a few more hours alone before Minho or Chan would be back.

"Well, I could ask the same from you, but we finished with Jisung and Changbin faster than I thought at the studio, so I came to finish things at home," he explained to me. I let out a silent 'aah' as an answer to him.

"Um, well, I couldn't concentrate at the campus, so I came here to do my essay, but I can't concentrate," I tried to reason. He eyed me for a while in silence while pouting his lips.

"Your shoulders hurt and are stiff, causing you a headache, right?" I stared at him in the eyes in silence. Shaking my head slowly, I tried to deny his assumption, even though it was right. He tilted his head to the side and gave me a pointed look.

"So now, if I tried to massage your shoulders, they would be soft and not rock hard, hmm?" I nodded my head. If he knew my shoulders were rock hard, he would start lecturing me and insist on me taking his bed.

Before I knew it, I felt a pair of hands on my shoulders testing if they were as 'soft' as I had claimed. I let out a whimper in pain as he squeezed my shoulders. They were indeed stiff, and it felt like somebody was putting little needles into my shoulders.

"Gosh, didn't I tell you this would happen if you sleep on the couch?" I didn't need to turn my head to know he was shaking his head.

"You should relax your shoulders; this isn't going to work if your whole body is as stiff as a tree," he complained. I tried to hide my creeping blush of getting caught being nervous. He didn't need to know that 'he' was the reason why I couldn't sleep in his bed or relax while he was trying to ease the pain.

He continued his lecture while massaging my shoulders. I still didn't give up with the couch, and it ended up with Chan calling Minho to tell him that I was going to be sleeping next to him. Now, I don't have much against sleeping next to my brother, but I still would prefer to have my own space. Their call went even as far as Chan threatening Minho if he wouldn't let me sleep next to him.

—------------------------------------------------

The next evening, I was in charge of making dinner for everyone. Minho was laying on the couch while complaining about his day to me as I prepared food for everyone. I had decided to make the most simple food that I could come up with, which was pasta. I was stirring the sauce when Minho let out a more dramatic sigh than usual. "I really wish I had an air fryer that would fit a person in it; I would have needed it today."

"Was your day really that bad, or are you just being dramatic?" I genuinely asked. He didn't answer for a while and kept silent.

"They came up with a new gossip about me; apparently, I have beaten up someone who looked at me in the wrong way." So his day was really a bad one.

"It's sad how adults keep coming up with stupid rumors, and I know they hurt you, but at least you'll be more successful than them because while they gossip, you are living your life fully with good friends who support you," I tried to brighten his mood.

"Mmh, I'm not really sad. It's just funny how they come up with such pathetic ideas when all I do is study and practice with my dance team," he shrugged, sounding calmer than before.

After that, Minho changed the topic and started talking about his cats, who were visiting our parents at the moment. He gave me a deep analysis of how he missed them and wished they were with him at the moment. While he was still analyzing his cats, Chan came to the kitchen and walked past me to get water. I accidentally dropped my spoon that I had just used to taste-test the pasta sauce as Chan had walked past me to the fridge. He had touched my waist like it was the most normal thing to do, making me jump in surprise. His hand was still lingering on me as he turned to pick up the spoon which I had dropped.

"You okay? Here," he asked while giving the spoon back to me.

"Oh yeah, the spoon just slipped; I have a bit oily hands," I told him while gesturing to the olive oil bottle next to my pot.

"Ahh, that explains," he sipped his water while moving away from me to sit at the dinner table while starting to talk with Minho.

I was left alone in the kitchen with a pounding heart and yet again shaking hands. I felt like I could explode with all the adrenaline running through me. I had to lean on the counter while trying to steady my breathing. I was in disbelief. If the rest of my stay was going to be like this or even worse, I don't think I'll get out of this alive. On top of everything, I have a strong feeling that Chan knows very well what he is doing to me at the moment…

—------------------------------------------------

The next few days, I didn’t see Chan at all. He most likely had spent the days and nights at his studio with his friends, editing or recording stuff, who knows. I used these 'Chan-free' days as days to get my own work done without stressing out if I would see him or not. I didn’t need additional distractions at the moment; I just needed to get past this module, and then everything would slow down a bit.

Finally, it was the end of the week, and I had gone out for dinner with my friends. This was the first time in a while that all of us had a free spot in our calendars to meet up. The restaurant had just opened on the other side of the city and was small and cozy. We were sitting in a small booth with all of us squeezed around the table. All of us were giving updates on our lives to each other while also reminiscing about our high school years.

“Soo y/n, do you have a boyfriend yet?” my friend Julia asked. She gave me a thin smile while tilting her head to the side, as if evaluating if my answer would make me a better person or not.

“Well, not yet. I have been concentrating on my studies lately…” I told her truthfully.

“Oh, so that means you are still too scared to tell Channie?” she asked, or more like stated. I could hear my other friends chuckling next to me.

As I was about to answer her, my other friend, Norah, answered. “It’s not like you actually had a chance with him; you do know that, right?” I stared at them quietly. What were they saying? They had never talked to me like that and had always supported me.

“What do you mean by that?” I wondered while scowling at them.

“Well… you know, why would he want to be with you like you are his best friend’s sister…” I stared at them, not saying anything. What were they on about? They had never been like this; it sounds like they are…

“Are you jealous? Or do you feel like I’m threatening you?” I genuinely asked them. I looked at my ‘best’ friends, wondering what was going on. Was I in a nightmare, or were they really like this before too?

“Of course not, why would I be jealous of you?” Norah answered while giving me a dirty look.

She and my other friends had never been like this before, or had they? I looked at all of them in the eyes and realized maybe they had been like this all along, I just hadn’t realized it. They had never actually been supportive; no, they just were waiting for me to lose all of my hope so they could get to my brother and his friends through me. I laughed in disbelief as I started packing my stuff to leave.

“You guys are unbelievable, hah, are you even hearing yourselves? All this for what, a few men that would never go for people like you and why? Because they have standards, unlike me, who spent most of her life with people who didn’t actually care about me.” At this point, I wasn’t even sure if I was talking to them or myself. I felt so betrayed that it made me feel like a ton of stones was placed on my chest to stop me from breathing. I stood up and grabbed my coat, and as I was leaving, I told them one last thing.

“Oh, and never call him Channie; that’s my nickname for him, not yours.” After that, I left. I wasn’t going to talk to them ever again; they had lost the privilege for that. I didn’t need shitty people like that in my life.

As I exited the restaurant, I started walking back to my brother’s and his friends' place. At some point, it had started pouring rain like the sky was crying with my soul for the lost friendships. With shaky hands, I tried to unlock my phone to call Minho to get me out of the rain, but my phone didn’t want to work as it got wetter and wetter with each passing second in the rain. The whole night was a disaster, making me want to start crying, but I wouldn’t let myself. I put my phone away and kept walking in the dark evening toward home. I was starting to shake due to the cold rain and wet clothes. Why didn’t I just order a taxi? It would have been a safer and dryer way to get home than walking in the dark rain. What if this was my last time seeing th-

“Y/N!” I looked up to where the voice was coming from. And there he was, standing right in front of me in the pouring rain. He looked worried and was clutching his phone in his hand. His wet hair was clinging to his forehead due to the rain, making him look like a lost puppy, even though he was an adult man.

“Chan…” I whispered his name.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone? I was worried, and so was Minho, he call- hey, why are you crying?” In the middle of his speech, I could feel my lower lip starting to wobble as my hands started to shake more. I couldn’t keep it inside me anymore. The crying just wouldn’t stop; it felt like it was taking over everything. I took shaky steps toward Chan with my hands out to him. He didn’t waste a second and hugged me as I cried into his shoulder. The night was shitty, and I had never imagined it would end like this. I could feel his chin on top of my head as he tried to calm me down. I just hugged him even tighter as my sobs got louder.

“Hey, it’s okay, cry everything out, okay?” I kept crying while nodding my head. Who would have thought my day would end up like this, crying in my brother’s best friend’s arms because a few mean people had betrayed me and told me I could never be with the person I wanted to be with…

“Promise me you’ll never leave me,” I leaned away from him while still sobbing to look into his eyes. He looked at me with a worried look hidden in his eyes.

“Hey, where is this coming from, love?” He asked worriedly while petting my hair.

“Promise,” I almost started crying harder as I tightened my hold on his hoodie.

He put his hands to my cheeks and made me look into his eyes, “I’m never going to leave you, okay. Not now and not ever.” I nodded my head while starting to calm down. It took me a few moments and a few deep breaths to finally be able to calm down fully. Chan kept petting my head and hugging me while I did so. When I was finally able to calm down, I spilled everything, from the way my friends had treated me to the root cause of the whole thing.

“I thought they were my friends and I guess at some point they were, but I don’t know what I did wrong. They were so mean, and I just don’t know. And please don’t hate me and promise that you’ll never leave Minho after I tell you everything.” He squeezed me harder as he promised never to leave Minho.

“You know, I have liked you ever since I first saw you when I was five. The day when you came to visit Minho after a school day, I remember that you were so shy yet so social, and I just couldn’t say anything to you and ran to my room to hide. But at some point, you and Minho came into my room and forced me to play with you, and I just thought you were so cool, and I just, I don’t know, I just decided you were my person that day. And I have all my life tried to hide the fact that I actually have feelings for you, and I told my ‘friends,’ and they supposedly supported me, but in reality, they were just waiting for my downfall…” I closed my eyes and waited for his reaction. I knew I had taken a huge risk when telling him all of this, hoping he wouldn’t hate me after everything.

“I know…” He told me quietly and hugged me more tightly. “You know, that day you weren’t the only one to catch feelings and try to hide them for most of their life…” I looked him in the eyes while sniffling. Was this really happening to me, was I in a dream, or was this real.

“Really…?” I asked quietly.

“Really,” He gave me a small smile while securing his grip on me. Maybe everything would be fine, maybe the future isn’t as gray as I thought it would be, and maybe just maybe I could face it with Chan… or Channie as I have wanted to call him most of my life aloud.

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abouttofillhisshoes · 17 days

Text

I want you now - M.H x Reader // pt.6

A/N: This might be triggering to those who are/ have struggled with addiction. If you are one of these people, be careful. It's never worth it, and addiction is ugly. Some resources will be linked here. Please take care of yourselves!! This chapter is NSFW, minors do not interact. The love of my writer life @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff ily. This is dedicated to all of my fellow addicts, current or in recovery, it gets better, promise. Enjoy my loves ❤️

wc: 4k

part 7

“....what?” he sounds surprised, eyes looking up at you, brows furrowed.

“Go on, you heard perfectly well.”

He smirks, seeing right through you. The composure was all a façade, the pink blush on your cheeks giving you away.

His hand reaches down, lingering over his stomach. He winks at you knowingly.

Delicate fingertips ghost over the head of his cock, and he squeezes himself, letting out a high pitched moan as he did. He was giving you what you wanted. A show.

He continued his movements, stroking himself slowly, never once breaking eye contact. His breathing speeds up, his noises get louder. You can tell he’s getting close. Sitting down on the glass coffee table, you watch him intently.

“That feel good?” you ask, your voice shaking in pure desperation

“Mhhm– felt much better when it was your hand instead of mine,” he answers, slowing down.

He stops completely, sitting up. “Let me make you feel good,” his voice is low, seductive almost. “I promise I'm good,” he bites his lip at you. Good god, he was going to kill you.

He moves down, flipping over on his stomach, patting the space now infront of him. Your eyes widen at his insinuation, your lower belly doing all sorts on somersaults under your skin. The room feels much hotter now.

“Are you–?” “Yes, I am. Let me make you feel good, please,” Your breath hitches at his words, and you can feel yourself melt. Scrambling up, almost knocking over a glass, you sit down in front of him. You're wearing jeans, the material bunching up towards the bottom as you shuffle around on the leather.

The look he gives you is delicious, his eyes raking up and down your frame. You were still wearing clothes, but Matty was quick to take care of that. His hands moved to your belt, undoing it with fervour, slowly pulling them down your thighs. Discarding them in a corner, he turns to your underwear, a simple black number. A bow adorned the front, he moaned at the sight.

“Is this okay?” He asked, his fingers toying with the waistband of your panties. You could hear the desperation in his voice. You nod.

He presses a chaste kiss to your knee, his hands holding your legs spread. The anticipation is almost too much as he trails his kisses further up, nibbling at the skin of your thigh. Deep, purple marks littered the inside of them. A reminder.

He mouths at the material of your panties before slipping them down. He stuffs them into the pocket of his jeans, smirking at your reaction. Licking a thick stripe down your centre, you can't help but gasp at the sensation, losing a hand in his hair.

He speeds up, tongue toying with your clit. Losing yourself in the pleasure, you look down, a messy head of curls directly in your view. This was really happening.

His movements seem irregular, his tongue darting over your clit in patterns. You focus a bit, your eyes widening at the realisation. He was spelling something. His name.

You let out a pathetic moan, feeling him grin against your core.

M-A-T-T-Y.

Another moan, but this time, it didn't come from you. Matty was painfully hard beneath you, gripping your thighs for leverage. You watch him as he grinds into the sofa, groaning at the friction. He was getting off on this.

Both of your noises filled the air, and you grip his curls tighter, grinding down onto his face. He lets you use him for your pleasure, never once pulling back. You could feel the elastic band in your core tightening, getting ready to snap at any second.

“G-god Matty– fuck,” you try to warn him, clenching around nothing. He nods, not daring to pull away. His tongue never lets up, instead speeding up against you, bringing you to the edge. One particularly quick spell of his name pushed you over it.

Your legs shake in his grip, and you were sure there were going to be Matty shaped bruises on your thighs later. You moaned, the thought only intensifying your orgasm. You hear a whimper escape his lips, the vibrations of his mouth overstimulating you.

He doesnt stop until you push him off, whining at the loss of contact. He looks up at you from between your legs, his eyes glossy and chin covered in your slick. Before you could stop yourself, you reach over to your bag that was sitting on the floor next to the sofa.

Matty looks at you confused, raising his eyebrows. God, he looked beautiful like this, a thin layer of sweat sticking to his skin. Pulling out your camera, you snap two photos of him, catching him off guard. The flash shutters in his face, the light capturing his eyes perfectly.

He smiles at the camera for the second photo. He looked fucked out, raw.

“Good?” he asks, a sly grin replacing the innocent smile on his face.

“10 out of 10, would recommend to a friend” you answer cheekily, smiling down at him

“Now get up here so I can return the favour–” you try to scoot down, but he stops you. An embarrassed look spread across his face.

“You don't have to– I already, uhm…” he trails off, gesturing to the damp spot on the front of his jeans. Your eyes widen, snapping up to meet him. His face was flushed a deep shade of red, and he avoided your gaze. He had come in his pants, just from eating you out.

The realisation dawned on you, and you pulled him up on top to lay on you, pressing light kisses all over his face. He squirms under your touch, his expression still slightly ashamed.

“Is that weird? I'm sorry for–” you cut him off, planting a hot kiss directly onto his lips.

“Don't apologise, that was..” you kiss him again, moaning into his mouth. “insanely hot.”

A look of relief washed over his face, and he finally kisses you back. The two of you lay like that, in each other's arms, basking in the afterglow.

One question plagues your mind. The same question he had asked you.

“What are we?”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

As you were nearing the end of the school year, attendance had become more of a suggestion rather than a must. Skipping numerous lessons, you had been spending your days wandering around the city, smoking, talking, listening to music.

Today was different. Matty himself had suggested that you go to your lessons. This took you by surprise. Matty? Going to school? Willingly? You scoff at first, thinking he was joking.

“Nah, seriously, we haven't been in a while. It’d be nice to see what Mr. Henderson has been up to.” you simply shrug, turning around to walk in the direction of the bus stop. The air was thick and humid, and you were sweating under the blazing sun. The bus had come slightly late, forcing you to sit down on the sticky, and quite hot, metal bench.

You and Matty shared a cig, passing it back and forth while staring off into the distance. The inside of the bus was even hotter, the heat starting to get to you. You were clad in a thin white tank top paired with a pair of Mattys basketball shorts.

“We really have to start wearing our own clothes.” you remark, gesturing at Matty, who was wearing one of your shirts over his iconic black skinny jeans. He shakes his head, offering a snide remark.

“We both know I wear your clothes much better than you do, darling,” His smirk was wiped off his face the moment you smacked him upside the head. You sigh contentedly, turning to face the glass of the window. The sun was blinding, reflecting off of every available surface right into your eyes.

The bus came to a screeching halt, and the two of you staggered off of it, Matty almost tripping over the gap between the exit and the floor. You laugh at him, being met with an annoyed glare. The inside of the school was much cooler, the school having invested a bit of money into an air conditioning system. It was more for the staff rather than the students, but you were thankful nonetheless.

Mr. Henderson had glared at the both of you when you walked in, saying something about you finally deciding to show up. You were in your graduating year, and most of your other grades had turned out fine, so you rolled your eyes, looking for a table to sit at.

You're met with George, who was sitting at your usual table. He smiled at you, motioning for you to come sit. Matty is hesitant at first, but reluctantly agrees to sit down. You haven't spoken to George, Adam, or Ross since that day, ignoring Hann’s incessant phone calls to come and talk.

“Hey guys, you well?” George asks, a smile plastered onto his face. Matty offers a murmur, while you answer him, saying you're both doing alright. You were aware Matty was acting like a grade A dickhead, but he did have a good reason.

There's about 20 minutes left in the lesson when George decides to speak again. His voice makes you sad, the pain in it evident. He missed you, and you missed him too.

“I know you're pissed off, but you have to answer Hann’s calls. He’s worried sick and won't stop pestering me about it.”

“He’s not our mother, neither are you. Tell him to go fuck himself, will you?” Matty says, not looking at him, instead eyeing a poster hung at the back of the room. You give him an apologetic look, telling him you’ll think about it. It was a shit move, ambushing the two of you like that. You still didn’t agree with them at all, but in the end, they were still your best mates.

The bell rings, and Matty jumps up, booking it to the door. You shoot George another look before following Matty out the classroom.

“I'm knackered, can we go back to my place?” you nod, hooking your arm in with his, letting yourself be led down the hallway. A teacher stops you, asking where you're going.

“We’re fucking off and going home, thanks for caring!” Matty yells before strolling past her. You giggle at his boldness. Matty was always like that towards figures of authority, mentally spitting in their face with every word that left his mouth.

You had gotten an invite to a house party later that day, showing it to Matty. He agreed, wanting to go as well. You knew Ruby would be there as well. The two of you had become close friends, even exchanging numbers at some point. She was sweet, always greeting you with a hug and a kiss. Her red hair had inspired you to put some peek-a-boos in yours, showing her with an air of pride.

You didn't know whose party it was, only that it was hosted by a girl from your form. The house was in a nicer neighbourhood, mostly inhabited by bankers or lawyers.

The two of you got ready for the party together, correlating your outfits. You’d been told the theme was ‘late 80s’.

Music was blaring in the background, some of Mattys' pretentious ambient stuff. You had hung up fairy lights in his room, which was now technically your room as well. You’d been spending so much time at his place, your stuff littered the floor and drawers.

He was begging you to do his makeup for him, stating he was too shit to do it properly. You reluctantly agree, dabbing light blue eyeshadow onto a brush, lightly applying it to the lids of his eyes. The theme was the 80s, after all.

You had chosen a green dress, thin layers falling over each other. It was slightly shorter in the front, and longer in the back. No sleeves, the plunge was deep enough that you had decided to skip the bra, knowing it would show. Your hair was teased and curled, styled into a classic eighties updo. Your makeup matched with Mattys once again, although the blue around your eyes lacked the intense amount of glitter Matty had put on his.

His outfit was a purple two-piece suit, which you were pretty sure was a halloween costume originally. The sequins stood out against his pale skin, seeing as he decided to forgo a shirt underneath it all. Classic Matty.

His nipple piercing was on display, the sight of it making memories of that night flash through your mind. The way he had hissed at the pain at first before the sound morphed into a high pitched moan. The other nipple was yet to be pierced. You felt like you owned him in a way, the jewellery symbolising that. You're snapped out of your trance when Matty pulls out his red cigarette case.

The two of you do a line before the party, deciding it would be enough to get you through the night. Locking the door behind you, you walked to the bus stop not far away, arriving far too early. He offers you a cigarette, which you gladly accept. You were smoking a lot more these days, your habit becoming rather expensive.

You breathe out the smoke into the warm summer night air. His arms wraps around you, squeezing your waist. You lean into him, breathing in the scent of his cologne. It was musky, inherently masculine. Crickets chirped in the background, the sound oddly comforting. The bus had come late, its doors opening with an ear piercing shriek.

The seats are fairly empty, given it was late at night. He leads you to the back, laying you onto his chest across the seats. The bus rumbles softly underneath you. You feel at peace

The music was loud, with you being able to hear almost a whole street away. The house was filled with people from surrounding schools, with kids hanging out on the terrace and in the garden, drinking out of various different glasses and mugs.

Inside was even worse, the place crawling with people. The music was shit, some generic club and pop beats. You didn't care, you were here to dance the night away with Matty, to forget the stupid fight with the boys.

The drink table was littered with dozens of bottles of liquor, most of them empty. You had gotten there quite late, it almost being 11pm. Matty strolled over to the cabinet, taking out two mugs from the middle shelf.

He pours you a mystery concoction consisting of rum, tequila and a random mixer he had found on the ground next to the kitchen counter. It tasted awful, but it did the trick. You wince when you take the first sip, seeing matty do the same.

“Fuckin hell this tastes like someone wrung out a pair of knickers, jesus Matty,” he just shrugs, downing the rest of his drink, disappearing into the crowd. You follow him, you hand finding his in the chaos.

Spotting a group of people you knew, Matty dragged you to them. Matty immediately takes over the conversation, talking about the time a bartender refused to serve him because he looked quote un-quote “too gay”. Laughter roars from the group, and you can tell he’s basking in the attention. Glancing around the room, you try to find Ruby. You hadn't seen her in a while, not having heard anything from her either.

You hear Matty announce his needing a bathroom break, not-so-politely excusing himself from the group. After he leaves, one of the guys offers to make you another drink, noting your cup was empty. You accept. The table had been cleared off by now, being replaced with more alcohol.

He starts pouring liquids from various bottles into your mug, making friendly conversation. You couldn't for the life of you remember his name, so you just nodded along to his unfunny jokes. God, where was matty when you needed him

This one tasted much better, a delicious blend of nice vodka and cranberry juice. You thank him, flashing him a smile. Both of you make your return to the group, but you don't see Matty. So you ask directions to the bathroom. You're informed that there are, in fact, three (3) bathrooms throughout the house. You groan, making your way to the one nearest to you.

Opening it, you see a couple passionately making love against the sink. Profusely apologizing, you slam the door shut as quickly as possible, turning around to head to the stairs. You can feel a feeling of unease settling itself into the pit of your stomach. Matty was never gone for this long, most of the time you couldn't peel him from your side if you tried.

You walk up to the bathroom next to the stairs, shoving past a sea of drunk people casually sitting on the stairs, nursing their drinks. Cursing under your breath, you nearly trip over an abandoned beer bottle on the last step.

The chipped paint of the wooden door seems to blur as the world starts to move in slow motion. Your hand touches the door handle, pushing it open. You feel your heart drop as you lay your eyes on Matty.

He’d half-hazardly propped himself up against the wall, yet still slouching. The blinding light of the bathroom makes it hard to see. You focus on the colour of the carpet, an ugly brown, before your eyes snap back up to Matty. It's only then you see the needle sticking out of his arm.

The room starts to spin around you, your lungs not able to take in a deep breath. A needle. His jacket was discarded on the floor next to him, the purple sequins shimmering under the cold light. He mumbles something, his eyes finding yours.

You scramble to get to him, slamming the door shut behind you. No one else is allowed to see him like this. Carefully, you pull the needle out of his elbow, gently placing it on the ground next to you. You're terrified, so you shake him. He’s conscious, you gather.

You can't see properly, the world blurring around you. He says something unintelligible, too strung out to even speak properly.

“Fuck, what did you do?” your voice shakes as you pat him down instinctively, making sure he doesn't have anymore dope on him. He comes up clean, and you sigh in relief.

“You gotta try this shit…it's… mad” his voice is small, barely audible.

“Heroin? Matty– fuck you can’t pull shit like this..” the site of the injection is bleeding, the blood trailing down his arm. You reach for a towel hanging on a rack, pressing it to his arm.

His head lolls from one side to the other before he properly looks up at you.

“Man... I'm so fucking high- I think I might love you, honest.” he slurs, his other hand coming up to stroke your face. He smiles. Jesus. Your heart flips at the statement.

“Stop talking.. just stop” you can feel tears well up in your eyes. This is too much, everything is too much.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The morning light shines through the curtains, illuminating. You haven't slept all night. The walk home had been a hard one, Matty wasn't light. You had carried him home, flung over your shoulder, stopping to let him throw up multiple times.

He just walked into his room, closing the door. Like nothing happened. It was 2 in the morning when you finally sat down, letting it all out. Near-silent sobs echoed through the massive living room, bouncing off the walls. You haven't cried like this since that night three years ago. The night you met him.

Having chain smoked a pack and a half of cigarettes, now it was your time to throw up in the sink. Wiping your mouth clean, you took a drink from the tap.

It was about 8 am when Matty finally walked out of his room, sitting down onto the sofa. The silence between the two of you is loud, like a ringing in your ears.

“You can't do that ever again Matty, you hear?” Your voice is strong, clear. You had been rehearsing what you were going to say to him all night, thinking up an entire monologue, quoting every drug prevention flyer you had ever laid eyes on. But that was all that came out. That was enough.

“I know,” he answers quietly, his eyes meeting yours.

You sit like that, for hours, holding each other like the world was crashing around you. It sure did feel like it was.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

// July 2008, two weeks later //

The two of you were once again walking down a dangerously busy highway, flipping off every car that dared to honk at you. The hot sun was beating down onto your skin, and you could feel yourself start to burn.

He’s holding your hand. Not hooking his arm into yours like he usually did, but properly holding your hand. You gush inwardly at the feeling of his palm against yours, your fingers intertwining with each other.

You decide to stop at an ice cream truck, a rarity around these parts of the city. The truck is white, the side being plastered with a wide variety of different ice cream choices. The two of you stand there for a good five minutes, deciding on what to buy.

“There’s so many choices, innit? Who even takes the time to dream up this amount flavours!” His voice is loud, angelic laughter filling your ears. You respond with a hum and a squeeze of his hand.

He's covered in this giant black David Bowie shirt, it almost reaching his knees. It's endearing, seeing him being swallowed up by it. He eventually settles on a bubblegum flavoured popsicle, pointing at the picture like an excited child. You choose a generic two scoop vanilla ice cream cone, smiling at the vendor as he hands it to you.

You take your wallet out of your bag to pay, but his hand swats yours away.

“I have to regain some sort of status now, can't have you spoilin me too much.” he says with a wink, pulling out a wad of cash from his pocket, handing it to the vendor. The truck is elevated off the ground, so he has to lift himself onto his toes.

He stretches his arm out to give the man the money, causing his sleeve the ride up his arm. That's when you notice it. Track marks. Fresh ones.

“What the fuck Matty.” you grab his arm, causing him to drop both of your ice creams onto the ground. He winces at your touch, retching his arm out of your grasp. He’s too weak, and you pull him closer to get a better look. They were definitely fresh, recent.

A pang of betrayal spreads its way through your body. He had promised you. He had sworn to you he would never touch it again. He lied to you.

“I can explain-” he starts, sucking in a deep breath. “Ruby was just ther-” “Ruby gave it to you? Our Ruby? Jesus, i didn't think she was also-” you cut yourself off, feeling tears roll down your cheek. God, could it get any worse?

You take a step back, giving Matty a once over. The look in your eyes was one of pure hatred, and he recognised it. He had lied to your face. He never lied, you never lied to each other, ever.

“Im so sorry- I just..” he trails off, hiding his arms behind his back. He was ashamed, you could tell. He felt small under your eye, shrinking even smaller. “You don't understand, you can't possibly-”

“Don't speak to me, Matthew.” you see his expression change. Sadness. Hurt. How could he look at you like that when he was the one who betrayed you? He broke your trust, not the other way around. You were properly crying now, hot tears staining your face. His eyes looked at you, begging, pleading with you.

You turn around, leaving him standing. Leaving him.

The lighter is heavy in your hands, you can feel the rhinestones under your fingertips, taunting you. It was the lighter he had gifted you, his initials scrawled on the side.

Lighting a cigarette, you don't look back.

#the 1975 #matty healy #ross macdonald #adam hann #george daniel #matty healy fanfiction #matty the 1975 #matty healy smut #matty healy fluff #matty healy angst #tw:drugs #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you

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iwillsearchtheuniverse4u · 1 year

Text

Study Session

Warnings: Smut! Pure filth actually Oral! (on female anatomy) Sex! in a public bathroom BDSM! (kinda, not really)

Summary: Mingi is a philosophy major and he gives the reader free study sessions. Except they are not free.

It was one of those painfully slow Wednesday mornings and I was passing through the park in front of our department's building. The ground was frozen with little crystals forming on the cement but there was no snow in sight. The cold weather had always made me feel just a little bit more annoyed with the exam season slowly approaching and there was no way to stop it. Since there was noone around I let a tiny curse word escape my mouth as I noticed my fingers going numb tightly holding the strap of my tote bag. My phone vibrated in my hand reminding me to hurry to the study session I had been dreading for weeks.

He was a university senior of mine. I had known him since my freshman year which had been exactly a year and a half ago. He was the kind of handsome everyone would whisper about in secret but noone would dare approach. His tall wide frame emitted a presence similar to that of an old oak tree and the fact he was majoring in philosophy kind of coincided with that. He would always speak in a low raspy voice making you listen even more intently to his carefully structured sentences. Many people from my literature department respected him dearly as he was praised even by our professor for Philosophy of Literature, one of the most difficult classes which I had failed the previous year.

Song Mingi himself was now standing right in front of me with his hands inside the pockets of his long black coat. His black eyes were piercing directly through me as I stopped in front of the entrance to the main university library. "I'm right on time, I thought I was going to be late," I said to break the silence. I nervously fiddled with my tote bag looking around to catch a glimpse of anything else than his beautiful face. The library was almost empty since all the students had left to celebrate Christmas with their families and I was not raised Christian. I guess he was not either.

"We'll start with Derrida's deconstruction. You mentioned it was the most difficult to understand," he stated in his low tone already turning away from me to pull open the door. His coat skimmed my calves before he motioned me to enter first. We sat at the desk furthest away from the entrance facing eachother. I had had no idea just how difficult this was going to be for me as a girl who had never even properly talked to a man like him before. But he was the first my department seniors would direct me to for help with this god-forsaken subject and I had no other options if I ever wanted to graduate. It was not like I had never spoken to him before but we had never been together like this, just the two of us and it made me strangely fidgety. I tried so hard to play it cool but my shaky fingers gave it away when I was taking the notes out of my bag. I noticed his elegant long fingers playing with his silver rings as he was looking around the empty library. His blue highlights made his raven black hair appear even more dreamy. Observing him up close made me realise just how handsome he was.

After an hour and a half of him explaining all of the details about the main exam material and my endless stream of questions I let my forehead softly land on the wooden desk in exhaustion. “Mingi, I feel like I’ll never get this. It all seems so similar and I have no idea how to explain it by myself.” I looked up with teary eyes at the brink of giving up and saw his smile with a hint of what it seemed to be rosy cheeks. I was lost for words as I had never seen him blush before and I could not find a reason for it. “Don’t worry, you will do just fine…” he said as he clearly had trouble maintaining eye contact with me. I finally realised what the problem had been all this time. As I was hunching over the desk in self-pity I was also exposing my chest because my white sweater had a pretty deep v-line. As soon as I noticed where his eyes were wandering I sat up straight and tried to clear my throat. I couldn’t help myself but to notice his tiny lip bite as he looked back at the notes so it kept my mind occupied for the next thirty minutes of his explanation.

“Wait, no! That’s not the point I was trying to make here,” he said, annoyed, and walked around the desk to sit next to me. “Jakobson analysed language as a system of relationships. If we talk about the poetic function of language the message focuses only on its own words that have been used,” he tried to explain pointing at the underlined words in my notes. He sat so close to me I could feel his breath on my arm and I couldn’t keep my head clear anymore. It was like the idea of him touching me had consumed me completely. I felt my cheeks burning and I was sure he had noticed too but I was too afraid to even look at him. “If I say something like ‘your skin must taste as sweet as honey’ what function does this message carry?” he asked with a slightly deeper tone. I looked at him and his eyes were darker as before, he definitely wasn’t looking at the notes anymore. His eyes wandered around my body again. “Ehm…poetic?” He didn’t break eye contact at all as his hand started to move toward mine on the desk. His pinky traced my arm all the way up to my shoulder and then he moved his hand to my thigh. He suddenly grabbed it tightly making me audibly gasp. I was so shocked I couldn’t move my body at all, his eyes kept mine locked in a very intense staring contest. “That’s a good girl,” he whispered as his long fingers started moving upward along the innermost part of my thigh. When he reached my clothed core I couldn’t stop a moan from escaping my lips and my eyes from closing. I suddenly had a sudden burst of reason hit me and my hand instantly stopped his from moving any further. “Mingi, there are definitely librarians around and the cameras are everywhere…ahh!” My loose grip on his fingers wasn’t enough to stop him so he rubbed my jeans exactly where it mattered. I squeezed my thighs together in pleasure and gripped my chair to hold myself up. When I finally caught his eyes he was grinning at me with fire in his eyes. He moved his face closer to my neck and whispered: “don’t worry, I wouldn’t let anyone see you like this, all worked up. You look too stunning.” He stood up, buttoned up his coat and led me to the bathroom.

He opened up a stall in the men’s bathroom and lightly pushed me inside. After closing the door behind him he pushed me against it and pursued what he had been doing before in the reading room: sliding his fingers up and down along my clothed wetness. I couldn’t stand up straight so my body automatically slid down along the door but he held me up by my waist. For a moment he stopped his teasing and moved his face closer to mine. “I really do want to know if you taste like honey. Everywhere,” he whispered before kissing my lips with a certain amount of gentleness. I gripped the door behind me as the sloppiness of his kiss elevated and all I could focus on was his body grinding against mine in waves of pleasure. I could feel all of him, every inch of his warm body against mine, his growing erection right against my lower belly. The fire from our mouths spread all over. As his lips moved down along my jawline to my neck all I could say was: “then taste me.” It seemed to have made him more eager and dangerous. The bruises on my neck weren’t going to be easy to hide the next day but that wasn’t a problem for me to solve at that moment. The only thing I wanted was for Mingi to touch me where my growing pains were. I pushed his shoulders down, trying to get him to go down on me as soon as possible. I undressed my sweater and he took his sweet time sucking on my breasts. My moans were hard to control so I put my hand over my mouth to at least try to silence them while he reached my bellybutton and unbuttoned my jeans. It all happened so quickly but the next thing I felt was his tongue in between my folds producing so much pleasure I could barely hold myself back from pushing his face closer. I grabbed his raven black hair in pleasure with one hand while the other was still desperately holding on to my mouth to keep the moans from disturbing the whole library. He sucked on my clit right to the breaking point and then suddenly stopped which left me aching for more.

“I’m gonna make you work just a little bit harder for this,” he said as he looked up at me. He looked ten times hotter sitting on his knees in front of me, licking his fingers before inserting them inside me. Both of my hands instinctively reached for my mouth to silence myself but the moans kept coming out stronger as his lips joined his fingers and synchronised. As I reached my orgasm, I said through my moans: “M-Mingi…aahhh… I need you inside me.” As soon as I got off my high, he stood up and kissed me, making me taste myself on his tongue. I reached for his black leather belt and unbuckled it in a hurry. “Fuck, you’re so hot when you’re needy,” he whispered right into my ears, his warm breath on my neck. I let the belt fall on the floor but he picked it up and tied it around my hands behind my back. After that his hands were all over my ass while his lips were producing art on my neck again. “It’s okay if you’re loud, just make sure to say my name so that everyone knows who’s responsible,” he said and smiled at me.

I heard him unzipping his pants while I was trying the hardest to stay quiet. He took a condom out of his wallet and rolled it on his already dripping dick. He entered me slowly and filled me completely. I could feel every inch of him painfully twitching inside me as he tucked my hair behind my ear and whispered: “tell me how much you want this, use your words, baby girl.” I could barely keep my composure at the sudden wave of pleasure that ran like electricity through my body when I heard his low voice sounding like he was begging me to give him permission to move inside me. “Mingi, I want you to fuck me like this is the last day of our lives.” His cock twitched inside of me and he cursed quietly as he started pounding into me with my name on his breath. At that point I couldn’t even remember my own name, let alone keep myself from moaning Mingi’s name. My tied hands were knocking into the door behind me with every grind of his body against mine. He started moving faster and cursing in between moans so I knew he was getting closer. My second high came and my walls tightened around his cock which made him come too. His head fell back and his whole body shook against me while he rode out his orgasm. I couldn’t stand up properly after he finished so he held me up and kissed me gently to calm me down. He stroked my cheek when I caught my breath and cleaned me up with a tissue. When he unbuckled the belt from around my wrists I could already tell my neck wasn’t going to be the only thing bruised the next day.

“We should do this more often,” he said with one of his eyebrows raised suspiciously as we were leaving the bathroom. “The tutoring, I mean.” His cocky smile made my mind run wild. The library was empty but my flushed cheeks were still making an appearance. “Maybe next time I can do a home visit,” he said as he squeezed my ass.

#mingi #mingi fanfic #ateez #ateez mingi #song mingi #ateez fanfiction #mingi fanfiction #mingi smut #ateez smut #kpop #kpop smut

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riordanness · 7 months

Text

breathe - [r.cameron]

requested: no

warnings: panic attack

wordcount: 0.8K

Rafe Cameron has never been the most likeable guy in the Outer Banks. He’s the son of Ward Cameron, one of the wealthiest guys on the island, as well as the cruellest and most manipulative. If you knew what was best for you, you stayed well away from anyone in the Cameron family.

I personally had never had any real interactions with Rafe or his family, my opinions on him based almost entirely on the words of my friends. The other teens, mostly the Pogues I hung around with, would whisper behind his back about how he was a 'spoiled rich brat' and 'arrogant' – something that only pushed him further away from any kind of meaningful social interaction.

I wouldn’t say I’m the nicest person ever, but I try my best to act friendly towards everyone I can, as you never know what someone is going through behind the scenes. I try to treat everyone with kindness, except for Rafe, who she intensely disliked. I know all too well about his 'bad boy' reputation and that makes me want to steer as far away in the opposite direction as I can.

One day, a few weeks into the first term of my senior year, I’m sitting in history class when I suddenly begin to feel faint and lightheaded. I start struggling to breathe, and my chest pulls tight, painfully even. I hastily stand, not bothering to ask to be excused, and rush from the room.

Mr Sunn calls after me, but doesn't seem too bothered by my disappearance. He definitely has worse things to worry about than a girl leaving his classroom.

I crumple to the floor in the empty hallway, leaning my back against the wall for support. My head drops to my knees, drawn up to my chest, and I cry, my throat constricting, my breathing shallow.

I’m no stranger to panic attacks, growing up in a home that resulted in many an attack, usually late at night, alone under my covers. You’d think I’d be better at dealing with them by now, but I still have no idea how to help myself through them. Waiting it out is my best and only strategy at the moment.

I become vaguely aware of someone sliding down the wall to sit beside me, their hand on my shoulder. I lift my head, vision blurry with hot tears, only to find Rafe Cameron sitting next to me.

“It's okay,” he softly mutters, his deep-set voice oddly soothing in the moment. He runs a hand through my hair, gently trying to direct my gaze to his.

I cry harder, not wanting his presence, but being unable to even communicate with anything but more tears.

“Just try to breathe, y/n. I'm here. I'll help you calm down.”

I’m honestly kind of surprised he knows my name, as I never speak to him and try to generally avoid all contact with the blond boy.

My initial reaction is to push him away, my intense dislike for him still a presence in the room. But as I look into his pretty, concerned blue eyes, I begin to realise that at this moment, Rafe isn't trying to prove a point or show off his wealth. Instead, he is trying to genuinely help me in a moment of need.

With shaky breaths, I continue to focus on him, as if the words coming out of his mouth are an anchor. Rafe continues to talk, describing his family’s boat, and how pretty the waves look in the morning sunrise. I don’t know how he knows me well enough to know that the water is my favourite thing in the world, but each sentence carries a tone of assurance that things will, indeed, get better in time.

It wasn't long until I feel my heart rate slowing down and my breathing grow more consistent. I shakily stand up, still processing the fact that it is Rafe Cameron who was the one to bring her back to reality.

We simply stand there in silence for a minute, the atmosphere filled with a strange awkwardness. I’m not quite sure how to react – I had gone from intensely disliking this boy to having feelings of admiration and gratitude towards him.

“Thank you, Rafe,” I say, my voice a mixture of surprise and appreciation. “You… you didn't have to do that for me, you know.”

At that, he smirks, a faint look of satisfaction in his expression. “I know I didn't,” he says. “It just seemed like the right thing to do.”

I smile hesitantly, my heart suddenly warming up to this boy I thought I’d known all too well. It was at that moment that I realise that maybe even the mean, rich, arrogant Rafe Cameron has a heart after all.

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae <33

#rafe cameron #fanfiction #outer banks #obx #obx fanfic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron fanfiction #fanfic

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blue-jisungs · 2 years

Text

odi in the hoodie

summary. an unfortunate way of your wording leads soobin speechless (and whipped)

a/n. ive been laughing at the title for like five minutes now i'm such a genius !! also this is odi fanpage from now on smh :D

the boys were sitting in the common room, their zoom meeting with one of their managers just finished.

they started chatting again loudly, talking lively about the upcoming matters.

because of that they haven’t heard the happy little squeaks of excitement that you let out when odi climbed on your lap.

you were waiting in soobin’s dorm because after the meeting you were supposed to go out with your boyfriend and the rest of the members.

now, the thing with odi was that he didn’t necessarily… liked you.

that’s why you were more than shocked when he lazily laid on your lap. whilst taking a couple of pictures to memorise this unexpected moment, you had a brilliant idea.

you called your boyfriend but he didn’t respond. and now, in the middle of realising your plan, you realised that it wasn’t… a good one.

"soobin!" you called again, slowly leaving his room.

taehyun, the only one who was the only one facing your way, frowned at the painfully slow pace of your movements.

"hey, soobin?!" you hummed loudly, approaching him.

still nothing, he was too busy chatting with beomgyu.

"yah, choi soobin! don’t you dare ignore me! especially when i’m with your child!" you yelled and then... thought. that was not a good thing to say ut loud.

but that, on the other hand, caused to draw everyone’s attention.

soobin froze, kai gasped loudly, yeonjun choked on his water and taehyun blinked slowly.

"i’m calling bang pd-nim!" beomgyu yelled loudly, reaching his phone. yeonjun threw himself, still coughing, to stop him.

"y/n… what are you talking about? we didn’t even–" soobin mumbled, looking at his members nervously.

taehyun just noticed what’s this fuss all about but beomgyu’s voice made him snort with laughter

"hello, bang pd-nim?! i have a complaint! soobin and y/n have been—!"

yeonjun managed to snatch away the phone and slap his friend’s shoulder.

"no, no it’s nothing. i’m sorry, beomgyu is just over energetic today…" "maybe if you turned around you would see what i mean, idiot" you sighed. soobin did what you said and his mouth fell ajar. you had your hoodie around tied your hips, hood on your front. and in that hood odi was moving his nose rapidly, sniffing around.

"odi?!" kai gasped again, leaning forward to get a better view.

"oh so this is what you meant when you said child…" beomgyu murmured.

"how did you do that though? didn’t odi hate you?" yeonjun asked as you sat down next to soobin, rolling your eyes.

"now, now hate is such a strong word. i guess we just didn’t get along too good. but one second he was crawling around and the other one he was, well… crawling on my lap" you shrugged. odi, sensing soobin’s presence, escaped your hood and travelled onto his lap "then after you didn’t respond while i called you i decided to show you because you would never believe me" "that’s true" yeonjun hummed and patted his thighs "i’m hungry. should we grab something to eat?"

"why did you say that while we’re talking about odi?" soobin looked at his friend and rest of the members laughed.

"don’t listen to him, odi" kai nodded

"i’m hungry too. let’s just go" taehyun agreed and stood up.

soobin looked at odi with mysterious smile and then spoke up.

"you can go. we’ll join you in a second"

you frowned and so did beomgyu.

"should i call bang pd–" he started but yeonjun sighed.

"beomgyu, let them be" hyuka just laughed and soon after they were gone.

"what?" you asked, poking your boyfriend’s dimple that formed because of his wide smile.

"it’s just… nothing" soobin said and stood up carefully, holding odi in a safe grip.

"it’s not nothing, you’re smiling like an idiot" you cooed, following him.

"ugh, it’s just…" soobin sighed, walking towards his dorm to put odi back in his cage. you shook your head, leaning against the doorway "… it’s cute"

"what’s cute?" you asked, clueless.

"aich, y/n you’re going to be a death of mine" he grunted, putting the hedgehog down. soobin stayed like that, not facing you, until he finished speaking "the way you said that odi is your, well, our… child" you grinned and soobin finally turned around, avoiding your gaze. his cheeks dusted with pink blush were too adorable not to squish them right now.

so you did, walking up to him and placing your hands on his cheeks. you placed a soft, sweet kiss on his lips and you could feel him smiling.

"now let’s go before beomgyu will think we’re making a brother for odi" soobin said slyly and grabbed your hand. you chocked on air, taken aback.

"brother?" you managed to spit out and he nodded.

"mhm. soobin junior" your boyfriend laughed and sent you a playful smile but your mind thought that maybe (just maybe) soobin wasn’t joking. he already thought about such things… so did he prefer to have a son rather than a girl?

soobin, like as if he was reading your mind, turned around to look at your puzzled expression.

"or a girl. i don’t really mind" he hummed, tips of his ears turning red.

and this just made you smile because of your hypothesis being confirmed.

[ masterlist <3 ]

taglist: @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @elviransworld ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @lhsng ,, @ethereallino

#txt scenarios #txt x reader #txt imagines #txt soobin #choi soobin #tomorrow x together #txt soft hours #txt fluff #soobin fluff #soobin #odi my beloved

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gingerlurk · 2 months

Text

Lovers' Crest | Chapter 18: The Assassin

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Masterlist

As the eve of battle approaches, strange alliances are formed and you acquire something new.

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, slow burn, non-canon (the Razor Crest never gets destroyed, it also gets upgraded with a cabin), post season 3, canon characters present, ANGST, I'm sorry, yearning, feelings of jealousy, Din speaks!

A/N: A short chapter. The next one is a biggun though. Thanks for reading!

Crawling across this coarse sand is something you could do without, but hell if you would dare refuse the Armourer her various missions and requests.

Shoving one elbow over the other, you scoot up until you can peer over the bluff. You spot them. A helmed figure all in black, belly down and training a hyper powered scope across the encampment’s lines.

A fucking sniper? You don’t pause, but shimmy across the edge and rustle toward the threat. When you come to be directly above them, you contemplate your move. Cock this up and they could get a shot off, and you have no idea what they might be aiming at. The action you decide to go with is risky but you don’t think you can get them away from the rifle by any other means.

So without thinking about it too much more, you grip a chunk of rock for purchase and leap down, landing with feet on either side of their knees. You lock your own to their ribs. Lunging forward and hooking your arms under each armpit, you jerk them bodily sideways, lifting them off the weapon and taking you both into a dusty tumble.

You’re about to get them pinned down when the sniper breaks your knee lock with an athletic flip. You give a cry of alarm as you’re hurled upside down for a second before being dumped on the ground at your opponent’s head, who twists around and goes to reciprocate your attack with an elbow hold. You slip the move and once again try to get your knees in to pin them.

The two of you struggle in the dirt, neither one getting an upper hand.

You jam rigid fingers into a shoulder joint, then try to get the arm secured behind them. They grunt but manage to convert your grip on you and your upper arm is being painfully held in a vice-like lock. Your unbound arm braces to throw this assailant off of you. Fuck this, you think, time for--

‘Fennec! Stand down!’ His command freezes you both mid-grapple. You look over your shoulder and see him standing on the ridge above you. Your heart stutters. ‘She’s not—’ Din calls, hesitates and sighs. He waves toward you, ‘She’s an ally of… of the Armourer.’

The grip on your bicep releases and you drop your hands, trying to scramble to stand with as much dignity as possible. Your opponent hadn’t managed to land any serious blows, but the wind’s been knocked right out of you anyway. You work to not collapse. The first time you’ve heard his voice in months and… She’s an ally… of the Armourer.

‘Sorry about that,’ the person next to you – Fennec – turns to collect her rifle. You take the beat it affords to huff deep breathes and plant your hands on your knees for a second, straightening before she turns back. ‘Didn’t realise there was another body in play. Din Djarin has asked me to scope the perimeter, watch for scouts.’ She stands squarely in front of you, offers a hand. ‘Fennec Shand.’

You take her forearm in a shake, give your name. ‘Same here. I mean, neither did I. And I am, an ally I mean. Am out on business for the Armourer right now actually…’ You’re babbling. You glance back up to the ridge – Din hasn’t made any moves to approach the two of you. ‘Seems like we need to improve our lines of communication,’ you say loudly, watching him.

‘Mm,’ Fennec says. You look back to her. She pulls off her helmet and you take in the dark features and stern expression of the only other human face you’ve seen in weeks. ‘What business?’

‘Uh, also… looking and… s- scouting…’ you say lamely.

She lifts her chin at you, assessing. Then, ‘Well we can divide territory, cover more ground? Does that sound good?’

You nod, gaining some composure. ‘Sounds good. I’m most familiar with the chordal coast and the eastern plane.’

‘Good,’ she says. ‘I’ll take the rest. Watch your back.’ She pivots 180 and strides off.

Standing alone again, you look back to the ridge. Din is gone.

They gather around the table dancing with data and shifting troop positions. The air is stuffy and the room dim, a crack in the rock above letting in a single shard of white light in which specks of dust swim back and forth.

You take a deep breath, willing your nerves and doubts to the side before explaining how the gigantic imperial walker is going to help your side’s battle efforts.

‘It’s too powerful and too valuable to just destroy outright,’ you’re saying, taking in the deeply engaged helms of almost everyone in the place. The only one not looking at you head on is the only one you want to see. Din’s head is twisted to the side, as is his body. Your understanding was that Ari Wren had summoned everyone here specifically, key personnel in the approaching fight.

So he’s here. In the same space as you for the first time in weeks and denying you any attention as you describe how you’ll risk your life to defend his clan.

‘I’ll need a partner,’ you say, trying so hard not to look at him. ‘Someone who can get me up there and be able to manoeuvre around the undercarriage.’

You’re floored to see several hands raised. Numerous Mandalorians stepping up to work with you.

Not Din though, whose shoulders hunch and put a deep wall between you.

‘I will take you,’ Wren says with finality. ‘You will stick close by me in the battle and we will action your plan when it is here-’ she indicates a point on the map.

‘Oh-okay,’ you murmur. ‘It’s a plan.’

It’s all nods and affirmative gestures around the table. You move on to point out some spots where you’ll prepare mines to lay down on the perimeter, get assigned a few individuals to accompany you. Eventually you peter out and go quiet.

‘Anything else?’ Wren asks. You shake your head. ‘Good. Report to the armoury for equipment assignment. If you need training, let me know.’

Dismissed, you start to move out of the room.

‘Din Djarin,’ Wren says behind you, just as you’re moving out of earshot. ‘Will you take everyone else through the troop formations you and I have been discussing?’

Some sharp pang spurs your footsteps on and you hear nothing more. Nope, don’t think about it, you urge yourself as you stalk toward the assigned location. Do. Not. Think. About. It.

You think about it the whole way. It’s only when you emerge into the armoury, which bristles with stacks on stacks of a dazzling array of tools to kill, that your mind finally goes blank. You freeze in your tracks and wonder what the fuck to do.

Then you spot her.

Fennec Shand is standing by a rack of increasingly elaborate looking long rifles, holding one to an eye and observing the trigger action. She seems totally engrossed and like she hasn’t noticed you bumble in. But then she speaks up.

‘I’ve been waiting for you,’ she calls across the space, in a voice so assured your feet start moving before your thoughts do. She puts down the sniper rifle. ‘I have something you may be interested in.’

You stay mute, come to stand with an awkward swinging of hands just shy of her. She eyes you over, toe to head, peers at you with curiosity.

‘Are you trained in any staff or pole-based combat?’ she asks. The question is so left field, words stick in your throat for a moment.

But you mentally shake yourself and answer. ‘Uh, s- some, yeah,’ you stutter. ‘Some staff techniques. But, uh, it’s just been awhile. I’m more used to just hand-to-hand…’

‘Mm,’ she replies. ‘Double-headed techniques?’

‘Uh, sure…’ What--?

She spins on the spot and heads down a row of weaponry, gesturing at you to follow.

From a small bank of two-handed weapons, she lifts a mean-as-hell looking gaffi stick. A long, thick staff. One end curves to hold a vicious spiked bludgeon; the other is fashioned into a winged barb. It has a blooded and intimidating conveyance of murder. Shand holds it out to you.

‘Think you can fight with this?’ she says.

‘Where did--?’

‘Donated to the cause,’ she says, shrugs. ‘By a friend.’

Okay, fine…

You step forward and hold out your hands. She draws the weapon level and drops it into your palms. You’re so grateful you don’t fumble or struggle with it – it lands heavy but with a balance that spurs your reflexes to give it a half twirl and bring it aligned with your body. It’s a good height, hefty but ergonomic.

‘Thought you could make use of it,’ Fennec says, a wry smile.

‘Sure,’ you say, yet again. ‘With some practice.’

She nods in appreciation, like she was hoping you’d say exactly that.

‘Then come with me.’

She grabs a smaller, chunkier pole and leads you to the opposite end of the armoury, which you’re amazed to see opens into a sizable training ground.

It’s not surprising you’ve not been back here. Though you’d been permitted some liberties in this place, you’re well aware certain things have been off-limits. Apparently not anymore.

Fennec strides to a spot that allows plenty of room to move and then settles into a readying stance, raising only an eyebrow.

After a beat of hesitation, then one more just for the embarrassment, you manage a cooling breath in, then out, and move into a wary circle with her.

She reads your face, moves when you move. You draw the savage pole around to hold one end tightly in a fist and slant the rest across a raised elbow.

Unsure how to start, you try a basic cross swing, meeting her parry and converting the movement into a pitch downwards. The edge just glides over her forearm as she twists away.

‘Good!’ she says.

Another motion, you tap the bashing end on the ground and with the momentum make to sweep her legs with it. She backflips over your pull but, as she’s righting herself, the winged end is coming down across the back of her neck. She senses it, twists at the waist and brings her small staff up to block and shove it away.

After a few more moves you step back, huffing a little.

‘You’re quick,’ you say.

‘That’s fortunate,’ she replies. ‘You’re a natural with that.’

The smile slips onto your face before you even think about, the usual twinge of sadness that bites at your every emotion scarcely present for a moment. It is genuine and glad for the first time in… gods, how long? Not since…

The sound of heavy footsteps startles you as someone strides into the arena. As the new arrival moves closer, your expression turns to wide-eyed apprehension. You think you recognise that even, sure gait.

You turn and your anxiety is confirmed when Ari Wren comes to stand a few metres away holding weapons of her own - a long blade and an ornate shield. Fennec nods in greeting and you stand there like a lemon, gripping your stick and fidgeting with it.

‘Ah, good,’ she says by way of hello. ‘Shand thought you may be a good hand with that item.’

Ah fuck she’s talking to you, you think. Say something now, please.

‘I appreciate the… allowance,’ you say. That sounded… okay?

She just nods.

‘Do not let me interrupt,’ she continues. ‘I have practice of my own to do. I will not take up much space.’

Fennec tips her head, ‘Alone today?’

‘Indeed.'

'Your usual sparring partner not joining you?'

Wren shakes her head. 'He was. But Din Djarin seemed to have other duties to attend to on this occasion.’

Your lead weight of a heart drops into your stomach, cold and nauseating. Willing the treacherous thing back into your chest, you turn to Fennec and make a motion to continue; she doesn’t make you hover and readies once again.

As you move and twist and test the scope of the weapon, you take sparing glances at Wren, who is making a ceremony of various battle stances. Broad and strong, and so sure with the blade and shield, she’s impressive.

There’s more important things you should be considering right now, you know this. Like how Fennec Shand, decidedly not Mandalorian, can just be here, handling their weapons and wandering the Covert like a family member. Like what the Armourer had said to you about ‘things having changed here’.

Like why you’ve committed yourself to such risky and dangerous plans in order to take part in this looming battle.

But all you can think about is what Ari Wren is to Din.

Before you can even contemplate stopping yourself, you’re asking questions.

‘So, uh, Wren…’ you start, throwing the words over your shoulder so she hears you. ‘You and Din work well together?’

‘He is a sound strategist,’ she says, moving with fluid grace from one stance to another. ‘And has valuable insight into the imps’ tactics.’

‘Uh huh,’ you mutter, trying out a few flows of your own, long-ago lessons seeping back into muscle memory. Fennec continues to meet each thrust and counter you present to her, but she’s clearly paying attention to your conversation as well. ‘And you spar together too, usually?’

‘Often yes,’ Wren says easily. You bite back bile. ‘He pairs well with most of our Covert for training. And is always willing to meet for a match with anyone. Usually.’

‘Right…’

Fennec is giving you so much side-eye you actually manage to land a blow, clipping the leather armour of her torso. But her sly smirk doesn’t shift one bit. She shakes it off and straightens, signalling a pause to your little exercise.

‘So, what do you think?’ she asks, gesturing at your gifted weapon.

You nod in satisfaction. ‘S’good, well balanced. I like it.’

‘Think you’ll be able to take on their storm troopers with it?’

‘Well,’ you wipe sweat from your brow, give the gaffi stick a heft and a twist. ‘Like I said, you’re fast enough. But,’ another, unbidden grin pulls at the corners of your mouth. ‘They, usually, are not.’

She grins back.

A hot breeze pearls sweat on the skin you have exposed to the humid evening air. It’s a little uncomfortable, but you’re still glad for electing to take in your practice time out in the open. It had come to feel too on edge in the cavernous training space, increasingly busy as the eve of battle approached.

You’re not worried about being discovered by unwanted prying eyes. The patch of earth where you’ve staked your claim is just a little ways from the mouth of the Covert’s primary cave network. A high, crescent ridge gives cover to eighty percent of the surrounding terrain. The only exposure is to the south, where the elevation affords a dazzling view of a dark, shifting sea.

You complete one full run through of a wave form with your staff, before pausing to flex and test the range of motion in your new leathers again. It had been a surprise when a Mando craftsman had presented them to you. ‘On orders from the Armourer,’ he’d explained in a gruff tone.

Similar to Fennec’s fit-out, but even more lightweight and modular, the garments fit you like a glove. You could move about in them with ease, the only rigid aspect being something hard and moulded laid under the shoulder pieces, stitched securely into the firm leather.

The coolest thing about the attire was you could add and remove parts to suit your attack or defence needs. Like now, when you’ve stripped the sleeves and greaves and are shifting across the dusty ground barefoot.

A step here, a lunge here. Bring the weapon around in an angry slash. You feel strong and sure, letting yourself get lost in a violent dance.

It’s when you orient the gaffi stick again to ready a chain combination that you sense eyes on you. You look around, but see no one other than the sentinels on the ridge – looking outwards. You glance back into the opening of the cave. It’s angled such that it drinks in light almost the moment its opening is breached, so it looks pitch black on approach but anyone could stand just within and see clearly out without being seen themselves.

Just as you lock eyes on the darkness, a sudden movement and the slightest glint of reflected light on steel convinces you someone had been doing just that.

But the opportunity to scrutinise that more closely vanishes when the unmistakable sound of inbound craft finds your ears. Fearful for a moment, you whirl to spot a guard making signals that their orbit patrol has returned.

Early. The orbit patrol has returned early.

You look out to the sea-soaked horizon and spy them. All three ships on a rapid approach. The warm evening air feels like a cruel slick of ice down your spine.

Because this only means one thing.

They’ve arrived.

The enemy is here.

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#din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin/reader #din djarin/you #the mandaloria/reader #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader

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myfandomlikesandstories · 9 months

Text

Contained - sequel

Marc Spector x gn!reader

Genre: angst, comfort

Summary: after the events of contained by @luke-o-lophus , Marc gets a call from the reader insisting he comes over for a heart to heart conversation over tea.

Warnings: heavy angst, talks of suicide and self harm, mention of cum, mention of childhood abuse.

Word count: 2020

--------------------

Marc was woken by the shrill ringing of his phone. Usually, he wouldn't bother to pick up in a mood like this, but his sleep clouded mind had the upper hand. By muscle memory alone, Marc answered you.

"Hello?"

"Hi! Um, how are you doing?"

"What?"

"I asked how are you."

"Why are you calling in the middle of the night?"

"... I'm... Not? Marc it's 11 PM. Are you okay?"

There was an uneasy silence on his end of the line. He hated lying to you.

"Okay. I see. Will you come over please? I can pick you up if you want."

"No, no, I'll... I'll come." Marc knew there was no way to avoid you. You had a sense for people's trouble, especially his. And for some reason you wouldn't let him go. After some long years of friendship, he still struggled to understand why you care.

"Alright then. See you soon?"

Marc cleared his throat. "Yeah. See ya."

You felt as if it was one of those nights, and asked: "Do you promise?"

He gathered every crumb of strength he had left in him, and painfully declared: "Yes. I promise."

The call ended, leaving Marc with the impossible task of moving himself to your house. He felt his breath quickening as he realised just how monumental it seemed at his state. He was panicking. There was nothing he wanted more than for you to magically appear in front of him, help him clean up and carry him with you. To see all his pain, but not see it. Understand him but never think he is as damn pathetic as he felt.

At that point, every movement was a risk. Marc felt as if any little thing could start a chain of events and leave his body on autopilot. He was scared to stand up. He was scared to get his bag, the gun was there. He promised you he'll come. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. He couldn't do it. He'd disassociate. He can't leave Steven here, no. He promised you he'll come.

Marc forced a slow breath in through his teeth. What would you do? What did you tell him to do? Come on, come on, think! He was getting frustrated with his brain, working so slow. Trying to think was like connecting unrelated pieces together. Pieces... YES! That's it! Do things in small pieces, break them down. That's what you told him.

Just one step at the time. He put his feet on the floor. ONE. He cleaned off the sticky remains of his cum from his belly. STEP. He put on his shirt. AT. Shoes. A. Bag. TIME! And he was out of the storage complex and briskly walking towards your apartment in the cold night air.

--------------------

You heard a knock on your door and quickly came to open it. You were expecting Marc rather anxiously, you could admit. The kettle was on, and a mug with his favourite tea already stood on the counter waiting for the water to boil.

You opened the door and examined him. He was looking down at his feet, but you could see his nose was a little red from the cold. Why the hell wasn't he wearing a coat?

"Hey," you softly said.

"Hi." He replied with a shaky voice.

"Come in." You extended your hand to him and moved out of the way. He stepped into your flat and was pulled into a hug as soon as you closed the door.

He froze for a second, not totally prepared for the affection thrust his way, but relaxed and wrapped his arms around you. He laid his head on your shoulder and stayed there for a few breaths, then let go.

Marc stood in front of you, uneasy. You gestured to the couch. "The water just boiled, let me get you some tea?" You asked when he sat down.

"Um, uh..."

"Okay. I'm getting the tea."

You brewed two mugs and brought them to the coffee table, along with a box. "I made chocolate chip cookies," you said and opened the lid. Those were Marc's favourites. "Have some."

He was now sitting in front of you, tea in his hand and nibbling on a cookie. A lovely sight, agreeably, but the look on his face still bothered you. He was incredibly tense, as if he might crumble if he breathed too deeply.

There are things in Marc's life that created an almost perpetual hurt. Thrust from trauma to trauma, all that pain has crested and fallen and spiralled down under it's own weight, pulling Marc with it and drowning him. It just never stopped. Life didn't stop. More things happened and more things hurt, he thought he'd seen rock bottom from beneath. There was so little to feel good about, too little light in the darkness. He wasn't even looking up anymore - "how happy can I get" turned to "how much more hurt can I possibly withstand?"

"How much longer can I do this?" he thought. "Is it going to become bearable soon? At any point? Or will it only stop when I stop altogether?"

Marc was terrified of death. Even when he harmed himself, he was meticulous. Careful. He never left scars, always cleaned his wounds. He lied a lot, well enough to fool the army and definitely to fool his dad. Maybe he just didn't care. Maybe he wanted Marc to finish the job himself and leave Wendy "off the hook". Marc would always shudder at the thought. Scared to death of death. Scared and suicidal.

"Marc?" You roused him from his thoughts. "What happened?"

You took the mug from his shaking hands, not wanting it to spill, and set it on the table.

"Talk to me, dear." You leaned to scan his face with your worried eyes.

"Ehh... I don't know where to start." He said quietly, almost ashamed.

You took his hand in yours, as if to strengthen him. "Start from the chronological beginning. What triggered this chain of events?"

"It's, um, it's a long story," he patted your hand and shifted in his seat. "You know what? I'm fine. It's fine. I'm gonna go now, yeah? Feeling great!" He spewed anxiously, but you didn't let go of his hand.

"Sit down, Spector. I'm not done with you."

Marc was wholly taken aback by your stern response. In his shock, he obeyed.

Your eyes softened upon meeting his, and so did your tone.

"I have all the time in the world for you. There is no place I'd rather be, nothing I'd rather do, than sit right here, right now, with you. Tell me."

Marc drew in a shaky breath, exhaled deeper, and spoke.

"You know... For a while, I thought I could put an end to this. If I managed to do this or achieve that... I'd finally be free. My mind would stop... being this way. But it fails, every time. I fail every time. It's all back to ground zero. And I'm just so tired-" his voice cracked and he inhaled sharply.

"I'm so tired of trying. I wish I could just fall asleep and... And not wake up for a long time. A really long time."

You squeezed his hand. "Go on," you told him. "I'm listening." He squeezed your hand back and continued.

"I just wanna be good. It's... It's all I've ever fucking wanted. But nothing I ever do is good enough. I'm running out of ideas, and I wanna be prepared when I run out completely. What do I do then? I wish there was something good I could do. Something I could add to the world. God, I wish it so damn much!" Marc's eyes glistened with tears.

"And... And I'm not even supposed to be here. I'm not supposed to be this way. Marc... 9 year old Marc is the person the world asked for. Nobody asked for me. I'm twisted, I'm a product of circumstances, I'm a parasite who took over an innocent kid's life. I'm not supposed to be here. Not this way." His voice was chocked and cracking, so he took a few deep breaths to steady himself.

"I can think of at least three ways of... ending this. I'm scared. I'm scared that if I'll get up nothing will stop me. I know exactly what I'm gonna do but I don't want to do it! I don't wanna do it!" Marc's tears were flowing freely out of his wide open, terrified eyes. He pulled your hand to his chest, intertwined in his.

"I don't wanna go," he mumbled. "I don't wanna go, I don't wanna go, I don't wanna go, I don't wanna go!!!" Marc was openly sobbing now, shaking and swaying back and forth trying to self sooth. You let him rock for a minute, but when his grip on your hand became painful you leaned back on the couch and instructed him to lay on you.

He burrowed his face into the crook of your neck, and you started to run your hands through his hair, scratching gently at his curls.

"It's okay, dear. It's alright. I'm here. You're not going anywhere, I'm not letting you go. It's alright. I've got you. I'm holding you and I'm not leaving. We're okay." Your grip on him never loosened, not even after your shoulder was soaked and Marc had been crying for over an hour. You just held him, stroked his back and his head, planted little kisses on his hairline and never stopped talking. You wouldn't let the silence consume him.

"You're good, Marc. You deserve to live. I love you. I'm here. It's okay. You're safe. Everything will stop hurting eventually, I promise. It'll be okay. I'm here for you. I care, and I'm listening. Yeah, let it all out, I've got you. It's okay. You're good and you're loved and you're worthy. The world will be good and kind and you will be happy. There will come peace and surround you and it'll come from within. I love you."

You continued that way for a long time, him crying and sobbing and weeping and wailing and you - containing. Encompassing. Embracing. You were grateful for the trust he had in you, and for the opportunity to help. You held him until his sobs subsided, his distress dying down, but didn't let go even then.

When his all consuming sorrow had showed itself as only sniffles, when you've been cuddled together so long you'd become one, when you were absolutely certain he wouldn't disintegrate when you looked away, you relaxed your grip on him, and suggested a hot shower. He was too exhausted to argue, so you led him to the bathroom and put out a change of clean clothes for him.

"Stay the night," you asked. "Stay with me."

Marc obliged. He was still scared to be alone. In the shower he eyed your shaving razor as if it was staring at him, asking to be abused. Asking to abuse him. He washed as quickly as he could and practically burst out of the bathroom, towel around his hips and breathing heavy. He heard you faintly humming to yourself from the other room and relaxed, dressed himself and came to meet you.

"Hi." He said, tapping on your shoulder.

"Hey there. How are you feeling?"

"Much better. You were right about the shower."

"Glad to hear that. You must be spent, eh?"

"Yeah, I'm fucking exhausted. You're too, right?"

"Yeah. But I'm alright. I'm happy you're here."

"Thank you." He says shyly. "Do you want to go to sleep? I'll get a sheet for the couch-"

You stopped him. "What couch? No, Marc, I have a bed that we both happen to fit in. I said I'm not leaving you. I mean it. Come sleep with me tonight."

Marc was more grateful than he would ever admit. "Okay, thank you," he said. A few minutes later you were both warm and cozy in your bed, bodies tangled together.

"Thank you," Marc whispered. "I love you."

"I love you too, dear. Forever."

--------------------

Tagging some mutuals: @ivystoryweaver @romanarose @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @spider-starry @eyelessfaces

#my post #moon knight #fanfic #angst #moon knight angst #moon knight hurt comfort #hurt comfort #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction #marc spector x gn reader #marc spector x reader #marc spector angst #tw food #moon knight x reader #moon knight x gn!reader #marc spector x gn!reader

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jxtina-86 · 11 months

Text

We'll Be Okay

So many decisions, so little time. I thought I had my mind made up, but now I'm not so sure. RomanReigns/Alexia. See here for the rest of the series/order to read.

Warning: Language/Hints of smut

Rating: MA

Italics = flashback

I flick through a magazine, barely noticing the photos or articles as they all blur into one. Glancing up at the clock on the wall, I realise I've still got another ten minutes till my appointment. Ten more painfully slow minutes.

Fumbling in my bag, I tug out my phone and stare at the time again, as if the clock on the wall is lying to me. It isn't. Unlocking it, I head straight for my messages even though I know there are none. The same goes for missed calls and emails. I chew my lip, dropping the phone back into my purse before crossing my arms over my now obviously swollen belly.

A small smile tugs at my lips as I stare down at the round bump protruding from my lower half. My shirt is snug, a reminder that I need to start purchasing some proper maternity clothes before I start to bust the buttons in my shirts and pants. My weekends are currently spent in stretchy pants and one of Roman's shirts, the cuffs rolled up to my elbows as I spend a few hours running errands and the rest of the time sparked out on the couch, exhaustion now a consistent factor in my life.

But I wouldn't change it for the world. No way. My hand sneaks down, resting on my bump as I re-call the shiny-eyed smile that broke across Roman's face when I told him. I could relive that memory a thousand times and not get bored. In fact, I do relive it, every time he comes home or wakes up next to me or just walks from the kitchen to the lounge to find me. That smile is a permanent fixture and every time I see it, my heart threatens to burst with love.

Love for him.

Love for Pumpkin.

When I found out, I was in shock. Mainly because I didn't want to believe it after what had happened before. I couldn't put myself or Roman through that again. I was so cautious, refusing to believe the test until Dr Ash confirmed it herself. Telling Roman made it all so real. Before that point, it still felt like a figment of my imagination. And to be honest, even when I watched him caress my stomach and we joked about a nickname for my then non-existent bump, it still felt too good to be true.

The first scan changed all of that. I can remember how tightly his hand squeezed mine as my breath caught in my throat as the sound of our baby's heart echoed out of the speakers. And there, on the screen, the fuzzy outline of what we'd made. There was no denying it anymore, no need to think that one day I would wake up and find out it was all a dream. I remember looking over at Roman, my eyes stinging as I saw the unshed tears in his eyes, his hand still tight around mine as he drew a shaky breath and the doctor made her excuses to give us a moment.

“You okay?” I murmur as the door clicks shut, my eyes still on him as I watch him stare, transfixed.

“Yeah.” His voice is soft, barely a whisper.

I squeeze his hand and his gaze drops down, to stare at our intertwined fingers. And then glistening dark brown orbs meet mine and I'm tugging him towards me, my fingers releasing his so I can raise both hands to brush away the tears that start to slide down his cheeks.

“Hey,” I choke, my own emotions taking hold. “This is supposed to be a happy moment.” I try to grin, but my own tears are now spilling free.

“Then why are you crying?” he shoots back as he cups my face and presses his forehead against mine.

“Because I'm happy.”

“And so am I,” he tells me, his lips brushing over mine again and again. “Thank you.”

I stroke the back of his neck, my face twisting from his to stare back at the frozen image on the screen.

“Thank you,” I breathe, but I'm not sure who I'm thanking. Roman for giving me Pumpkin, or Pumpkin for giving us something we never realised we wanted so much. Maybe both, who knows. All I know is that I am beyond grateful for this moment and for all future moments to come.

We took multiple copies of the scan photo, one for each set of parents and family and two for ourselves. Mine is carefully placed in the folds of my diary, the white edge always peeking at me, begging to be looked at every time I pull the book from my purse and every time I give in, a jolt of excitement passing through me as I run my finger over the image.

Roman's is wedged into his wallet and I couldn't help but grin when I caught sight of it one day and noted how worn the edges were, how the white had started to lose its colour. My heart swelled at the thought of him tugging it loose and staring at the image of his child in countless cars, airports, arenas and hotels.

So I decided to add to that one image. A selfie of Pumpkin and I each week, my face pulled into variety of comical expressions as I clutch my forever growing belly. I started to snap them on a Monday night, something for him to find on his phone after RAW, along with a little note about how proud we both are of him and more recently, about the small fluttering sensation I've been feeling in my stomach when his voice echoes through the TV.

He called me the first time I mentioned the latter. I could hear the raw emotion in his voice as he asked me to tell him exactly what happened and then there was a short gasp of silence and I heard him sniff and all I wanted to do was reach out through the phone and pull him back to me, close to me. I wonder sometimes if I'm doing the right thing, if telling him all of these things and sending him photos is doing more harm than good. All I want is for him to feel like he's right here with me, living every moment of this incredible journey we're both on. But at the same time, I realise how difficult it must be for him to watch from afar. And this is only the beginning and I worry, fuck, I worry so damn much about what it'll be like when Pumpkin is born and the changes in development will be coming thick and fast and Roman will miss most of them.

It's something that I've been meaning to talk to him for a while now, but I can never seem to find the right time. When he's home, we're too preoccupied in catching up with each other, rather than delving into anything too deep and scary such as how he'll rarely be home to see his son or daughter grow up. But I know it's a conversation we need to have. He's promised me a thousand times that nothing will change between us, but what we have is something that we have worked at tirelessly for years now; I have no doubt about our strength as a couple. Yet it doesn't stop the nagging fear about the strength of the bond between him and our baby. There is no doubt in my mind that Roman will be the best father any child could ask for, but I'm terrified that the long periods away from home will somehow have an adverse affect on him or her, that Roman will become some secondary figure in their life. And that is the last thing I want to happen.

I want our baby to know that their father loves them so fucking much, that they are the best thing that could ever happen in his life, that his life is complete now that they are in it. I want our baby to know how hard their father works to make sure they never go without, that he's fortunate enough to do something he loves in order to support all three of us. I want our baby to be as proud of Roman as I am, to know he does everything in his power to make sure we're happy, even if he's on the other side of the country.

Something bumps against my leg and I blink to see a blonde-haired boy staring up at me. His eyes are a piercing blue, a curious look playing on his face as he studies my own features before his gaze drops down to my belly. With a tentative hand, he reaches out and pats my bump and I can't help but let out a giggle as he frowns.

“Nathan!”

I glance up to see a heavily pregnant woman approaching.

“What did I tell you about running off like that?” she scolds, reaching for his hand. “I'm so sorry,” she tells me with an apologetic smile. “His little sister has been kicking up a storm recently when he touches my bump, but he can't understand why the same doesn't happen when he touches strangers bumps.”

She turns to Nathan, whose face is still scrunched up in confusion. “What did we talk about, huh? You can't go touching other ladies bellies, it's not polite, is it? And your sister is in here,” she points at her own incredible bump. “Nowhere else, right?”

She takes a seat opposite me, heaving Nathan up onto the chair next to her. Her eyes flicker down to my bump. “How far along are you?”

“22 weeks,” I reply with a smile.

“Your first?”

I nod.

“Boy or girl?” she asks and then she grins. “Or are you here to find out?”

“Perhaps. I'm not sure.” I rub my hand over my bump.

“What about your husband?”

“He's not sure either,” I chuckle and she smiles widely in response.

“Isn't he here?”

“He travels a lot. I had to cancel my last appointment as he got called away at short notice.” I have no idea why I'm spilling all this detail to a stranger in a waiting room, but it feels good to talk to someone who doesn't know mine and Roman's situation. “But his flight today has been delayed, so I'm not sure if he'll make it in time.”

She smiles sympathetically. “Mine missed the birth of this one,” she reaches out and ruffles Nathan's hair. “By minutes too. He was stuck in traffic and crashed through the door just as they were cleaning him up.”

“How far along are you with your second?” I ask as Nathan's hand creeps onto his mother's stomach. She grins down at him and I watch incredulously as her belly moves, her baby jolting into action.

“37 weeks. Weekly check-up time.”

I'm about to respond, when my name is called out.

“That's me,” I say as I get to my feet and grab my purse. “Good luck with the next few weeks,” I tell her, smiling at Nathan.

“Thank you. You too.” Her eyes flicker to behind me. “Is that your husband?”

My head instantly whips around, my heart pounding as my mind fights to keep my cool, to not believe it until I see him with my own eyes. But there he is, towering in the doorway as he waits for a young couple to exit. He flashes them his trademark smile before manoeuvring himself and his bags through the door. Casting his gaze around the room, his face breaks into a far more genuine smile when he spots me.

“Damn, your baby's gonna be super cute,” my new acquaitance pipes up.

I glance back at her with a shy grin. “Thanks.”

She winks at me with a knowing smile, her eyes darting to behind me and I look around to see he's in arms length. It takes all the strength I have not to fling myself at him. It's been a shorter stint apart than usual, but it doesn't change how much I miss being curled up in those arms of his.

“Alexia Reigns?” The nurse is calling again.

“Just in time,” I tell Roman as he wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me close, his lips instantly finding my forehead.

“Baby girl,” he breathes. “I'm so sorry.”

“What for?” I smile up at him as we pick our way towards where the waiting nurse stands, ready to show us the way to the consulting room. “Like I said, you're just in time.”

“I know. The taxi queue was insane at the airport and then the traffic...”

I reach up and squeeze his hand that rests on my shoulder.

“And I just wanted to be here to wait with you. We didn't get a chance to–” he starts, but the nurse soon interrupts me to tell me to get comfortable on the examination table and to roll up my shirt ready for the scan.

“The doctor will be in shortly,” she tells us with a brief smile before leaving us alone.

Roman takes my purse, placing it on top his bags as I ease myself onto the table and start to unbutton the bottom of my shirt.

“How you feeling?” His fingers brush against my arm.

“Good. Although I don't think you're gonna appreciate my new sleeping position.”

He chuckles. “You hogging all the pillows now?”

I nod. “One under the bump, one between my legs, one against my chest and the usual two under my head. I mean, I tried that one your mom got me, but it honestly just wasn't as comfortable.”

Cool air hits my skin as I ease up the tank top under my shirt, before fumbling with the waistband of my pants, pushing them down to rest just under my bump. I smile as Roman's hand carefully caresses the exposed skin, watching how his face seems to shift into an expression that only appears when his attention is purely devoted to Pumpkin. The first time I saw this look in his eye, of pure unconditional love, I knew that this worth all the agony and waiting. I never quite realised how different a love for a baby could be. I love Roman with all my heart and I would do anything for him, but that's a love that we've worked for and nurtured for years now. We haven't even met our baby and yet, we are already both head over heels in love and that love is only going to become stronger as time goes on.

“Lex,” he murmurs, his eyes flickering back up to meet mine. “I was thinking... Does it matter if we find out now or in a few months time?”

It's the question we've been asking ourselves since the beginning. Do we want to know or not? Does it matter if we're having a boy or a girl? Whilst we joke about the supposed benefits of each sex, when it comes down to it, we'd be happy, more than happy, either way. But we've both admitted the overwhelming urge to find out now, to be able to announce it to our families and friends, to help us make decisions on nursery colours and to buy toys and clothes in preparation for his or her arrival, along with the most important decision of all – a name.

For a while, I've secretly wondered if Roman wanted to know so he could prepare himself for how he should be as a father. A boy would naturally instigated a passing on of not only a family name, but of responsibility when he was older, becoming the man of the house so to speak in Roman's absence. Yet a girl would call for a more protective stance and I wondered if that's what he wanted to prepare for, the thought of leaving his girls every week and a fear that a girl would align herself with me more, creating that snag in the bond between him and her.

He has never vocalised these concerns, but the questioning look in his eye does little to ease my own worry.

“It's up to you,” I tell him softly, my hand reaching for his. “I don't mind if we find out now or later.”

“No way,” he says with a wry smile. “You can't put this all on me.”

“I honestly don't mind.”

He narrows his eyes as he studies my face. “Yes, you do.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine. I don't want to know. I'm quite looking forward to finding out when Pumpkin finally arrives and the doctor announces the sex. I want that to spur me on in those painful moments that I have to do this, because not only am I going to meet my baby, but I'm going to find out if I've been given a boy or a girl.”

“But you said yourself it would make loads of decision a lot easier to make if we found out today.”

“Sure, but then I saw this cute idea online of a yellow and grey nursery...”

Roman chuckles, his hand pulling mine up to his lips. “And names?”

“It's not like we're any closer to choosing any for either sex. I think finding out would make it a lot harder.”

His mouth opens to respond, but the door is suddenly pushed open and Dr Ash enters with my file in hand.

“Alexia, good to see you again. And Roman, I see you made it in time,” she greets, reaching out to shake our hands.

“Just about,” Roman grins in response.

“Good...” she takes a seat next to the table, switching on the sonogram machine. “So, Alexia, are you still having trouble sleeping?”

“It's getting better,” I tell her. “Still a little uncomfortable, but I'm working on it.”

“Good... And the nausea has completely gone now?”

“Yes, at last.”

“Any changes since I last saw you, aside from the obvious?” She smile as she nods at my bump.

Roman almost manages to muffle his snort of laughter and I scowl. “My hormones are a bit up and down.”

“Understatement of the year,” he mutters under his breath and I squeeze his hand hard in response.

Dr Ash nods. “That's completely normal, Alexia. Your body is changing in more ways than one, it's natural for your emotions to change as well. And I'm afraid it's probably going to continue this way right up until the birth.”

“Great...” I mumble. “So completely natural to go from crying to horny in a matter of minutes.”

Dr Ash raises her eyes to meet mine, with a small smile. “Sounds strange, but yes.” She makes a note in the file and then reaches for a bottle of ultrasound gel. “I apologise if this is a bit cold.”

She squirts the gel onto my stomach, the coolness making me flinch slightly.

“So, I'll take some measurements, make sure growth is on track and check the heartbeat. Now, depending on position, I might also be able to tell you if you're having a boy or girl.”

“Yeah, about that...” I glance up at Roman.

The doctor pauses. “Is this something you're yet to discuss?”

“No, we've discussed it,” Roman starts.

“Many times,” I chime in. “We're in two minds.”

“It's not a problem. Lots of couples find it hard to decide.” She smiles as she adjusts the monitor, moving closer to place the scanner on my stomach. “I can always make a note of it and if you want to find out later, you can give me a call?”

Roman catches my eye. “Lex?”

“I guess...”

“I once wrote it down and sealed it in an envelope for one couple who weren't sure either,” she comments as she studies the screen. “They eventually decided to find out, but gave it to a cake-maker and told them to make an iced cake with either blue or pink sponge inside.”

I'm about to respond when I see a familiar blurry outline appear on screen. My breath instantly catches in my throat, just as it did the first time I saw this very same image. Only this time, it's bigger, more defined than 10 weeks ago. The outline is more distinctive, more recognisable as a baby. Roman's hand squeezes mine again as the doctor makes more notes in my file.

“Baby looks good, growth is on track. Heartbeat is normal too, so progress is as expected.” She turns back to us. “So, I have to have a closer look and this is the point where it's going to be obvious if you are having a boy or girl. If you're still unsure, I suggest averting your eyes for the next few minutes.”

I look up at Roman. “Hey, no peeking. We either find out together or we both wait, right?”

“Right.” He tears his eyes away from the screen and looks down at me, his gaze steady. “So grey and yellow, huh?”

I smile. “I picked out a cot and some other furniture too. Although I don't know how much of it I can put together-”

“Don't even suggest it,” he frowns. “I'll do it.”

I raise an eyebrow. “First off, when? And secondly, I remember very clearly the fiasco when it came to putting together our wardrobes.”

“That was all Dean and Seth.”

“They did a far better job than you did,” I remind him.

“I was distracted,” he winks and I feel my cheeks flushing, my skin prickling with heat as his eyes glow at the memory. Fucking hormones.

“Excuses, excuses,” I manage to muster up, desperate to look away but I can't. If I look away, I'll see the screen, but if I hold his gaze, I'll give myself away. Although judging by the smirk that's gracing his lips, I already have.

He leans down until his mouth is next to my ear, his voice a low whisper. “Nah, baby girl. Just the truth. And you still know damn well that was your intention all along.”

“I ain't that kinda girl,” I murmur haughtily, my eyes flickering closed as I feel his breath on my earlobe.

He chuckles as he stands tall again, his fingers gently pushing back a strand of hair. I watch as his tongue wets his lips.

“Right, all done.”

My eyes flicker back to the doctor and the screen, my heart sinking as I note the blank screen.

“I'm pleased to say that your baby is looking very healthy indeed. No need for any additional check-ups, but when we see you next time, we can re-assess if anything changes. And of course, if you notice any changes that don't seem to be in line with what we have already discussed, please let me know.” Dr Ash closes the file and hands me a tissue to wipe the leftover gel from my belly. “Any questions?”

I shake my head as I roll the waistband of my pants back up and start to move my tank top and shirt back into place.

“You said you could write it, the sex I mean, down for us,” Roman blurts out. “In an envelope?”

Dr Ash gives me a brief look. “Alexia?”

“I...” I look up at Roman.

“We don't have to decide right now whether to open it or not. I just want to know that if we decide to find out, we can find out right then and there, rather than waiting to make a call.” He holds out his hand to me as I ease myself down from the table. “I'm not gonna find out without you wanting too as well. I just think we need to talk about it more and having the envelope with us there and then, well it means we can do it before we change our minds again.”

I bite my lip. The thought is tempting, the small and ever so fickle part of my brain is softly nudging my more rational headspace, willing it to accept the envelope, promising to listen to all arguments for and against finding out.

“Lex, I'm not going to pressure you into finding out if you don't want to. I'll accept if that's what you want to do, I promise.”

I turn my gaze back to Dr Ash. “Can you write it down, please?”

She smiles. “Of course.” She reaches behind her for a notepad, rustling through a desk drawer for an envelope.

“Thank you,” Roman murmurs, his arm wrapping around me.

And strangely, it's not only his hand that's shaking when he reaches for the sealed envelope a second or so later. Mine is trembling too.

“You said you wanted to talk,” I mumble against Roman's chest as we curl against each other on the couch.

His hand trails down my back, lazy and soft. “We've got plenty of time for that, baby girl. No rush, remember? We can find out whenever we want.”

The envelope is propped up on the mantlepiece, 'Baby Reigns' scrawled across the front, a constant reminder of what we could be minutes, seconds even, away from finding out should the mood take us. It's been almost 24 hours since we left the doctor's and we are yet to have a proper conversation about the possibilities that lie before us. My eyes have been constantly drawn towards the envelope, but every time, I force myself to look away, to remember what I so adamantly stated yesterday. I want the surprise. I want the unknown.

My eyes haven't been the only ones that have been playing an endless game of cat and mouse with said envelope. I've noticed Roman's eyes linger on the mantlepiece more than once and each time, I held my breath, waiting for him to commence his opening statement as to why we should tear it open and see what lies inside. But he's said nothing, not a word. Not even when we were lying in bed last night, his fingers drawing endless circles across my belly as he nuzzled into my neck. Not even this morning as he wrapped his arms around me whilst I waited for the kettle to boil or when he joined me in the shower for a few brief moments, his kiss long and sultry, almost convincing me to call in sick just so we could finish what we started.

“You're back on the road tomorrow,” I point out softly. “And you know that we'll never get a chance to talk for long enough about this until you get back.”

“I thought you had your mind made up?”

“I do. But that doesn't mean that I'm not willing to hear you out. We have to decide together, right?”

“Right,” he agrees, his hand slides over my shoulder, squeezing comfortingly. “My previous point still stands though. What difference does it make if we find out now or later? It's still going to be either a boy or a girl, no matter when we find out.”

“Not true,” I look up at him. “What if Dr Ash got it wrong?”

“What the are the chances of that happening?”

“Not likely, but it can happen. What if the envelope reveals it's a girl, but it turns out that our son was just feeling shy yesterday? Or if it says it's a boy, but it just so happened our daughter's hand was scratching an itch?”

“We don't have to tell anyone else, Lex. It can just stay between us if you want.” His fingers brush against my cheek. “And we can still pick out names for both, just in case, still decorate the nursery in neutral colours if that's what you want. Nothing has to change.”

“But it will. Pumpkin will become a he or a she. I kind of like that I could be speaking to either.”

He chuckles. “You speak to Pumpkin?”

I blush. “Yeah... The pregnancy books suggested it.”

“What do you talk about?”

I shake my head. “I see what you're doing, you're changing the subject.”

He chuckles, ducking his head down to brush his lips across my forehead. “Never. I'm interested.”

Glancing down at my bump, I smile softly. “I talk about you.”

“Lex...”

“I talk about how much their Daddy loves his work, how he has to be away a lot but that doesn't mean he doesn't love them any less. I talk about how much he already cares for them, how he can't wait to meet them.” I raise my head again, my voice threatening to crack when I catch Roman's eye. “I talk about how proud I am of you, how much I love you, how much you love me too, how happy you make me, Ro.”

I reach up to stroke his cheek, cupping his face and pulling him down to me. Our lips brush against each other, tentatively at first, tender kisses ensuing until he wraps his arms around me and holds me to him, sucking firmly on my bottom lip before delving back for more. I gasp for breath as he lets me go for a second, only to moan into his mouth as he tugs me back for more, fingers in my hair, anchoring me to him. Not that I want to move away. No way. I want to stay here forever as he shows me how much he loves me in the way he holds and caresses me. There's no need for words, only actions, only the warmth of his mouth and the strength of his soul.

“Lex,” he breathes as he pulls back. “You're the best thing that has ever happened to me. And I don't want to spoil that by doing something stupid.”

I shake my head. “You would never–”

“But I am,” he continues, cutting me off. “I'm being selfish. I should be thinking like you, about how exciting it will be to not only meet our baby but to find out then and there if it's a boy or a girl.”

“Ro... You're not being selfish. You could argue that I'm the selfish one for not wanting to know.” I close my eyes and pray that I'm not about to realise my worst fears. “Why do you want to know? Tell me. Please.”

“I...” he stammers, falling into a brief silence before my heart starts to sink. “I want to know how to feel.”

I look up and fuck... His face is full of trepidation, his eyes aglow with something that looks like... Fear.

“You know I love you and you know I love Pumpkin,” he places a large hand over mine on my belly. “I'd do anything for either of you, I swear. But at the same time, I haven't got a fucking clue what I'm doing.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, but I think I already know the answer.

“Lex, I have no idea if I'm the right person to be a father.”

Even though my worst suspicions have just been confirmed, it doesn't stop his words from stunning me.

“I've seen first hand what this industry does to families, it can tear them apart. It means that I'm going to end up spending more time away from my family, from you, from Pumpkin than I will here with the both of you. How the hell am I supposed to be a father when I'm never here?” He draws a shaky breath. “What if by not being here, our baby grows up resenting that? Resenting me...”

He trails off and I stumble over myself to correct him.

“That's never going to happen,” I tell him firmly. “We both know that you do what you do to provide us, to make sure we never go without, to ensure that we will always have a roof over our heads. Those are things that already make you a great dad, Ro. No child of yours is ever going to resent you for providing for them.”

“I spent a good few years as a teenager mad at my dad,” he murmurs, his hand still on my bump, his eyes down and avoiding my gaze. “He was never around when I needed him. My mom had to play both roles in my life and it was tough. I used to hate how he'd just come back after being on the road and expect everything to fall back into place, as if it was as simple as that. I watched my mom work to keep us all in check and for a while, it felt like he did nothing to contribute to that.”

“That's only natural,” I comfort. “You were a kid, you only saw one side of things. And you appreciate what your dad did for all of you now.”

“Of course. But I didn't see it then. It took me a long time to see it that way and sometimes I look back and realise that perhaps the only reason I changed my view on his decisions was because I'm where I am now. When I started on the road, I realised what he was putting himself through to provide for us.” He pauses. “What if our son never sees it like that?”

“And what about our daughter?” I challenge. “You don't think she'll see it like that? My mom raised me and my brother single-handedly. I sure as hell had a whole arson full of resentment for my dad.”

He frowns. “That's not what I mean.”

“I know,” I soften. “I do, honestly, Ro. But what I'm trying to say that if that's your reason for wanting to find out, I don't think those feelings are exclusive to just boys.”

“I just want to know how I'm supposed to react.”

I cup his cheek, my fingers brushing against his temple. “I'm scared too. I can read all the books I like, but nothing is going to prepare me for when they hand me our baby for the first time. I have no idea how I'm going to feel then. I hope I feel the same love I feel right now, but who knows? I'm petrified that I'm in love with an idea of what it's going to be like, rather than the reality. I'm terrified that I'm going to be a bad mother, that I'm going to do everything that I'm not supposed to.” I shift further up on the couch so that I can press my forehead against his. “You're not alone in this, Ro. I'm right there with you.”

“You make it look so easy,” he tells me. “You're a natural at this, Lex. Some days I still can't get my head around the fact that you're pregnant, yet you take it all in your stride.”

“I cried when I first realised my bump was visible,” I confess and his eyes widen. “It all felt too real and I didn't know how to handle it.”

“Baby girl...”

“And then,” I continue with a smile. “You came home a few days later and you were in such awe of it, touching it, kissing it. All the anxiety and insecurities that I was feeling just vanished in an instant. You made me feel proud of how my body was changing, excited for all the changes to come.”

His lips brush against mine briefly.

“You make me realise I can do this, Ro. You make me stronger by doing and saying things that make me feel a thousand times better, no matter what baby-related, fear-inducing moment or thought I've just had. And I want to do the same for you. I want to make you realise that you can do this too.” I pause. “Because I can't do this without you. I really can't. And that doesn't mean you always being in the same city or even the same house as me. You do plenty to make me feel like I'm not alone when you're on the road. And I just need to know that's not going to change.”

“Never, I promise.” He holds my gaze steadily, his thumb stroking my cheek gently before he cups the back of my head. “I got you, you got me.”

“Exactly,” I smile. “And I totally got you, Ro. Boy or girl, you can do this. I know you'll love whatever we have, I know you'll always do what's right for our family, whether you're here or in a city on the other side of the country, because that's what you've always done for me and I know that's what you'll do for Pumpkin.”

I rest my hand over his and then we both freeze.

“Was that...?” Roman starts, trailing off as there's another, barely there kick.

“Yes,” I giggle.

“Have you ever felt that before?”

“No,” I whisper, staring down at our hands before raising my eyes to meet his.

“Shit,” Roman murmurs. “That felt–”

“Weird,” I grin. “That was definitely not a flutter like I've felt before.”

We're both quiet for a few minutes, our hands still on my bump waiting for more, but it seems that the show is over.

“Looks like that was reserved just for you,” I tell him as I slowly start to get off the couch, a yawn taking hold of me as I notice how late it is. I hold out my hand to Roman. “You staying up or coming to bed?”

But he doesn't answer me, instead he captures my hand and tugs me to him, until I'm stood between his legs as he stares up at me. I watch with a small smile as he brings his face closer, his lips brushing against my swollen belly.

“I love you,” he murmurs, his eyes flickering closed as he wraps his arms around my waist and holds me to him. I can feel his lips moving, the soft vibration of his voice, but the words are lost against my shirt.

But I don't need to hear them to know what he's saying. My hand runs over his head, softly tugging at his hair until he raises his eyes to meet mine.

“We'll be okay, Ro. You'll be okay.”

Warm breath on my neck stirs me awake, a hand sliding over my hip, fingers teasing my inner thigh. I stretch, my back arching, my ass hitting something hard.

“Lexi...” Roman's voice is thick and gravelly. His hand moves back to my hip, gripping firmly as he holds me in place, slowly grinding his obvious arousal against my backside.

My fingers scrape against the pillow as I bite back a moan, my body awakening at a faster pace than my mind as I press back against him. He growls his approval, his hand slipping back to my thigh, his fingers teasing once again and my head rocks back, my eyes slowly opening.

Deep brown eyes greet me, full of a beautiful combination of sleep and lust. Gone is the timid nature that he used to approach me with in the early days of pregnancy, when he'd fight to handle me like precious china until I begged him to give me what I wanted. Now I don't have to ask, I don't have to plead. My wonderful, handsome, sex-on-fucking-legs husband is back, showing me exactly what he wants right now as he grinds purposefully, a wicked glint in his eye.

His fingers pluck at my panties in frustration and I'm right there with him, wondering why I made such a stupid decision when getting ready for bed last night. Roman, on the other hand, made the wise choice to wear nothing to bed as usual and I can feel the full length of his dick nestling against my ass cheeks, slipping back and forth with every movement. I grunt impatiently as his fingers slide inside the waistband of my panties for a split second and then retreat to tease me through them instead.

“Patience,” he mumbles, ducking down to capture my lips as he rubs his thumb in soft circles across my clit and then dips a finger further south, tracing my entrance through the material. I can already feel my skin prickling with heat as his tongue pushes languidly into my mouth and I greet it with the same ease.

“Please...” I gasp as he release me, his thumb continuing to tease, his fingers still exploring at a slow and steady pace.

He eventually gives in and I help to push my panties down my legs. I reach for him, pulling him back to me, but he shakes his head. Nudging the sheets away, he reaches for the pillows which have cocooned me for most of the night, but now lay strewn across the bed. He tugs one towards us, easing it under my side.

“Comfortable?” he asks, his hand stroking my hair, sending shivers up and down my spine. I nod, desperate to feel him against me again, but grateful for the way that he continues to make sure I'm okay. He smiles as he settles back behind me once again, gently rocking me so that my belly rests against the pillow, allowing me to move my upper leg higher on the bed.

Mornings have always been my time and pregnancy has just added to that. Even when he's not here, I wake up horny as hell, my mind having to do all the work to transport Roman back to our bed, whilst my fingers touch and tease until I'm screaming his name into my pillow. But today, I don't need to imagine.

He pushes my hair up, blowing warm air on the back of my neck as his fingers run from the top of my spine to the bottom, over as my ass and back between my legs. I hum in approval as one finger slides against my entrance and his corresponding groan tells me everything I need to know. I can feel it too, an intense warmth slowly brewing in the pit of my stomach, my thighs starting to ache as he swipes his finger back and forth.

“Damn, baby girl... You get wetter every time...”

His words make me swallow hard, my head starting to spin as his finger dips inside me for a brief second.

“Ro...”

“That's it, Lexi... Fuck...”

His finger lingers this time, curling inside me until I cry out and he chuckles in satisfaction.

“More?” he questions with a groan and I nod jerkily as his thumb circles my clit. “Slow? Hard? Tell me, Lexi. Tell me what you want.”

“You,” I gasp. “Slow...”

He nuzzles my neck, my head rocking back again so he can kiss me again, swallowing my inevitable moan as his finger pushes back inside me and he starts to side in and out at a glacial pace. I can hear how wet I am, the sounds of my slick pussy filling the room along with my muffled moans and gasps for breath.

His other arm curls around me, his hand seeking out a breast, cupping it softly at first. His thumb takes a gentle swipe at my nipple and I flinch at how sensitive they've become.

“No,” I groan as he lets go instantly. “Just... Gentle...”

I need him, I need him like I've always needed him. I want to crash and burn in his arms. I want to scream out his name and feel him pull me close, holding me until I can catch my breath and open my eyes again. I want to feel him take my body and conduct it in the way only he knows how. His instincts always set me on fire, his hands, his mind, his whole being knows me inside and out and I never want to lose that.

“More,” I hiss and he obliges, two fingers pushing back inside me and I automatically clench them tightly. He growls, his dick jerking against my ass still and I feel light-headed at how full I'm going to feel when he's buried deep inside me.

“More?” he asks again, his thumb soft and slow on my clit.

I nod, my own hands clutching at his arms, afraid that he's going to drag this out. I can't take it. I can't take the teasing. I can feel my chest tightening, my eyes squeezing shut as I grind down on his fingers, hissing as they slide deeper inside me. My breath comes in short, rapid gasps as he pushes me closer and closer, his mouth at my ear.

“Fuck, Lex... Ride my fingers, baby girl. Squeeze 'em... That's it... Harder...”

I'm unravelling quicker than I ever imagined, my body shutting down, numbness creeping from my toes up my legs, taking hold of my entire being. All I can focus on are his fingers, between my legs, inside me, on my nipple, tugging it gently as I whimper and then howl, my lungs burning with the effort as my orgasm slams into me.

Roman's fingers slip from me and I watch in a daze as he licks them clean with a grin.

“Better every time,” he tells me, kissing me softly and letting me taste myself on his tongue.

And then I'm rolling, eased onto my stomach, pillows bundled beneath me as he tugs my hips up. I turn my head to the side, smiling as he reaches down to push the hair from my face.

“You okay, baby girl?” He asks, his voice rough with desire as he fists his dick with one hand, the other sliding over my back, down to my ass where he squeezes firmly.

“Yeah... Ro...” I lick my lips, watching his dick slide back and forth in his hand. “Please...”

He grins. “Ssh, you know I got you.” Leaning forward, he presses the tip against my entrance, slipping back and forth and then pulling back so I can see his dick shining with my juices. “How'd you want it? Slow? Fast?”

I shrug. “I just want it.”

He chuckles. “That's my girl.”

My hand reaches forward to grasp at the sheets, to hold myself steady but I still lose my balance as he pushes inside me. He's quick to correct me, his hands on my hips as he pushes further in, slow and steady, fighting to keep himself in check. He feels bigger than ever, my walls tight around him and I can tell from his muttered curse that he can feel that too.

He stills for a second, but I rock back, groaning as I feel my ass press against his pelvis.

“Please,” I choke out, my final plea before he gives me what I want.

His fingers dig in painfully hard as he struggles to keep it slow. But I don't want it slow. I want him to take what he needs as well. I need him to lose a little control, because when he comes undone, when he lets himself get taken over by his animalistic tendencies, that's when my own body lets go too. And I need that. I want to let go.

“Harder.”

He grunts, his hips rocking a little faster, a little rougher. But it's not enough. I twist my head back to face him, my hand moving to brush over his wrist.

“Harder,” I tell him through gritted teeth as I feel a hand slide over the base of my bump and sink south. “Aw, Ro... Fuck...”

His thumb rubs soft circles around my clit, moving closer and closer until I'm panting and begging. And then his arms are scooping under me, pulling me up right and I crash back against his chest.

“Fuck my dick, Lex,” he growls in my ear, a hand on my thigh, gripping firmly as the other seeks out my breast, finger and thumb working at my nipple until I'm fighting back the urge to cry from the onslaught he's currently inflicting on my body.

“Yes,” I manage to squeak out as he grabs my hand and pushes it between my legs. I let my fingers dip down, groaning as I feel his hard, slick length moving in and out of me at a fascinating speed. My back is sticking to his chest, sweat starting to cover my body in a thin sheen as he lets go of my breast and grabs roughly at my hair, pulling my head back so he can attack my neck.

It's fast and furious as we push and pull each other closer and closer. Words slip from his lips, spurring me on as he groans his appreciation for my pussy, my ass, my breasts. His hand slides over mine, pushing my fingers hard against my clit as I cry out, so fucking close to the edge.

And then I'm falling, tumbling into oblivion, my body freezing as another howl rips through me. He keeps thrusting hard, grunting against my neck, his teeth scraping against my skin as he holds me just so, until he starts to pulse inside me.

Still.

A hand on my bump. His lips on my shoulders. His hand dancing over mine, pulling it from my legs and up to his mouth where he kisses the tips of my fingers.

He grumbles softly when I finally pull away, turning to face him so I can kiss away his frown. But he lets me go, sighing as he sees the time and watches me rise on shaky legs and make my way to the bathroom.

When I return, the bed is empty, his shorts from last night gone from the floor as well. I dress and wind my hair up out of the way for the moment before heading downstairs. I can hear the low hum from the radio in the kitchen as I make my way through the lounge to grab my phone from my purse.

I pause at the mantlepiece, fighting the urge to look at the envelope. I take a step forward and then pause again, this time turning until my eyes are fixed on the scrawling handwriting.

Am I being selfish?

Is Roman right?

Would it make this easier if we knew?

I pull my eyes away, head for my purse, pull out my phone.

“Lex?” Roman calls out. “I made you pancakes.”

I grin, heading back past the mantlepiece.

It's only when I'm standing in the doorway of the kitchen that I realise that I'm holding the envelope in my hand.

“Lex?”

I look up, Roman's gaze flickering from my face to my hands.

“We... We don't tell anyone.”

His eyes widen. “No, Lex. You wanted to wait, you wanted–”

“We don't tell anyone,” I repeat, stepping forward, holding out the envelope. “Not Shiv, not Seth, not Becca, not Dean. Not even our parents. No-one.”

I press the envelope into his hands and he grasps it tightly.

“Lex–”

“Open it.”

“Are you–”

“I'm sure.”

His fingers tremble as he tears at the envelope. He holds my gaze as he draws out the slip of paper before lowering his eyes, a wide grin cracking his face in two.

“Boy or girl?” I whisper, but he doesn't answer me. He just hands me the slip of paper.

I stare at it, my brain barely recognising the letters that form the word. But slowly, it clicks into place and I can feel my own face breaking into a smile.

I look up and Roman is staring back at me, his eyes shining.

“Lex,” he breathes. “It's–”

“I know,” I tell him, as he pulls me into his arms. “I know.”

Fin x

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