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casuallyimagining · 6 months

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Set Me Free || myg

min yoongi x female reader

Summary: Tired of being told how to live his life and unsure of where he stands in the world, Yoongi--your soulmate--yearns to be free. When you give him what he wants, it causes a rift in your relationship that seems irreparable. 12 years later, you find him back in your life. Can you mend your relationship? Do you even want to? Word Count: 14,377 Genre: friends to enemies to lovers, supernatural au, witch & familiar au, soulmate au, angst, fluff Warnings: death of a parent (brief mention), alcohol, soulmate breakup, smooching

Notes: banner by @itaeewon. thank you to @daechwitatamic and @oddinary4bts for beta-ing and listening to me struggle my way through this. as always. and extra thanks to ella for helping me write Yoongi's letters and to my friend tanya for giving me a super helpful base for the ending.

It’s cold. The late autumn wind rustles through amber-brown-orange-yellow leaves, swirling the fallen ones into little tornadoes that scuttle across the pavement. The cold doesn’t bother Yoongi, necessarily. It’s been a while since he’s been here, in this town, on this street, but even after so much time, his body remembers the chill of November in the same way his feet remember the way to his destination. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets and pauses at the street corner.

It’s strange being back here. He’d once known this neighborhood so intimately, he could map it in his sleep. Not much has changed in the almost 13 years he’s been gone. The park on the corner is the same. The playground, massive to an eight-year-old with a near-infinite imagination, stands resolute, its plastic and paint sun-faded and weathered. Further up the block is the head of the trail that snakes its way through the forest, where he’d spent countless hours playing pirates as a kid and exploring as a teen. And there, at the end of the street, is his destination.

The closer he gets, the more his stomach roils with nerves. Thirteen years since he’d walked down this sidewalk. Thirteen years since he’d walked onto that front porch. Or rather, 12 years, 5 months, and 11 days.

But who’s counting?

There’s a light on in the front room of the house, he can see it through the big window despite the shades being pulled closed. He hesitates. He’s spent days–no, weeks–playing out in his head how this was going to go. In a moment, he’ll know if any of those scenarios were correct. And frankly, right now, he’s terrified.

What if you start to cry? What if you slam the door in his face? What if you hug him? What if you yell at him? What if you don’t answer? What if you want to talk? What if you never want to see him again? What if you invite him in? What if you have someone over?

He takes a deep breath and knocks.

It takes a second. He can hear shuffling around on the other side of the door, so he knows his knock was heard. But the longer it takes, the sweatier his hands get, and the more he considers turning and running away. The door opens before he can make a move.

You stand in the doorway, bathed in the warm light of the living room lamp behind you. And shit, Yoongi doesn’t know what to say. In many ways, you haven’t changed since the last time he saw you, but at the same time, you look so different. He can see in your eyes the moment the realization hits, and your expression changes drastically. You looked tired–and Yoongi can sense that it goes deeper than just physical exhaustion–and you were slouching, but now, you’re standing ramrod straight, and there’s a hard look in your eyes. One he knows all too well.

“Hey.” He raises a hand, offers a wave that, in hindsight, is rather pathetic. You stare at him, unblinking, and slowly, he lowers his hand. “I uh… I heard about your parents,” he says softly, scuffing his shoe against the wood of the porch. “I’m sorry you have to go through it.”

“Brave of you to show up.” You sound almost bored, but Yoongi knows–he senses, in that kind of primal, gut feeling he gets when it comes to you–that it’s an act. “You know I could turn you into a bug and squash you if I wanted to.”

“I know.”

There’s a tense moment where you stare at each other, the scowl you wear pulling your lips downward and creasing your brow. But then you heave an exhausted sigh.

“Why are you here, Yoongi?”

“I…”

I want to apologize.

I’m so sorry.

I miss you.

It all catches in his throat. He coughs in a meager attempt to entice something–anything–to come out of his mouth. “I wanted you to have this.”

He holds out his hands, and in an instant, he’s holding a box. It’s full but not heavy, and he thrusts it out in front of him in your direction.

“A 10-year-old shoebox?” You do nothing to mask your surprise.

“Letters,” he corrects. “You don’t have to read them but… I wanted you to have them.” He pushes the box into your arms, leaving you no choice but to take it. Then, he steps away and nods his head. “Thank you for not turning me into a bug. I am sorry about your parents. I… guess I’ll go.”

Without another word, he trots down the porch steps. And then, in a blink, he’s gone. Disappeared into the night.

You sigh and shut the door, the box he’d given you cradled in the crook of your arm. You don’t have the energy for this right now. Honestly, you aren’t sure that you’ll ever have the energy for it, but certainly not the day before your parents’ funeral.

Whoever had decided that witches and their familiars die together clearly never thought of the ones left behind.

You collapse onto the couch, placing the box beside you. This would be easier if you weren’t alone. It would be easier with Yoongi, your brain supplies less than helpfully. You curse yourself. You curse him. After all these years, you thought you were over it, over the abandonment, over the betrayal. But all it takes is for him to show his stupid face, and you can feel it all bubbling up anew. Angrily, you push the box off the couch. It explodes when it hits the floor, what seems like thousands of pieces of paper tumble out and scatter from the force.

The forest was almost silent as you stalked the trail. Not even the birds were happy that day. Twigs snapped under your feet. You weren’t even paying attention to where you were going, your feet carrying you along the path that you’d hiked countless times before. You needed to get away, to escape, to calm down. But you couldn’t, because what you were running away from was hot on your heels.

“Would you slow down?” You could hear the frustration in Yoongi’s voice as he followed you. You ignored him. “Goddamnit,” he breathed, picking up his pace. “Will you at least listen to me?”

Quite frankly, you didn’t care what he had to say in that moment.

“It wouldn’t be a permanent thing,” he continued. “I just… I don’t know. I need to do this.”

You stopped, sliding a little on the damp new growth below your feet. “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re not being oppressed, Yoongi. No one’s stopping you from going out and exploring the world.”

“Maybe this way of life isn’t for everyone. Maybe not everyone wants their whole existence to be predetermined at birth. Maybe not everyone wants the universe to choose who they’re supposed to be with and how they’re supposed to live.”

His words stung, and until then, you weren’t quite sure why. Rejection. Not just of how you lived, and who he was, and how things had always been. But of you. Yoongi was your familiar, you were destined to be together in some way since you were six years old and the bond gem first appeared. Not all witches and familiars were in romantic relationships–your parents were, sure, and Yoongi’s parents–but plenty of them had other partners, lives separate from each other. Platonic soulmates navigating the world together.

Until a few months before, you’d been content with that. There was no doubt you’d been best friends from the jump. You’d been practically inseparable through school. Then, months before, he’d kissed you at the winter market. Right there in the park, under the aurora. Before that, you hadn’t thought of him as any more than your best friend. But the kiss had unlocked something inside you. And now…

Now he wanted you gone.

“You want to be free that badly?” By some miracle, your voice sounded positively venomous, even though you felt like you could crumble at any moment. “Fine.”

“Wh-”

There’s a saying your mother told you once, back when you were a child. You and Yoongi had found a turtle in the woods, stuck in the mud. His little turtle leg had been hurt, and you’d rushed it to your mother immediately. Familiars were excellent with animals, and she was no exception, healing the turtle in days when it should have taken weeks. You and Yoongi had both cried when you had to release it back into the wild–you’d both so wanted it to be your friend. ‘If you love something, set it free,’ your mother had said, ‘Sometimes it’s the kindest option.’

Kinder for whom?

The chain around your wrist snapped easily when you wrapped your fingers around it. The incantation meant to keep the bond gem safe became meaningless as soon as you wanted it gone. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been without it around your wrist. You loved it, with its gem of swirling, inky black and navy blue. It reminded you so much of Yoongi, deep and calm and unwavering.

Without a word, you tossed the bracelet to the ground. Yoongi’s eyes widened as it hit and the gem cracked. For good measure, you stepped on it, crushed it into dust. There was a pitiful swirl of blue magic that puffed up from the dirt. When you moved your foot, there was nothing left of the bond gem or its chain.

“What the fuck?” Yoongi’s eyes were glassy when you finally looked at him. He looked almost as crushed as you felt. “What the fuck?”

“You’re free.” And this time, you couldn’t hide your sadness behind your anger.

He didn’t follow you as you walked away, and honestly, it was for the best. It was faint, but you could still feel his emotions, and you weren’t sure you could handle that kind of heartache in person.

There is paper everywhere. Hundreds of pieces, folded neatly in thirds. You have no idea how Yoongi had fit them all into the shoebox. He must’ve enchanted it. Groaning, you start to pick them up.

Letters, he’d said. You flip through some as you gather them up. Now that they’re on the floor, they aren’t in any particular order, but it quickly becomes clear that these letters span years. There are some from 12 years ago, written shortly after he’d left. Some are more recent. You stare at one, from December of the year he left. Glancing through it, you expect it to unearth your anger, your rage. But it doesn’t. Just like seeing him again, all Yoongi’s letter brings is sadness. Grief.

You’d spent the past 12 years grieving. Sure, he hadn’t died, but when he left, you’d lost the closest relationship you would ever have. In 17 years, you’d grown so accustomed to having him there, that when he was gone, there was a Yoongi-sized hole left in your life that you had to learn to fill. And you did your best, sewing yourself back together and moving on. But it wasn’t the same.

Glancing through his letter, it seems you weren’t the only one struggling. You aren’t sure if that’s a comfort or not.

It’s been almost a year since the night market–one year since everything started crumbling around us. I still remember it like it was yesterday. It felt right in the moment, didn’t it? I really thought you would understand.

I’ve tried to figure out where things went wrong. But shit, I can’t wrap my head around it. Why did you react like that when I told you I just wanted to be free?

At the end of the day, I guess we didn’t understand each other as much as I thought we did. As much as this bond brings us together, I guess it doesn’t reveal everything. But… that night I just wanted to kiss you, and so I did. Maybe it was selfish. Sometimes I wish the bond didn’t exist, that we could just be free to choose things for ourselves. That we weren't forced into what the universe wants from us… Maybe that’s selfish, too.

Why couldn’t you understand? I just wish I could turn back time and make you understand. Maybe then you wouldn’t hate me, and maybe then I’d stop hating myself too.

Because watching you destroy the gem nearly killed me, but it wasn’t half as bad as watching you walk away. Should I have run after you?

Would you still be there if I had?

You sigh and lean back against your couch. That damn night market. You hadn’t been back to it since the year he’d kissed you. It’s silly, but a part of you blames it for everything that happened. Because Yoongi’s letter is right. It had marked the beginning of everything going wrong. It wouldn’t change anything, but there’s a part of you that won’t listen to logic, that refuses to believe that maybe, if he hadn’t kissed you–if you hadn’t kissed him back–he wouldn’t have left.

The night market was beautiful. It always was, but that year was particularly beautiful. The park had been decorated in all of its sparkling, winter glory. Candles twinkled in the trees, suspended by sheer force of will. Through some magic you weren’t familiar with, they’d enchanted the sky, and an aurora shimmered far above, slowly swirling in greens and blues and purples. Snow fell gently, and you weren’t sure if it was natural, or if it was also magic.

You browsed the various tents and tables, going from one to the other to see the different things people were selling. Some had crafts, others baked goods, and some were even selling things like potion ingredients and spellbooks. There were a few tables dedicated to familiars–books on shifting and specialty items and insets and jewelry for bond gems.

Yoongi followed you closely, clutching a hot chocolate. You knew he wasn’t cold, the temperature was nowhere near low enough for either of you to be uncomfortable, but the way his fingers tapped against the paper cup, you knew something was up. You could sense his anxiety, could feel it in the pit of your own stomach.

“Want to go sit?” you asked softly, gesturing over to the picnic tables they’d set up under one of the sparkling trees.

His eyes widened. “No, that’s okay. You’re looking.”

“I’m done. Let’s go sit.”

“I-” He deflated a little and didn’t argue further, allowing you to lead him over to one of the tables.

You sat side by side on the bench, backs against the table, and watched the snow fall around you. The night was peaceful, quiet for the most part except for the occasional laughter that bubbled up. Most of the older crowd had left, leaving only the teens and young adults to explore the market. You watched the other festival goers in silence, Yoongi’s arm pressed against your own.

“You okay?” you asked softly, bumping your shoulder into his own.

Yoongi being quiet was nothing new. He was an observer, a listener, he took in information like a sponge. Which wasn’t to say that he was never loud and boisterous, that he didn’t talk incessantly to the people he cared about. But he was absolutely the calmest presence you’d ever been around, even compared to the adults in your life.

But you could sense what he was feeling, could feel his nerves and unease and conflict. And you knew that he’d rather explode than burden anyone with his feelings. So you prodded. Ever so gently. Because he was your best friend, and when he was suffering, you were too.

He stayed quiet, and when you turned to look at him, he was much closer than you were expecting. A moment passed. You shared a look. You’d always thought that Yoongi’s eyes were pretty, but in the twinkling light of the candles above, they were deep pools of warm, dark cedar and flecks of honey. Slowly, subtly, he leaned in–or maybe you did, you weren’t sure– as though some mysterious force was drawing you together. An emotion flashed in his eyes, but you couldn’t quite take the time to consider what it may have been because he was kissing you. Lips chapped from the bitter wind moulded against your own for the shortest of moments. It was tentative and delicate and brief, but as he pulled away, your mind reeled.

That day had affected you in ways you never would have expected. Before, you’d never considered Yoongi as anything more than your best friend, the platonic other half of yourself. And then the kiss, and suddenly, it was like you’d been awakened. For as long as you could remember, your thoughts had been filled with Yoongi. Of the things he liked, the things he didn’t, of spending time with him, of the academy (with him). Suddenly, you were suspecting that maybe there was more to that, more than just the bond of a witch and their familiar.

You sigh. The letters are all finally back in the box, though nowhere near as nicely as they’d been before you’d kicked it and it had exploded. You should get up. You should go to bed. You have to be up fairly early for the funeral. But you stay seated, the box of letters in your lap.

Seeing him again was hard. You’re willing to admit that. You’d spent 12 years convincing yourself that you were fine, harboring anger and resentment and frustration, all for it to melt away the second you saw him. The bond makes it tough to stay mad at him, but it doesn’t let you forget the betrayal.

You stand out of the way, looking out over the funeral attendees in the park. Your parents didn’t have a lot of friends, but there are enough people here that you’d officially call it a crowd. They’re all mingling–you’d bought beer and wine, and if you didn’t know any better, it could maybe be a party and not a wake. You tighten your fist around the bond gem in your hand. For as long as you could remember, your dad had worn it around his neck, tucked under his shirt. The gem is like your mother–bright pink, fiery orange, deep yellow–and when you were a child, you’d loved to look at it, mesmerized by the swirling, glittering colors.

The gems have always been a gift from a familiar to their witch, given to symbolize the soulmate-like bonds between them. Most witches–especially those who were romantically involved with their familiars–wear them as jewelry. They don’t really do anything, though some people claim it made their magic stronger (you aren’t really sure about that, seeing as most gems appear in childhood).

As a child, you hadn’t been particularly close with your parents. Especially as a teen, you would have much rather hung out with Yoongi than them. But they were kind, and supportive, and for the most part, they left you to do your own thing. They’d been almost as devastated as you when you’d crushed your bond gem.

Days after your fight with Yoongi, the doorbell rang. Your mother had opened the door. You were upstairs. You’d stayed home from school that day–sick, but not in the way the administrators would have accepted. For a few brief moments, you’d ignored whatever visitor was downstairs. But then-

“She’s not here.” Your mother’s voice drifted up to you. She sounded disappointed.

“Please.” It was Yoongi, you’d recognize his baritone from miles away.

Quietly, you’d slipped out of your room and crept down the hall, sitting at the top of the stairs. You could hear your mother sigh, could see her shift her weight from one foot to the other. Your father appeared from the kitchen and joined your mother at the door.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” he said, shaking his head. He leaned against the doorknob, pulling it a little more shut in the process so it blocked you completely from the door’s sight.

A long moment of silence passed before your mother called, “Yoongi?” You couldn’t hear his response–he must have already gone down the porch steps. Your mother continued, “It can be scary, and you’re both still young. Give it time.”

The door shut quietly, and both of your parents looked to where you were sitting. You could see it in both of their eyes. Sadness, but something else. Something that looked a little close to pity.

A laugh draws your attention, and you smile sadly as you watch your mother’s coworkers laugh at some memory. But then you notice, just behind them, a shadow close to the ground and suddenly, you’re distracted all over again. Because there, half-hidden by a bush, sits a black cat. Cedar and honey eyes watch you intently, its dark fur swirling and shining like a thousand galaxies. Your hand tightens around your parents’ bond gem, the chain pressing sharply into the flesh of your hand.

He doesn’t move, just sits there patiently. Watching. He’s there as people approach you, offering condolences and hugs that you don’t particularly want; he’s there when people start trickling out. And he’s there when you’re the last one left, all alone under the large oak tree in the center of the park.

It’s quiet as you stand there, staring down at the bond gem in your hands. This is the part you’ve been dreading. Because you don’t want to keep the damn thing–you could if you wanted to, but there’s also tradition to think about. But it’s also weird to give up the one thing that is so emblematic of your parents. You wonder if they’d felt like this when your grandparents had died.

At least they’d had each other during it.

You can sense him approach, even though his steps are completely silent. And though he comes closer, he keeps his distance. On one hand, you appreciate it. On the other…

“If you’re going to be here, the least you could do is be here,” you say quietly, looking down at the gem in your hand. It sparkles a little in the light.

Thankfully, he doesn’t ask you to explain. He takes a few slow steps forward until he’s standing beside you. It’s weird, having him this close again. You’d been too overwhelmed last night to actually observe, but now, you’re exhausted, yet alert.

His hair is longer–as a teen, he’d kept it short, but the ends curl and sit just above his shoulders now. He’s filled out and put on some muscle, and though he’s still a little on the lankier side, his shoulders have broadened. He wears cologne now, the scent light, like lavender, citrus, and sage. So much has changed, and yet it’s the same eyes that watch you with a soft curiosity.

You look up to the tree, watch its branches wave in the wind. You used to think that the centenarian boughs touched the sky, and even still, it towers above everything else in the park. The leaves sparkle, their iridescence catching the light to make the tree look like something out of a fairy tale. You sigh and tighten your fist around your parents’ bond gem one more time before opening your hand.

At first, nothing happens, but then the gem glistens and rises out of your grasp. It joins the other leaves close to the top of the tree, becoming just another sparkle in the prism.

For a while, not even the birds make a noise. You just stand there, looking up at the tree that has stood sentinel over most of your life. The wind rustles the leaves, and they shimmer as they move. You have no idea how many leaves are up there, how many bond gems have been placed over time. Thousands–maybe hundreds of thousands–of witches and their familiars, most forgotten to the annals of time.

It’s strange, knowing that you would never be memorialized by the tree.

“Let me buy you a coffee,” Yoongi whispers from beside you, husky baritone cutting through the silence.

Yoongi isn’t sure why you say yes, but soon enough, you’re walking into the Green Bean just behind him. He’s uncomfortable, people have been watching you since the park, and their stares are starting to burn holes in his back. He says nothing about it until you’re in line at the cafe.

“What are they staring at?” he whispers, leaning close so that only you can hear in the semi-busy cafe. He chooses to ignore how you tense up ever so slightly.

“You’ve been gone for 12 years, what did you expect?”

Right. He supposes he should have expected their animosity. But it’s not just him they’re watching. He doesn’t miss the way people stare at you, watch you warily as you simply exist. His mind races. Was that his fault? Did his absence cause so many unintended consequences?

You order a coffee and choose a table in the far corner of the cafe, away from everyone but still near the window. He sits in the chair across from you, the hard metal shockingly comfortable despite its harsh lines. An awkward silence settles over you both, but Yoongi’s not sure what to say, so he lets it linger. He watches you stare out the window. Which is a little weird, right? But he can’t bring himself to drag his gaze away. It’s like after 12 years of being away, he just wants to look at you.

The barista calls out your orders and Yoongi stands to grab both of them from the counter. He places one oversized ceramic mug down in front of you, and the other, he wraps his hands around. It’s warm, almost hot, and he dares not take a drink yet. You stare down at the foam on top of your drink, one finger hooked around the handle of the cup.

“What happened to them?” he asks softly. When you look up, surprised, he clarifies. “Your parents, I mean. I… didn’t hear how they…”

You sigh, tap your mug. He can sense the deep sadness you struggle with and is just about to tell you to forget he asked when you speak. “I always kind of thought it would be dad who’d go first.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. “He was always so frail when we were kids. But mom got sick last year and…” You shrug. “One of the neighbors found them.”

“I’m so sorry.” You wave him off. “No. Honestly. They were nice.”

“Thanks.”

He nods, and silence settles again. But then something you said pops into his mind, striking him as strange. “You aren’t living here anymore?” Mentally, he slaps himself. Why did it come out like he’s surprised? He supposes that he’s always just kind of pictured you still… here, in town.

“I’m over in Ashland,” you say, generally gesturing west, toward the city. “I work at the library at the university.”

“Yeah?” He raises his eyebrows. “How’s that?”

You shrug. “Mostly good. It’s a job. The library’s usually pretty quiet, so…”

“That’s really cool.”

Ashland is big, much bigger than here in square feet and at least 10 times the people. It’s a real city, with skyscrapers and functioning public transportation and one of the country’s top medical universities. He’s proud of you, he realizes. You’d always planned to leave for the city, too constrained by life in such a small town. For the longest time, he’d planned on going with you. And then, of course, he’d ruined it. It stings a little to know that you’d gone without him like that, that your life had continued as planned, that maybe he hadn’t meant that much in the grand scheme of things.

But then your eyes meet, and he’s confronted by the anxiety and sadness you’re feeling, and he knows he’s just being stupid. Again.

“So, uh…” He feels a wave of nerves wash over him–they aren’t his own. You tap your half-empty mug. “What have you been up to?”

If he’s honest, Yoongi wasn’t expecting you to ask about him. He’s shocked enough that you’d even agreed to be here, let alone that you were interested in his life. “I was traveling,” he starts cautiously, gauging your reaction. You blink slowly, watching his every move. If you can sense his apprehension, you don’t react. “But now I’m up north in Ulmae. I’ve got a pretty good thing going at this restaurant on the North Shore.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, uh…” He chuckles, a little nervous. “They’ve got me bartending on the weekends and let me do music during the week.”

Your eyes widen a little, and you lean forward. “They let you play?”

“It’s only like an hour a night-”

“No, shut up. That’s amazing!” You grin, big and genuine, but Yoongi can sense a tinge of sadness in it.

He’s disappointed when you both finish your coffees and you stand up to put your cup in the little tub by the counter. It’s starting to get late, the sun is starting to set and the streetlights have turned on. It was nice, catching up with you, short though it may have been. It’s not lost on him how strange it is, having to catch up with someone that was once practically a part of him.

Together, you stand outside in the chilly early evening air, looking down the street toward the park. Over the roofs of the shops and houses, Yoongi can just barely see the centinel tree with its sparkling leaves. People walk past–people he recognizes but couldn’t possibly name–some are more subtle about it, but others practically break their necks to stare at the two of you. Suddenly, Yoongi feels exposed outside the cafe, like there are eyes everywhere. He hates this, hates feeling like he’s doing something wrong just for wanting to talk to you more.

You sigh, scuff your shoe against the concrete of the sidewalk, shove your hands deep into the pockets of your dark jeans. “I… probably shouldn’t even ask,” you start warily. “But do you want to come back for a drink?”

The house is the same, yet somehow also different, like one of those spot the difference puzzles come to life. The layout of the living room is the same, but the couch is a different style and color. There’s a blanket folded the same way under the coffee table, but it’s clearly a different pattern than he remembers. Most of the photos are the same, but there are 12 years’ worth of more of them.

Apparently, the stash of alcohol your father kept in the built in cabinet beside the television hasn’t changed.

You pull out a bottle of whisky and two glasses, setting them on the coffee table with a gentle ‘clink.” The shoebox he’d given you sits on the floor. The lid is off, the letters contained within are a mess. Have you read them, or did they spill out? There’s no way for him to really know.

Silently, you hand him a glass and sit on the other side of the couch, grabbing one of the throw pillows to hug in your lap. You sip at the double in your glass stoically, and for a moment, you stare at him. He has to resist the urge to squirm under your gaze. There’s something different about how you’re sitting, something in your aura that he didn’t notice in the cafe. Maybe you’d been saving it for private, but he can sense that you’re reining your emotions in.

But then finally, after what feels like an eternity, you turn over your hand. Two pieces of paper sit in your palm. “I’m going to need you to explain these.” The two letters float over to him and open themselves in front of him.

The first is dated only a few years after he’d left.

I’ve been struck by a thought. I had tacos earlier, and I just know you would have loved them. Which made me realize that there’s still part of me that thinks about you at every turn. Your friendship was such an integral part of my life, and not having it anymore feels like there’s a piece missing. Last week it was a song on the radio. Before that, a stray cat I saw that I know for certain you would have loved. Everything reminds me of you, everything leads back to you. You’re everywhere and nowhere, and…

I would like to see you again. Someday.

How have you been doing? Where has your life taken you? I can only hope it’s treated you kindly. It’s what you deserve.

The other is from the day he turned 25.

A quarter of a century, and for some reason I feel incredibly old. With it comes some realizations, things I didn’t understand before. Maybe I was too young, too blinded by my own need to feel free… but it never was about being free from you. I can’t even begin to imagine how hurtful it must have been for you…

I never wanted to make you feel like I was giving up on you, like I didn’t want you. I never wanted to make you feel rejected, because it wasn’t you I was trying to be free from.

I was so scared of having my whole life laid out in front of me. I never took the time to think what my life could be with the bond–I only ever thought about what the bond meant for my life. All of the expectations, what comes with being a familiar, our roles in society and the universe…

I realize now that I could have–should have–communicated it all better. If only so that I wouldn’t have lost you. So that it wouldn’t have led to me making you feel like I was rejecting you. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered; at the end of the day I was still walking away from you. But at least maybe I could have made it more clear that it was never you that I wanted to be free from.

I’m sorry. I feel like it’s useless to say, but I am so sorry for not realizing any of this before.

Wherever you are, I hope you’ll understand. Take care until I see you again.

I hope I see you again.

Yoongi sighs. The letters–all of them, not just these two–tended to be rambling diatribes, a snapshot of his thoughts as he worked through his feelings about his own life and everything and you. He’d been an idiot when he left–he was 17 and full of himself and terrified of the world but too proud to admit it–and it had taken him far too long to realize a lot of important things.

For a moment, it’s quiet as he thinks of what to say. How should he even begin? But apparently, he’s quiet for too long, because you wave your hand and the letters fold themselves back up and float back down to the shoebox. When you speak, you sound exhausted. “Why are you here, Yoongi?”

“I-”

“Because if the roles were reversed, I don’t know that I’d have the balls to come back. On one hand, I’m impressed. On the other…” You trail off and shrug.

He’s quiet, not sure how to respond. He’s got lots of thoughts, lots of feelings–of course he does–but right now, you’re a wall, and he’s not sure how to read the situation. He’s not sure what you need to hear right now. So he says nothing.

You laugh, but there’s no humor in it, and you look down at the glass in your hand, stare into the dregs of the amber whisky you’ve nearly finished. “I’m running on like two hours’ sleep,” you admit. “But fuck, Yoongi, I… I was so convinced that I’d never see you again. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.” Then, softer. “I’m still not sure.”

“Why?” It’s out of his mouth before he can even think and god, he just wants the Earth to open up and swallow him whole.

It takes a second for you to process his absolute trash heap of an asinine question. But when you do, your face contorts into somewhere between anger, disappointment, and heartbreak. “What do you mean, ‘why’?” You practically spit the question at him. “You… you… Do you know what it’s like to have the most important person in your life tell you that he wants rid of you?”

“I never said-”

“You wanted to be free. From all of it. From me.” You pick at the corner of the pillow in your lap. “And then you just come back out of the blue like nothing happened and drop this damn shoebox at my feet-” from where it sits on the floor, the shoebox explodes, letters flying everywhere, “-and you just… What did you expect, Yoongi? What do you want?”

“I don’t know!” He sounds a little desperate when he says it, and he hates that, hates how pathetic it makes him sound. So he shrugs, takes a deep breath, leans back a little. “I don’t know,” he repeats. “I just… I missed you. And then mom told me about your parents, and…” He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back off his forehead and out of his eyes. “And then I was on a train.”

You stare at him for a moment, a little gobsmacked. You have no idea how to respond. What do you say to that? Where do you even start? There are a hundred things you could say. You’ve played this scenario out a thousand times in your head over the years–what would you do if he came back?–but somehow, it never played out like this. In your mind, he’d never told you that he missed you.

You’d never considered that he would miss you.

But you should say something, right? It’s weird that you’re sitting there, just staring at him in complete silence. Has your jaw been clenched the whole time? Does he think you’re angry with him? Quickly, you school your face into something a little more neutral and say the first thing that comes to mind.

“How long are you here for?”

Truthfully, you probably should have asked sooner. You’ve been wondering since he showed up on your doorstep last night, but it never seemed like a great time to ask.

He sighs. “‘Till tomorrow.”

You nod, probably longer than it makes sense to, but it takes you a bit to process. Tomorrow. He’s back in your life for two days, and then he’s gone again. That’s not even enough time to catch up, let alone actually talk with him. And that’s… you aren’t sure how to feel.

Yoongi watches you quietly and takes a sip of his drink. He’s barely touched it. “Maybe…” he says after a moment, leaning forward to put his glass on the coffee table. “Maybe I should go?”

Part of you wants to tell him no, to ask him to stay, to tell you more about his gig working at the bar. Anything to keep him here and talking to you. But there’s a more logical part of you that’s overwhelmed, that needs some time to think. He’s offering to go, which means that he’s either uncomfortable or his train leaves early in the morning. Or both. He stands, thanks you for the drink, and you follow him to the door. He hesitates just outside, opens his mouth as if to say something and closes it almost as quickly.

You say nothing. And for the second time in as many days, you watch him leave without another word.

The playground was almost empty. Mama said it was supposed to rain, but she’d also said that you would go anyway, for a little bit. You were trying to learn how to swing on your own, and plus Yoongi and his mom were going to be there, and he’d said he’d bring his trucks to play in the sand.

But he wasn’t there yet, so you were on the swing. Mama pushed you, her hand firm on your back, and you closed your eyes. You were flying, wind in your face as you launched forward into the air. And then, just as suddenly, you were falling, swinging backward.

“Remember what I said,” mama said softly. “Kick your legs.”

You weren’t quite sure what she meant by that. Your legs were little, and when you kicked out, you felt more like you were going to slide out of the swing seat than anything. You heard her laugh a little, but her hand was on your back once again, propelling you forward.

A few minutes passed in a blur of forwards and backwards. You still didn’t quite understand the whole swinging on your own thing, but mama’s rhythmic pushes kept you going. But then, a small voice at the edge of the playground yelled your name, and you heard excited footsteps in the wood chips. Mama helped you slow to a stop, and you jumped off the swing.

A little boy, his dark hair cut short by his own mom, ran toward you. He was carrying an armful of small cars and larger trucks. He skidded to a stop in front of you, a wide, gummy grin engulfing his face and crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“I brought all my trucks!” he announced, looking down at the toys in his arms. “You can be the green one. Here.” He tried to hand it to you, and another fell in the process.

You picked it up and took the green truck from him. It was bright green–the same shade as the lime popsicles Yoongi’s mom usually bought–and it had big wheels. You followed him to the sandbox and you both plopped down. It didn’t take long to have a whole city constructed. Granted, it was all made from rocks and wood chips and other small things you found around the sandbox. But it was a city and it was beautiful.

Yoongi drove his truck over a bump, making engine noises as he pushed it toward you. As he drove the truck down another sand hill, bumping and bouncing it over sticks and rocks, something fell out of the sleeve of his jacket. It was perfectly round, and it rolled to a stop in front of you. You picked it up and inspected it. It was some kind of rock, hard and shiny, but it was also colorful, and you were pretty sure rocks couldn’t be blue.

One look at the rock and he frowned, calling for his mom. She came over immediately and crouched down to see what he was so concerned about. Your mama followed her, and she was the one that saw the rock in your hand first.

“Oh,” she said, her hand gently smoothing down your hair. “You two have found your gem.”

“Wha’s that mean?” Yoongi asked, looking up at his mom.

She smiled and sat in the sand beside him, pulling him into her lap. She held out her arm, twisted her bracelet around so that he could see it. “You know how I have this from your dad? It’s like that.”

“But-”

“Your friendship is special,” she continued, pinching his cheek. Yoongi laughed. “It means you’ve gotta look out for each other now.”

For a moment, he was quiet. But then he nodded, just once. “Okay!” He held out his hand to you, tiny palm face up. “Can I have it?”

“It’s not yours anymore,” his mom said softly, brushing his short hair back. “It’s a gift.”

You looked to your mama and she nodded. “Take care of it,” she told you. “You only get one.”

Middle school was the worst. Everything was difficult. Social situations, interactions with your parents, school. At the time, it all seemed like it was unfairly hard. Making it worse, of course, was getting sick. As a kid, you were never sick that often. Yoongi was a different story. For whatever reason, familiars were just more susceptible to illness, and when he got sick, he got sick.

It was the middle of the semester, and Yoongi hadn’t been to school in days. Your teachers hadn’t even asked, they’d just started giving you packets–homework and printouts of their lessons and extra materials–so he wouldn’t fall behind. So you stopped by his house after school. His mom let you in, offering you some of the snacks she was making for Yoongi before you headed up the stairs to his room.

You knocked gently before entering. The knock was a politeness–you were close enough with him and familiar enough with his room at this point in your life that you could just barge in without warning and you knew he wouldn’t mind. He looked like hell, stuck in his bed buried in blankets. It was clear he’d had a fever at some point, because his hair looked damp and sweaty.

But he sat up when you walked in, coughing deeply before speaking. “You’re going to get sick, too,” he protested weakly.

You waved him off. “Everyone’s sick.” You pulled over his desk chair to the side of his bed and started to go through your bag. “Ms. Miller gave me your math homework, but if you understand it, you’ll have to explain it to me because I have no idea what she’s talking about.” He giggled at that, gummy smile soon hidden by his hand as he coughed. “Here’s the novel for Brown’s class. She said she’d talk to you about making up the paper when you’re back.”

It took a surprisingly long time to go through eight classes’ worth of homework and assignments, but you’d put sticky notes at the front of each packet explaining things, too, so the fact that he was half-asleep for most of your explanation didn’t really matter.

“Will you stay?” he asked when you were done. “Help me with some of this?”

“What happened to not wanting me to get sick?” you teased.

“I mean, you don’t have to. If you want to go home, that’s fine, too. I just-” He coughed, burying his face in his blankets.

“You staying for dinner, hon?” Yoongi’s mom called from the bottom of the stairs.

“Yes please!” you responded, shuffling through the stack of packets you’d brought for Yoongi. “Wanna take a stab at math?”

Halfway through the fall of your senior year, Yoongi started to get… weird. Cagey. Like he was trying to hide something and figure out particle physics at the same time. You’d tried asking him about it a few times, only for him to wave you off with a quiet “just thinking about some things.” After that, he’d be back to normal for a few days. But every time, like clockwork, he would fall back into it.

Finally, on the third day of the new year, he pulled you aside. Tucked back into the dormant foliage of the park, away from prying eyes, he stood, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He was nervous, you could feel it deep inside you, but to be honest, you didn’t really need your bond to tell you what was plain to see.

“I…” He trailed off, unsure of how to continue. His brows furrowed in thought, and after a moment, he motioned for you to sit. “I need to tell you something.”

“Okay?” You sat on the edge of a big rock, confused.

“I…” he started again, sitting beside you. You could feel a spike of nerves, and he took a breath to steady himself. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I think… fuck, this is harder than I thought it would be.”

“You can just say it,” you told him. “It’s just me.”

He nodded and mumbled something that sounded a lot like ‘that’s the problem,’ but after a moment, he continued. “I need to be free of all of this.”

“What?”

“Haven’t you ever thought that maybe the universe doesn’t know what it’s talking about? That maybe you’d be happier if you chose things for yourself?” He frowned. “There’s rules for gifts. We’re only good at certain types of magic because of how we were born. We have to celebrate holidays certain ways, we have to do specific things on our birthdays-”

“-and we get told who we’re to bond to.”

He recoiled at your words. “That’s not-”

“But it’s true, right?” Your gaze fell from him to your hands. “It’s just one more thing you don’t get to control.”

Yoongi sighed. “I just… want to be able to choose for myself.”

Suddenly, you were sick to your stomach. This was the last thing you’d expected. You didn’t particularly like all of the traditions, either, but you were 17. What the hell were you going to do about it? But this felt like he was saying he didn’t want you. You hadn’t yet talked about the kiss at the night market a few weeks prior, but you’d never guessed that he’d do such a sudden about-face.

“Right,” you said softly.

“Just… think about it?” he asked, dark eyes pleading.

You didn’t like where this was going, didn’t like how it made you feel. But you nodded anyway. Maybe he would change his mind.

Days gave way to weeks and months, and before you knew it, spring had come. Yoongi hadn’t changed his mind. If anything, he’d gotten more insistent.

“I want to find myself,” he’d told you once. “I need to make sure this is how I want to live my life.”

“I just need to get away,” he’d said one day while you were doing homework together. “Start fresh somewhere new.”

And then, on the way home from school one day, he’d said, “I need to be free of it all.”

And you’d snapped. Three months of hearing him talk about it, three months of him basically saying that your entire way of life was wrong and that he was chafing to get away. You couldn’t help it.

“Fuck off,” you’d told him, taking the trail behind the houses at a faster pace. Despite being so attuned with nature thanks to his familiar genes, he’d had trouble keeping up with you.

He’d pushed. And eventually, you’d given in. Because despite everything, you’d loved him, and if he was unhappy, you wanted to fix that. And now…

Now you’re sitting alone at the train station at ass o’clock in the morning. The train station has just barely opened, and already you’re inside, clutching a cup of coffee. There are a few other people here, milling around, waiting for their early trains to god knows where. You can feel them watching you, can feel them trying to make it subtle that they’re staring. At this point, you’re used to it. Word travels fast in small towns, especially when that word is as earth-shattering as a broken bond gem and a falling out between a witch and their familiar.

You try to ignore them, focus on your coffee and the posters across the waiting area from you.

Report any unattended or suspicious luggage to National Rail personnel.

Bags larger than this poster must be checked into the train’s luggage car.

Please remain seated until your train is announced and National Rail personnel give authorization to enter the platform.

You scroll through the news on your phone. Read the posters again. Stare out the window at the coffee shop across the street. And wait. A train arrives, and the couple that had been staring at you leaves. You sigh and stand to throw out your now empty cup.

Just as you do, the door to the train station opens. You turn to look, and there stands Yoongi. He’s wearing a black shirt, a bag slung across his body. His hair is pushed back off his face and he’s wearing his glasses. He’s clutching an absolutely massive travel mug and his phone in one hand, the other rolls a small suitcase behind him. He looks sleepy, but the second his dark eyes land on you, he jolts a little, as if electrocuted into being awake and alert.

“Hey,” he says cautiously, approaching you.

“Hey.” You wave slightly–awkwardly.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is soft, still a little gruff from sleep. You get the sense that maybe he hasn’t said much of anything to anyone this morning.

You sigh and gesture for him to follow you to a bench. The next train–his, you presume–isn’t due for another 20 minutes. You have time, but not much.

“I didn’t like how we left things,” you admit. “I… I wasn't sure if you were serious.”

“Serious?” His head falls to the side slightly, confused. But then, it seems, he understands, and he nods. “I did miss you–I do. I spent the entire ride here thinking about how seeing you again was going to go.”

“Were you right?”

He chuckles. “Not exactly.”

You hum and nod, and for the briefest of moments, silence settles over you. The stationmaster types away at his computer, the clacking of the keyboard the only sound in the entire station. But then you force yourself to say something that’s been on your mind since he showed up on your doorstep two days ago.

“It’s been good seeing you again,” you say, and even though you mean it, you can’t bring yourself to look at him. “I… think in a way, after so long, I made you the villain in my head. It’s good to see that you’re… not that.”

“I am sorry,” he whispers. “That was the worst thing I have ever done, and I just…”

“I get it.”

“What?”

“I think I kind of always did, but… it just hurt too much to think that you were including me in everything that you wanted to get away from, and I just-”

“You were the last thing I wanted to get away from.” Maybe it’s the waver in his voice, maybe it’s the way he ducks his head to make sure he makes eye contact, but you believe him. He sits his mug down on the bench beside him and gathers your hands in his. “I was so fucking dumb. I would have taken you with me in a heartbeat, but god I was too stupid and selfish to take ten minutes to think.”

“I thought maybe I’d done something,” you admit quietly. “I thought that maybe after the night market-”

“No! Oh my god, no,” he exclaims, his hands tightening around your own. “You’re my best friend! I lo-”

“Train 49–the Northern Limited–will be arriving on the platform in five minutes,” the stationmaster announces, not even bothering to use the building’s intercom. “I’ll take you over to the platform when you’re ready.”

Yoongi groans.

“Here.” You pull your hands away from him and immediately miss the warmth of him. But you reach into your pocket, unlocking your phone and shoving it into his hands in one motion. “Put your number in.”

For a moment, he stares at you, dumbfounded. But then the stationmaster opens the door to his office, and the noise jolts Yoongi into action. He types quickly and hands you your phone. You don’t even look at it, just lock it and shove it into your pocket. He hands you his phone and you enter your own contact information before giving it back.

You stand at the same time, and for one brief, quiet moment, you worry that maybe he’s just going to leave it at that. But then he rubs the back of his neck and glances toward the stationmaster.

“I’ll text you,” he promises.

You nod, almost mechanically. You weren’t expecting it to hurt this much to see him leave again. As he turns to gather his things, something comes over you.

“I- Can we-” You sigh, take a deep breath. “Can I have a hug?”

He makes a noise somewhere between a hum and a squeak, and it takes almost no time for the pink to start blossoming on his cheeks. He sputters for a second, and you can feel his shock. But then he opens his arms, and you find yourself taking a small step forward.

It’s shockingly easy to fall back into him, to step into his arms. He’s warm, and solid, but still also somehow soft. His cologne lingers on his clothes, all lavender-y and citrus-y and sage-y. Your arms fit around his waist, and for a moment, you let yourself pretend that this is normal, that nothing ever happened and that he isn’t leaving. But you hear the train horn in the distance and you pull away. You kiss his cheek as you part, and his eyes go wide in shock.

“Text me,” you tell him firmly, reaching down to grab his coffee mug and hand it to him.

“I will. I promise.”

And with one last, fleeting look, he steps onto the elevator with the stationmaster to go over to the platform.

You stand outside the station long after the train departs, feeling very much like you did when he’d left the first time. You should be feeling optimistic–for the first time in a long time, you feel like maybe there’s hope. For you, for your friendship, for… whatever comes next. But it’s hard to feel any sort of positive when he’s on a train back to a city seven hours away, and you have to go home in the exact opposite direction in a few short days.

As you’re walking back to your car in the lot down the street, your phone dings. When you unlock it, you get the sudden feeling that you’re flying, like a horde of butterflies have erupted within you. It’s nerves and it’s excitement and maybe, it’s also a little bit of hope.

Yoongi 💙: thanks again for not turning me into a bug

“I’ve been thinking,” Yoongi says one late night, his deep, sleep-deprived voice distorted ever so slightly by the distance and the speakers of your phone. You can barely see him–there’s a dim light that just slightly illuminates his face, but the rest of the room is dark.

“Dangerous,” you joke.

“Rude.” He nuzzles down further into his pillow. “I’d like to come visit,” he admits softly.

For a moment, your mind goes blank. There’s a fluttering in your stomach, hundreds of butterflies trying to escape at once. He’d kept his word after the train station, texting and calling you frequently over the past couple weeks. You’d text throughout the week–little messages about bad days and delicious lunches and cute dogs–and then on the weekends, one of you would inevitably end up calling each other. You’d spend hours on the phone, sometimes talking, sometimes just existing in the silence between you.

The video calls were a recent development. Since they began, you’d watched him cook dinner, he’d played piano while you worked on a spreadsheet for work, and one early morning, he’d called you on his way home after bartending so he wouldn’t fall asleep on the train.

“What do you mean?” You laugh a little. Maybe it was a little obvious what he meant, but you wanted to hear him say it.

He groans a little, stretches one arm up before covering his eyes with it. He peeks out at you through the cook in his elbow, one singular, dark eye sparkling, even in the poor quality of the video. “I miss you,” he mumbles, and you almost don’t catch it, it’s so muffled by his arm and your phone’s speaker.

You hum. The butterflies in your stomach make themselves known again. “I guess you could come.”

“I don’t have to if you don’t want me to.”

“Hey now. It’s against the rules to take something like that back.”

He laughs. “What rules?”

“You know. The rules.” You gesture vaguely before pulling your blanket up a little further on your body. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the rules?” He grunts. “Being away for so long has rotted your brain, I’m afraid.”

“So rude.” His arm is still obscuring his face slightly, but you can see his big, gummy smile as he laughs. “No, but seriously. Are you busy next weekend?”

You frown. You’d been trying to forget about next weekend. “Normally I’d go home for the new year,” you say softly.

“Why don’t,” he begins, stifling a yawn. You’re a little surprised he’s made it this long without seeming tired. It’s almost 3am. “Why don’t I come hang out? We can do new year’s stuff together.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course.”

“What about work?”

He shifts, the arm that was over his face now supporting his head under his pillow. “I make the schedule. They’ll deal with it.”

“Yoongi.”

He continues on, ignoring you. “I can work the day shift and get a train right after work on Friday, but I wouldn’t get there until late, is that okay?”

You sigh. It would be nice to not spend the holiday alone. And it would be nice to see him again. Sure, you’ve been talking to him in one way or another, but it’s different than having him in person. You finally agree, and he shoots you a smug, sleepy smile.

The week passes at a glacial pace. Work is slow because of the break in classes for the upcoming holiday, and spending time in an empty library is infinitely less entertaining than you’d expect it to be. Most of your coworkers have taken off, so you’re mostly alone with your thoughts. You fill the time with paperwork, completing literature loan requests for the University’s faculty and doing intake for the newly released journals the library has subscriptions for.

In the small handful of weeks since you’d seen him last, you’d replayed things in your mind. But mostly, you’ve been stuck on how nice it is to have him in your life again. You aren’t fooling yourself. You haven’t forgotten. But there’s a part of you–a large part, if you’re honest with yourself–that hopes that this is a step forward, that you can be close again. Maybe not how you were, but something that resembles a friendship.

After an eternity, it’s Friday. You sit outside of the train station in your car, parked in one of the pick up spots just outside of the main door. The trickle of people into and out of the station has slowed significantly now that it’s dark out–you’ve never seen it this dead. It’s late, the station is getting ready to close, but there’s one last train that has yet to come in. There’s another car parked a few spaces to your left, and you wonder briefly about who they’re waiting to pick up, but it’s fleeting.

The door to the station opens automatically, and out steps Yoongi. He rolls a suitcase beside him, a messenger bag slung across his body, his other hand shoved deep into his hoodie pocket. He looks around, confused, his gaze going back and forth between your car and the one to your left. You turn on the dome light and wave and he nods.

He gives you a quick greeting as he opens the back door, shoving his bags in the back seat. When he finally climbs into the passenger seat, he sighs deeply, resting his head against the headrest for a moment before turning to you.

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Hey. How was the train?”

He groans. “Long.”

You hum. He’d worked a short, early shift so he could catch the last train from Ulmae to Ashland. He looks and sounds exhausted. But he’s here. He’s not a face on a screen, he’s in your car. You resist the urge to reach out and touch him. It’s strange. You’d been without him for nearly 13 years. It’s only been a few short weeks since you’d seen him last, but you’re giddy, practically bursting with excitement at the fact that, for the next two and a half days, he’s here. With you.

You drive in relative silence, willing the lights to be green more for Yoongi’s sake than your own. The radio plays a soft hip-hop song, and you vaguely recognize it as one of the bands he’d been obsessed with in high school, but you don’t turn it up. You’re fairly certain that he’s fallen asleep, his head lolled slightly to the side so that he’s facing the window.

It’s a damn miracle that there’s an open spot in front of your building, but you gladly take it. There are people in your building who don’t know how to parallel park—who refuse to do it—but you’d taught yourself just for instances like this. For a moment, you think you’re going to have to wake Yoongi up, but just as you cut the engine, he unbuckles his seat belt and stretches.

Your apartment isn’t large, but it’s bigger than most for what you pay for it. You’re on the seventh floor, the top floor of the building, and your bedroom has a lovely view of the building beside you. But if you lean a little to one side and press your face up against the glass, you can see out into the city beyond, and the university campus in the far distance.

He sits his bags down in your living room and plops down on the couch. You’ve already set out some blankets and a couple pillows for him. The clock on your microwave says 11:05.

“You’re probably exhausted,” you say. “I’ll let you get settled.”

Immediately, he picks his head up from the back cushion of the couch. “’m not tired.” Ever defiant. But you can tell he’s lying. You can see it in his eyes how groggy he is. Normally, he’s up much later than this–you know, because sometimes, he calls you–but between working an early shift and the six-hour train ride, you don’t blame him for being a little sleepy.

“I put some towels out in the bathroom,” you tell him, gesturing down the hall. “It’s the door on the left. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thanks.”

And with that, you leave him there in your living room. You can hear him unzipping his bag as you retreat into your room.

An hour later, you find that you can’t sleep. Not that you’ve even tried. You aren’t even sure why you’re so wired. But you’re sitting in your bed, legs covered by a sheet, in the dim light of your bedside lamp. You’ve had friends stay over before. But this… you feel like you did as a kid, having your first sleepover. Except back then you were wired on soda and sugary snacks and it was a treat to stay up late. Now, you’re just…

You hear the bathroom door open and shut, and after a moment, Yoongi stands in the doorway to your room.

“You have the softest towels in the world,” he says, hair hanging in damp strands in front of his eyes. He pats and scrunches it dry with one of the fluffy grey towels you’d set out for him.

“Would you believe I got them on clearance?”

“I’ll just have to stuff one in my bag, then.”

“I charge a 5% fee for any towels that leave the premises.”

At that, he laughs, a groggy, squeaky sound that shakes his shoulders and crinkles his eyes and leaves a wide, gummy smile in its wake.

“So… what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“I haven’t really thought about it.” He shoots you a look that says he doesn’t believe you, and you relent. “Well,” you pat the bed beside you, inviting him to sit, “There’s this thing every year in the park to watch the meteors,” you say as Yoongi eases himself onto the mattress. “But it doesn’t start until late.” He hums. “Was there something you wanted to do?”

“No, just-” He stifles a yawn. “Curious.” He leans back against the headboard, settling in.

Just like that, you fall easily into conversation. It’s comfortable, calm. Just two old friends chatting. He likes your apartment, thinks the tile in your bathroom is really nice. He asks about your job, nods along as you tell him about working in the library and your coworkers.

And slowly, his reactions become slower, delayed, until he finally doesn’t respond at all. You look over, and his chin is tucked against his chest, his breathing gentle. Asleep.

For a moment, you consider going out to the couch. It would be weird, right, to stay here with him? But as you’re about to kick the blanket off, you pause.

We’re adults. Adults can share a bed. It doesn’t have to mean anything. You’re mature enough to let this just be two people sleeping in the same space.

At least, you think you are.

But as you settle in yourself, snuggling down into your blankets and turning off the light, you’re suddenly faced with the quiet peacefulness of his face. He’d always been handsome, and now that you’re both older, you can appreciate just how beautiful he really is. He sighs and slides down a little, his hand brushing against your arm as he gets more comfortable.

Oh no.

You sit on the floor of your living room, a box of pizza on the coffee table that you’ve shoved out of the way. Yoongi’s beside you, your backs against the couch as you watch some anime he’d been trying to convince you to watch back in high school. You’re three episodes in, and you don’t have the heart to tell him that you don’t really care for the basketball-themed show. Part of you is still afraid that if you say something wrong, he’ll be gone again.

His arm rests casually behind you on the cushions, far enough away that it’s more a comfortable way to sit than any sort of advance, but that doesn’t stop the smallest of butterflies from making itself known in your stomach. This Yoongi is so different from the Yoongi you knew—the one who, as a kid, got excited by construction equipment and the concept of ice cream, and as a teen spent his free time hiding from his parents, playing the piano and hanging out with you (though neither were mutually exclusive). He’s quiet, comfortable in the silence, comfortable with letting things linger.

You’re a little jealous of it, to be honest.

Yoongi leans forward slightly, and a piece of pizza meets him halfway, floating gently into his grasp. “Do you remember,” he begins, settling back in against the couch, “when we were 16 and we went camping?” You hum an affirmative. “We spent most of the week playing old board games with my parents.”

You smile at the memory. If anyone had asked back then, you would have told them it was lame that you’d had to spend the whole time with Yoongi’s parents. But now? That was one of the more fun summers you’d ever had. “What made you think of that?”

He shrugs, mouth full of pizza. “I dunno. But I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently. Things were so much simpler then…”

You nod and hum softly, but ultimately, you say nothing. Much simpler indeed.

“You know,” Yoongi begins, zipping his coat up to his chin, “when you said ‘park’, I was kind of expecting it to be in the city.”

“I think technically it is.” You lock your car and meet him at the front of it.

“We drove for an hour!”

You shrug. “Big city.”

He laughs and shakes his head, incredulous. He can’t tell if you’re being serious or not, but there was a sign on the way in with the university logo on it, so he supposes that whether it’s part of the city or not, it doesn’t really matter. There’s a well-lit trail that runs from the shale parking lot up a hill slightly to a clearing that overlooks the city and the rest of the park. It’s busy–people mill about around the parking lot, and he can see a steady stream of visitors on the trail up to the clearing.

He adjusts his coat–it’s cold, and both his shoulder and his senses ache with the impending snow–and when he’s ready, the two of you start walking toward the trail. It’s astonishingly busy, and as you weave your way through the crowd, leading him up the hill, he grabs your hand.

So we don’t get separated, he tells himself. For a moment, he expects you to pull away. Not maliciously, he’s not expecting you to scoff and throw his hand away. But what he isn’t expecting is for you to tighten your grip on him and tug him this way and that as you get closer to the clearing. His hand is warm where your skin touches his, like he’s holding a candle a little too close to the flame.

The clearing is massive, mostly flat but not entirely, with gentle rolling slopes that provide some extra elevation here and there. On one of the little hills, a few food trucks are set up, though how they got there, Yoongi isn’t really sure. Someone must have magicked them through the path or up the hill or something. There are picnic tables scattered around, mostly near the food trucks, but throughout the clearing, as well. Towards the edge of the clearing, there’s a cliff with an overlook that has a spectacular view of the city vista below. People are everywhere. Of course, there are a lot of college-aged kids hanging out in big and small groups. But there’s also a shocking amount of people that are Yoongi’s age and older–professors, he assumes, and university staff here to enjoy the evening. Almost all of them are holding drinks, and just about every one of them seems to be paired with someone.

It’s subtle sometimes, seeing bonded witches and familiars. Of course, the ones who are romantically involved tend to be more obvious, but the ones that are just friends are just as easy to spot once you know what to look for. It’s the people who stand so close together they’re almost touching, the ones who lean in a little extra close to whisper something. And the clearing is full of pairs standing in each other’s personal spaces.

You tug on his hand to direct him off to the left and he blindly follows, squeezing your fingers ever so gently as a response.

There’s a pair of people at one of the tables by the food trucks. They spot you almost immediately, and one of them stands to greet you. He’s a little taller than you are, made even more obvious when he gives you an awkward, one-armed hug over the picnic table’s bench. The other one–a woman–remains seated, eyeing Yoongi.

For a hot minute, it’s weird, as he stands there in silence while you chat with the man and woman. It’s not even the side-eye that the woman’s shooting him. The man is handsome–Yoongi’s not blind–and you are friendly with him. But there’s a moment, the briefest of moments, where you gesture somewhere off to your left. And when your body moves, Yoongi’s arm moves, too, and a little part of him, a silly, childish, hopeful part, soars.

You’re still holding his hand.

Eventually, you introduce him to the two. Alice works the reference desk in your library while she’s doing a doctorate program in linguistics. Her partner is gone in the winter, fighting fires in the far south. Despite her harsh side-eye, she greets Yoongi with a smile and a polite handshake. Jihwan, on the other hand, is the head baseball coach at the university. How the two of you met, Yoongi can only guess, but you make no mention of Jihwan’s partner, and Yoongi doesn’t see a gem anywhere. He almost–almost–starts to feel bad for the guy, but then he opens his mouth.

You ask a simple question, gesturing with your head to the food trucks. “What do they have good?”

“The pierogi guy from last year is back-”

Jihwan interrupts Alice. “Too much butter.”

It’s not even what he says. It’s how he says it. Like you and Alice are toddlers, like you can’t be trusted not to drown yourselves in carbs. But you roll your eyes and Alice scoffs playfully, and Yoongi realizes that this is not the first time Jihwan has done something like this. And suddenly, Yoongi hates this guy.

“Apparently, he’s got a new flavor this year,” Alice says, continuing like Jihwan never interrupted. “But the taco guy is also back-”

“Is the popcorn guy back?” you ask. laughing. “Because I kind of want a front-row seat to that.” Yoongi must look confused, because you explain. “Pierogi guy’s daughter was engaged to taco guy’s daughter. But last year, pierogi guy and taco guy just started yelling at each other-”

“-It was amazing,” Alice adds.

“It was ridiculous,” Jihwan mumbles.

You push him. “It was a little like having our own little telenovela here.”

Cautiously, Yoongi asks, “Why were they fighting?”

“No one knows.” You shrug. “But it launched a campus-wide food war. Everyone was choosing sides. It was like the year the Moondance tried to change its logo.”

Jihwan and Alice look at you, a little confused. But Yoongi knows exactly what you’re talking about. Somewhere around when you were preteens, the owners of the Moondance diner decided that its logo was outdated and wanted to update it. The whole town had been in an uproar, whole neighborhoods entering into a Cold War-esque stand-off over their preferences. People who had been friends for 50 years were suddenly in an unsolvable, unending argument. All over a color palette swap and a slightly newer font. Yoongi hadn’t cared much one way or the other–all businesses change their logos at some point, right?–and he always suspected that you didn’t either, but you’d both gotten swept up in the chaos of it all. It was stupid, ridiculous fun, and he’s pretty sure that his parents still have the buttons you’d made somewhere in their house.

You finally let go of Yoongi’s hand when you’re standing in line at the taco truck, and he’s painfully aware of how empty it feels now. You don’t go far, though, standing close enough that your elbow brushes against his every once in a while. You’re scrolling through your phone, reading some news article to pass the time. It’s gotten darker since you’ve been there, and looking up, he can just barely make out a couple pinpricks of stars in the sky. The clearing is fairly bright, with little flickering balls of light criss-crossing the space like bistro lighting, and the lights from the city below don’t help to make the night sky visible.

You pay for his tacos–”I get an employee discount,” you say, brandishing your university id like it’s a black card–and Yoongi doesn’t think that you were in line that long, but when you return to the table, Alice and Jihwan are gone.

“Where’d-” He’s not even asked the question, but you’re already shrugging.

“Alice’s probably off calling her fiance,” you say it like you’re back in high school, all singsong-y and mockingly, “and who knows where Jihwan got to. Probably trying to take someone home tonight.”

“He seems…”

You sigh. “Yeah.”

“How’d you meet him?”

A pang of… something hits him. Your expression falls, ever so slightly, and he regrets asking. But after a brief moment, you clear your throat. “He and I are the only two on campus without gems.”

Oh.

Well.

That makes sense.

“So they…”

You pick a piece of red cabbage off your taco and eat it. “Yeah, they know.”

Which explains Alice’s side-eye earlier. The weird emotion he’d gotten from you is gone now, and you seem to have just brushed right past the awkward feelings.

He hums, not really sure what to say. What’s there to say? So instead of saying anything dumb, he does the safe thing. He changes the subject.

“No wonder they didn’t kick the taco guy out of the festival this year.” He takes another bite of his taco. “This is the best al pastor I’ve ever had.”

“His chimichangas are amazing, but he only makes them on special days.”

“More special than…?” He gestures vaguely. Around you, the lights have started to dim. Yoongi isn’t really sure when that started, but things are definitely less bright.

You laugh, and something inside of him warms.

He hasn’t even finished his tacos yet, but the vibe in the clearing starts to dramatically change. The crowd gathers tighter, a palpable buzz in the air. Alice has returned and stands alone near the head of the table. She’s looking up at the sky, and when Yoongi looks up, he sees why. There’s an aurora in the sky, gentle waves of effervescent greens and blues swirling through the heavens, just like the night market all those years ago. It has to be magic of some sort–the city isn’t far enough north for it to be natural–but he can’t tell who’s doing it.

A hand on his shoulder pulls his focus back to the ground. You’re there behind him, bathed in the dim glow of the floating lights around you. By now, it’s almost dark, but even in the low light and deep shadows, you’re beautiful.

“Come on,” you say softly. “Let’s get a good spot closer to the lookout.”

He follows you through the crowd, weaving around the bodies to get closer to the edge of the clearing. It’s tight, and you grab his hand so you don’t get separated. Normally, Yoongi isn’t a huge fan of crowds like this. You’re a small island in a sea of people, and he barely has room to turn in a circle without bumping into someone. You stand close–close enough that he can feel your warmth through the chill of the night.

The city spans the valley below, a forest of metal and windows and concrete. A bright spot in the middle of an otherwise dark night. But then, individually at first and then more, the buildings’ lights begin to flicker out.

“They’ve been doing this festival since before the city got public electricity,” you explain, answering his question before he could even ask. “It’s kind of a big deal.”

With the lights of the city mostly out, the stars above are much brighter. He can almost see them twinkling and winking as they burn, millions of billions of lightyears away. The night sky is beautiful, and his eyes drift around to locate the constellations he’d learned as a child. Almost immediately, he finds Perseus, right beside his wife Andromeda. You’d loved the myth of Perseus slaying Medusa when you were kids, and even though he hadn’t looked for the constellation in over a decade, finding it is still ingrained in him.

He nudges you slightly, pointing up to the constellation. But just as he does, a pinprick of light streaks across the sky. You squeeze his hand as more streaks start to appear and the gathered crowd buzzes with ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s. The meteors are all sizes. Big and bright. Small and thin. They aren’t constant, only a few show up every minute, but it’s beautiful to watch.

There’s a strange sensation growing in his chest, something warm and fluttering and all-encompassing. You lean a little closer and the feeling grows. You must sense something–he’s never really been sure what his emotions feel like for you–because you look up at him. For a moment, you look confused.

Yoongi isn’t really sure how it happens, but what he does know is that suddenly, your face is centimeters from his own. He thinks that maybe someone bumped you and you took a step closer, but maybe that’s just his brain trying to fill in the gaps. He also knows that he’s the one that closes the space between you, leans in and brushes his lips against yours. It’s quick, a little impulsive, and truthfully, it feels a little forbidden.

He pulls away, not far enough to make it seem like he’s made a mistake, but enough that it gives you an out, if you want it. His brain starts making all these calculations–what he should do if you back away, what he should do if you slap him, what if you don’t react.

But then you whisper, “Why’d you stop?” and your hand slides up his chest to grip the lapel of his coat. You tug with a surprising amount of force, and when your lips connect, he feels himself soaring.

His entire world narrows to the points where your bodies connect. The firm touch of your knuckles against his shirt, the way your leg presses against his, but mostly the heat from your lips as he deepens the kiss. You fit against him perfectly, as if you were made for each other. He’d only kissed you that one time, but somehow, he’d missed it, missed you.

When you finally pull away, you stay close, pressed against his chest–though whether that’s fully your choice or because of the crowd tightening around you is anyone’s guess. He can feel your heart pounding, and when you shoot him a small smirk, he’s pretty sure that you can feel the pace of his own pulse. Your grip loosens on the collar of his coat and you smooth it down coolly before your arm wraps around his back. Without a word, you cozy in, pressed close as your gaze returns to the sky and to the stars.

For a moment, he stands there, unmoving, mind empty. But then it’s like he snaps out of a trance, and he snakes an arm around your waist, holding you tightly. His focus shifts to the shooting stars above, catching one just as it streaks across the sky. As he stands there, staring at the heavens and feeling your steady breathing, his mind begins to wander.

12 years, 7 months, and 3 days. He’d spent most of that time wondering what would have happened if he hadn’t left. If, after he’d kissed you at the night market, he’d been satisfied with whatever life had come after that. He’d been so scared back then, of losing control, of his life not being his own. But now, none of that matters.

Now, he’d give up almost anything to stay here, in this moment, in your arms.

okay so like... what do we think? how are we feeling? I was originally planning on having this be much longer, but I was so stressed out from grad school, I just wanted to get it out now. I'm so excited to hear your thoughts! and let me know if you want to see a part 2 (and if so, what you might want to see in it!!)

#yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #bts x reader #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fic #suga fic #suga fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fic #min yoongi fic #min yoongi fanfic #myg x reader #bts soulmate au #bts supernatural au #set me free

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steddiecameraroll · 16 days

Text

CW: mention of surgery and family member’s death

ao3

Eddie’s not paying attention to where he’s walking when he bumps into someone coming out of a coffee shop.

“Oh,” Eddie steps back and opens his mouth to apologize, when he looks up to see who he’d crashed into.

“You ok?” The man asks.

Eddie tries to respond, wants to respond, opens his mouth to respond but the quirk in the man’s smile is taunting him. It’s connected to a face that could make a man weak in the knees, in fact it’s doing just that right now.

“Ya good?” The man asks again this time putting his hand cautiously on Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie can’t do anything but nod. “Alright, watch where you’re going, ok?”

There’s no frustration in his tone, no heat behind his words but Eddie feels like he should definitely do what he’s asking. Before Eddie can actually say anything the guy is walking away down the sidewalk in the opposite direction than Eddie needs to go.

Without thinking, Eddie turns on his heels and follows the man. He’s never done anything like this before in fact he doesn’t know why he’s doing it now, but something is pushing him to follow. He watches the soft bounce of hair on the man’s gorgeous head weave through the crowd but then suddenly disappear.

Eddie blinks a couple of times thinking his eyes have stopped working. He ducks around a few people trying to catch sight of the man but can’t find him anywhere. Maybe he’s losing his mind.

Eddie stops and puts his hands on his hips, swiveling around trying to find the guy. Where could he have gone?

Someone crashes into his back then yells at him for standing in the middle of the sidewalk, reminding him he’s going to be late for lunch with Chrissy.

He apologizes to the guy for standing, only partially sarcastically, then heads back in his original direction towards the diner he’s meeting his best friend at.

“Who was he?” Chrissy asks around a fry.

“No clue, but it was like I had to follow him. I’ve never seen him before.”

“Was he hot?” She cocks her head like she’s figured him out.

“Uh, he- I, yes, but that wasn’t why I followed him.”

“Uh huh, and getting his number isn’t a motivator at all.” She rolls her eyes and tosses her balled up straw wrapper at his head.

“Hey,” Eddie swats her trash away. “I’m serious. That wasn’t it. I don’t know, it was something else.”

Chrissy inspects him from across the table. She knows him better than he knows himself, and she knows he wouldn’t follow some random guy without a reasonable excuse.

“Did he look like someone? Remind you of anyone, maybe?”

“I don’t think so, but- maybe?” He shrugs and wishes he could put his finger on it.

He’s spent the last 30 minutes trying to figure it out but coming up blank. He can’t stop thinking about the man’s gorgeous hazel eyes glinting back at him.

Eddie slings his backpack over his shoulder and shuffles his way off the train. He’s lost in thought, like he’s been for the last several days since running into that coffee guy, and doesn’t clock the group of teenagers rushing towards the doors. They part around him, but one of them bumps into his backpack spinning him around and he stops moving just as they’re ushered into the train. The man reprimanding their behavior is standing just inside the door when Eddie realizes it’s the guy. THE guy. But before his brain sends a signal to his feet, the train door is closing and Eddie stands gawking instead.

When the train starts moving slowly, Eddie’s brain jump starts and he’s rushing toward the train. He can see the guy standing near the window so he starts waving his hands trying to get his attention. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if the guy happens to notice him, but he’s feeling a compulsive need to try.

The train starts speeding up and he still hasn’t noticed Eddie.

“Shit, excuse me. Excuse me! Sorry, shit, sorry!” He weaves around other passengers and races along the train continuing to wave his hands.

He runs out of platform a few feet later and just as he drops his arms he thinks he sees a flash of those hazel eyes peering through the glass. He’s panting hard, his side twinging slightly, when he runs his hand through his hair. That was the most physical activity he’s gotten in awhile, and that’s kind of embarrassing.

When he turns around he realizes he’s almost alone on the platform. Which also means he’s going to be late to work.

“You saw him again? On the train?” Chrissy is munching on half of a banana nut muffin.

“No, yes, but I wasn’t on the train. I was getting off and he got on.”

“He didn’t see you?”

“No, I tried, too. I ran along the side of the train trying to get his attention.” Eddie swivels back and forth in his desk chair while chewing on his thumbnail.

“Ran? You, ran? Next to the train?”

“Yeah, I know.” He sighs and rolls his eyes slightly.

“What were you expecting to do if he did see you?”

“I hadn’t thought that far,” which was true.

“So then he sees you and what? Were you just going to wave? Stand there like a goober and wiggle your fingers at him? I mean, Eddie, you gotta think these things through.”

She has a point but she should know he’s more of an act first think about it later kinda guy. Plus, who knows maybe the guy has been thinking about Eddie just as much has he has. Maybe he would see Eddie and know exactly what to do. It’s possible. Not likely, but possible.

“No?” He lies because that’s exactly what he would’ve done.

“You’re pathetic. You gotta stop obsessing about this dude. You interacted with him for approximately 15 seconds.”

“I knoooooooww,” Eddie whines. “But I can’t explain it, Chris. Ugh. Do you think he’s someone I went to school with? Maybe elementary school so he looks different but there’s something that seems familiar?”

“Why are you asking me? I have no idea. I think you should ask your penis.” She tilts her head causing her ponytail to swish slightly.

“What!?” Eddie squeaks.

“Come on, you’re attracted to him, and I think little Eddie is driving this ridiculous obsession. That’s it.” She tosses her muffin wrapper in the trash can and slaps her palms on top of Eddie’s desk. “You’re getting laid. This weekend we’re going out and I don’t want to hear it.”

“I can’t get out of this can I?” He loves this woman, but he kinda wanted to stay home this weekend and get his one shot campaign finished.

“Nope,” she says with a giggle.

“What about him?” Chrissy yells into Eddie’s ear while stealthily pointing across the bar.

Eddie turns to see where she’s pointing and she’s got to be kidding. “Do you know me at all? No.” He sighs and turns back to his beer.

“Come oooon, you’re not even trying. Ooh what about him?”

Eddie takes a quick glance before shaking his head. “I think this place is a dud tonight.”

“You’re just picky.” She swirls her drink aimlessly looking around the room.

The place is pretty packed for a Friday night, but they were able to grab a couple stools at the bar top, which Eddie is grateful for. Chrissy is spun around facing outward. Her foot is bouncing to the beat of the music playing overhead. She’s all dolled up, on the hunt herself but making sure to keep an eye out for Eddie.

“Ooh,” she gasps and Eddie tries to see what she’s looking at. “She’s pretty.”

“Where?”

“Over there, near the pole.”

Eddie cranes his neck and sees a taller woman with a short bob, wearing an oversized blazer, sleeves shoved to her elbows, and laughing at someone standing behind the pole.

“You should go talk to her.” Eddie nudges her foot.

“You think?” Chrissy keeps her eyes pointed on the woman. “Oh, she’s…hmm,” Chrissy bites her bottom lip and smiles shyly. “She looked at me. She did it again. Oh.”

Eddie hides a laugh behind his drink and risks a glance across the bar. He catches the woman nervously glancing at Chrissy and immediately thinks they’re a match made in heaven.

“Go, I’ll be fine.” Eddie nudges her again. “I’m gonna go smoke anyway.”

“Ok, be safe out there.”

She hates that he has to go out back to smoke. It’s a creepy alley behind a gay bar. The worst he’s ever run into back there are a few rushed blowjobs and some handies. People usually leave him alone, though. He doesn’t really give off a friendly vibe.

Eddie finishes off his beer and slides off his stool with a stretch of his arms.

“Good luck, Cunningham. Go get yourself a lesbian.” He shakes her shoulder gently and heads toward the back door.

He takes a deep breath when the night air hits him. It feels good after spending time in the stuffy bar. He shuffles his way down from the door, and finds a spot against the brick wall. He then pulls out his crinkled pack of Camels, plucks a cigarette out, and slots it between his lips.

While holding his lighter to the tip of his cigarette, the back door slides open and he turns to watch someone walk out.

Oh my god

It’s him

Eddie’s cigarette falls from his lips as his mouth gapes open. He’s moving on instinct towards the man he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about for the past seven days. The man sees Eddie approaching and he gives him a nervous smile. Eddie realizes he doesn’t recognize him. That fact stings more than it should.

“You,” Eddie says with a shakey breath.

“Um, you ok, man?”

“Who are you?” Eddie scans over the man’s face trying to piece it together.

He sees two perfectly placed moles on the man’s cheek and two more along his neck. Nothing that is triggering a memory though.

“Uh, Steve? Do I know you?”

Eddie ducks his head and starts looking over other parts of the man’s body. More moles line the man’s arms and his exposed shoulders from under his tank top. Eddie’s eyes catch on a tattoo on the man’s pec through the gap in his shirt.

“What’s-what’s that? " Eddie cocks his head. "That date?”

The man, Steve, looks down noticing Eddie seeing the tattoo.

“It’s the day I was saved.”

“What?” Eddie’s eyes flick up to Steve’s before dropping back to the tattoo.

It’s the day Eddie’s mom died.

“I had a heart transplant.”

Eddie’s hands drop to his sides and his face slowly relaxes as he starts to wonder if it’s possible.

“Do you- uh, do you know who…? Who your donor was?”

Steve furrows his brows and cocks his head. “Uh, yeah?”

“Who? Who was it? I-I lost my mom that day.” Steve’s face softens and Eddie watches as the man looks him over.

“Elizabeth-“

“Munson?” Steve nods and Eddie gasps covering his mouth with his hand in shock. “Oh my god.”

“She saved my life.”

Tears well in Eddie’s eyes as he reaches his fingers toward Steve. He asks for silent permission to touch and Steve nods. Eddie huffs a heavy breath as he presses his hand to Steve’s chest. He lets his fingers spread out, pushing his palm against him. Before Eddie can take a deep breath he feels the pound of Steve’s heartbeat against his hand.

His mom’s heartbeat.

Eddie looks up with a wet chuckle and sees matching tears in Steve’s eyes.

“I wasn’t going to make it. I was on my last leg and then suddenly there was a viable heart.” Steve places his hands over Eddie’s and stares into his eyes. “Thank you.”

Eddie nods and swallows back the sob he wants to release. Steve runs his thumb comfortingly across Eddie’s knuckles and gives him a sad smile.

“I knew there was something.” Eddie shakes his head. “Since I saw you last week, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Last week?” Steve furrows his brows and then widens his eyes in realization. “The coffee shop. You bumped into me.” He smiles at Eddie fondly.

“Yeah,” Eddie says a little embarrassed. “Then again at the train station. You were with some kids.”

“That was you. I thought I saw you but wasn’t sure.”

“I might’ve chased the train a little.” Eddie shrugs.

“Chased the train? For me?”

“A little.” Eddie’s hand is still pressed against Steve’s chest so he can feel when the man’s pulse kicks up.

“And now you’re here. Somehow. It’s like the universe wanted us to meet.” Steve bites his bottom lip and Eddie suddenly wants to bite it too.

Now that he knows why he felt so pulled toward Steve, he can actually look at the man. It’s like a fog is lifted and he can see Steve in all his beautiful glory.

“Yeah,” Eddie whispers.

“Do you wanna get a drink? With me?” Steve asks nervously, and if he could read Eddie’s mind he wouldn’t be so nervous.

“Yes,” he nods quickly. “I’d love to.”

Steve keeps his grip on Eddie’s hand and laces their fingers together before pulling them toward the door.

“I’m here with my friend Robin, but she is getting hit on by the cutest little blonde, so she won’t bother us.”

“My friend Chrissy is a cute little blonde. Wouldn’t that be funny?”

coffee? ☕️🍩💕

#I made myself cry #inspired by an episode of Monk I watched last night #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddiecameraroll posts #steddie ficlet #steddie fics

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jobean12-blog · 12 days

Text

Aftermath

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (Mob!Bucky AU)

Word Count: 2,318

Summary: Bucky has kept you safe for as long as he's had you but the first time you don't follow his orders is definitey going to be the last.

Author's Note: These new pics are giving lots of mob/mafia vibes and I love it! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: some angst in the beginning and illusions to violence, mentions of a gun, Bucky is soft and there are lots of fluffy moments but he's pissed you didn't listen and he needs you.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, sighing heavily when Nat doesn’t pick up the phone. She only called you two minutes ago. Right after she sent you a text telling you she needed to talk. Under any other circumstances you would never leave your perch at the bar. Never leave the safety of Bucky’s club and go against his orders.

However, your best friend needs you. She just had a bad break up and things are still rocky so any time she calls you were sure to be there for her. So here you are, standing on the sidewalk outside Bucky’s nightclub, phone pressed to your ear and your foot tapping rapidly against the concrete.

Bucky told you about the heavy tension building between him and a rival boss trying to impede on his territory. He told you that your safety was his first priority. That’s why you were with him at his club right now. He didn’t want you out of his sight.

But you were only just right outside the door…

You’ll try Nat one more time then go back inside and wait for Bucky like he asked.

The phone starts ringing and you hold your breath, hoping she’ll answer. Just as you hear her voice on the other end a car pulls up at the curb and with one glance the occupants have you swiftly turning on your heel and heading back toward the doors of the club.

“Nat,” you say quietly. “Are you ok?”

“I’m having a rough night,” she sighs. “I need your opinion on something.”

“Of course.”

You’re walking at a brisk clip, realizing that during your musings you had wandered farther from the door than you intended to.

Nat is still talking but the sound of your blood rushing through your ears starts to drown out any other sounds.

Four men get out of the car, none of which you recognize. You need to get inside quickly. One of them, carrying a baseball bat, twirls it lazily in his hand as he saunters closer, looking you over appreciatively.

Apprehension shoots up your spine, intuition guaranteeing that they’re here to start trouble.

“Nat I have to go. Call Bucky.”

She starts to reply but you hang up before she can, hoping she heard the trepidation in your voice and does as you asked.

Before you can reach the entrance, two of them lunge in front of you and block your progress.

“Where are you goin’ so fast beautiful?” One of the men asks.

“Excuse me,” you say.

A third man circles up behind you.

“Let me by,” you tell them.

The man holding the baseball bat ignores you.

“You belong to Barnes don’t you?”

Your suspicions are right. These are bad men and they are definitely looking to cause some trouble for your husband. And you.

You shrink back on purpose, appealing to their inflated arrogance and hoping they will underestimate you.

“Please. Just let me go.”

The man with the bat laughs as he runs the coarse wood along your bare calf.

“Think your man will miss you?”

Before the bat reaches your thigh you smack it away. Even though the attempt is most likely useless you’re hoping to pass more time. One of the men behind you snakes a hand around your elbow and yanks you toward him.

“Get in the fucking car baby,” he sneers. “It’s for your own good.”

The fourth man, still in the car, pushes open the back door and lets out a whistle.

“Come on gorgeous. I’ll keep you warm for Barnes.”

You take a deep breath as they propel you toward the car and only put up a small amount of resistance. As soon as you sense they are under the false impression that you’re coming willingly, the hand on your elbow weakens and you act.

With sharp and quick movements you reach for the baseball bat now dangling loosely from the leader’s hands and grab it, swinging it in a large arc to buy yourself some room.

Two of the men jump back, having been caught off guard, but it connects with the leader’s rib cage and he let’s out a vile curse, falling to his knees.

You back up as the other two men approach. Unfortunately, it’s in the direction away from the doors.

“He should have locked this one up,” the man closest to you laughs. “She’s full of fire.”

“And I’m going to enjoy that,” he leader says as he stands, still holding his ribs.

You bring the bat down hard as he lunges for you, but he dodges the weapon and barrels himself closer until he can wrap a strong arm around your waist.

The bat is ripped from your hands and your back is plastered against the man’s chest, his hand creeping up between your breasts to wrap around your throat.

He squeezes hard, tight enough to cut of your air and reflectively your fingers claw and try to pry his hand away.

You try to focus, getting ready to go limp and convince him you’re out cold, so you can somehow disable him.

Just as you’re about to put your plan into action the front door of the club flies open, hitting the side of the brick building with enough force to crack the metal.

Through your dimming eyesight, you can make out several men, including Bucky, before his ferocious growl of denial echoes through the air around you.

It startles the man choking you enough that he eases up on the pressure, allowing you to suck in precious oxygen.

Guns are drawn just before your knees hit the concrete and your stomach twists with renewed fear.

“Bucky,” you whisper, getting to your feet and stepping closer to him.

His haunted gaze makes you swallow hard and you can see the emotional battle written all over his handsome features. With his long finger poised on the trigger, he clearly wants to end the man who had his hands on you.

Without a word he tears his attention away from you, indicting your captor with a nod of his head.

“Steve.”

Steve, his own gun held in a tight grasp, moves in front of Bucky and toward the other man.

“He doesn’t go anywhere,” Bucky seethes.

The other two men from the rival group, still outside of the car, lower their weapons, watching with no emotion as Steve wrestles their leader to the ground with the gun to his head.

Finally, they let out a string of curses and hop back into the car, leaving their ‘friend’ behind as they peel away from the curb.

Bucky motions to Clint and Sam. “Follow them. This ends tonight.”

As Clint and Sam rush off to follow Bucky’s order he slowly saunters forward, the open collar of his shirt blowing wider in the light breeze.

He picks up the bat with a nonchalance that contradicts the tightness of his body and swings it deftly in his metal hand. When his fingers close around the handle you hear the wood crack under the pressure.

Bucky comes to a stop directly over the left-behind leader, and his gaze meets yours for a brief, heavy second, before he raises the bat high and brings it down with enough force to make you gasp.

Your heart races out of control, breathing shallow in your ears. The bat connects with the sidewalk next to the man’s head, sending shards of wood in every direction.

Your relief is short lived.

Bucky crouches down and looks the cowering man straight in his eyes.

“You. Are a dead man.”

Slowly and purposefully he rises to his feet and holds his hand out for you. You swallow the hard lump in your throat and place your fingers in his. In a split second you’re swept into his arms and tugged against his hard chest.

He drags you toward his car and tucks you into the passenger seat, buckling your belt and then slamming the door shut.

Through the closed window you can still hear him shout to Steve. “You know where to take him. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The silence stretches long and thin through the car and you can almost feel Bucky’s rage. You open your mouth to speak but promptly shut it when you hear his huff of warning.

He hates the feeling of fear so instead he welcomes the anger, focusing on it, wishing it’s enough to block out the image of you being choked, your feet scraping at the ground and hands clawing at your neck.

If he dwells on it too long his whole word will collapse and he has to get you home. To safety.

At the reminder of what he saw as he walked out of the club, his grip tightens on the leather steering wheel, almost making the car swerve.

When he pulls up in front of your house he checks his surroundings before driving in through the gated driveway. He looks to you, a silent demand to wait, before he gets out of the car and does another sweep of the area.

Once he deems it safe he opens your door and helps you out of the car.

When you’re safely inside the house he leaves you standing just inside the door, inside the large and opulent foyer, as he flies around the nearby rooms and checks every window and lock.

Your gaze follows him the entire time, trying desperately to draw him in and away from the rage. He staunchly defies it and after he feels satisfied the house is safe he takes you by the arm and leads you toward your shared master bedroom.

He walks to the nightstand and opens the drawer, reaching deep into the back to retrieve a gun.

“Bucky, please. Will you just talk to me?”

He can feel you standing close.

“You will stay in this room, with the door locked, until I come back. Anyone tries to get in that isn’t me, you shoot them. Understand?”

When your silence becomes too much he turns to you, keeping his eyes steady as he pleads.

“Tell me you’ll listen. That you understand.”

You take a deep inhale but still don’t speak.

“I’m waiting for my answer doll.”

You move closer and everything inside him tenses up.

“Don’t,” you whisper.

You lay a hand on his chest, immediately making him tremble from head to toe. His eyes close defensively as your hand moves higher and sneaks under the open buttons of his shirt then to his neck and finally into his hair.

Your lips press to his neck.

“Please Bucky. Don’t leave me. Stay.”

He shakes his head, unable to speak and it only makes you drag your lips higher, along his jaw until they hover just above his mouth.

A groan leaves his parted lips before he can stop it.

“I’m scared. I need you.”

Your lips brush over his, once, twice. The hand in his hair runs smoothly along the back of his neck and then coasts over his broad shoulder and down his chest.

“I have to go doll.”

His words are gritted and tortured before his name leaves your lips in a soft whisper.

“Where are you going?” you ask.

“You know where I’m goin.’ Don’t make me say it.”

When he notices the glossiness of your eyes it strips him bare and he falls back a step, ready to fall to his knees for you.

“Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?”

He’s shouting now.

“If I hadn’t gotten to you in time? One minute later, baby. One fucking minute!”

Your fingers tremble as you reach for him.

“I know, I…”

“You would have been gone. How can you expect me to survive that.”

He breaks off, not able to put the horrifying thought into more words.

“Fuck. I’m so mad at you doll. So mad. But all I can think about is how I need to be inside you. Need to feel you wrapped around me. Feel you everywhere.”

You tightly grasp the lapel of his jacket and drag him closer. He comes easily. Willingly.

“Bucky,” you whisper. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just thought I’d be outside for a second. Nat needed me…I never thought…”

Every word you speak continues to topple the reinforced barrier of anger he’s built. The only thing keeping it standing is that there’s still some physical space between you both.

But then you take a step closer and curl your fingers in the hem of your dress to draw it up over your head, the whole time letting your knuckles and hands brush along his heaving chest and every ounce of his self-control vanishes.

His heated gaze rakes over you and his hands fist at his sides.

You press yourself against him and deliberately untuck his shirt, slipping your hands underneath the lush fabric and running your fingernails up his rigid stomach. His muscles contract beneath your fingers.

“I need you baby doll. So badly.”

You unhook your bra and drop it to the floor, tingles racing over your skin as his jaw grinds with his devouring stare. You lower your hand to palm and squeeze his straining arousal.

“You can have me now Bucky. Now and always.”

His expression softens long enough for you to catch the brightness in his eyes and then his mouth is on yours, his hands frenzied as they grasp and smooth over every inch of your bare skin. He never breaks the kiss as he walks you backward toward the bed, letting you gently fall to the soft mattress before he settles himself between your spread legs.

“I can’t touch all of you at once and it drives me crazy,” he whispers against your lips as his hand slides down between your legs. “I need everything, always.”

@hiddles-rose @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @lizette50 @randomfandompenguin @goldylions @kmc1989

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #mob!bucky #mob!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x female reader #mob!bucky barnes #bucky x reader #mob au #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

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baptismbaby · 6 months

Text

୨୧ HEAVEN

drug dealer!ellie x reader summary: you and ellie don't really get along but tolerate each other for your friends, jesse and dina. when participating in a game of seven minutes in heaven at a party, the bottle lands on ellie. a small confrontation somehow leads to something more. warnings: fingering (r!receiving), ellie's kinda mean but not really wc: 4.1k<3

It was the end of the college semester and all finals were completed which meant it was time to let loose. After spending weeks tiring yourself out, crying, barely getting any sleep just to study, you were treating yourself with alcohol and whatever other substances that would be offered to you. On top of that, you needed to get laid. You knew your friends with benefits, Siobhan, would be there. You and Dina were ready, just waiting for Jesse to come and get you two.

Jesse suddenly opened the door to your dorm and waved a hand urging the two of you to come out. “Let’s go,” he said.

“What took you so long?” Dina asked, shutting the door behind her.

“I was getting stuff.”

“From who?”

“TJ,” responded Jesse.

Both you and Dina groaned. The weed Jesse got from his dealer was too strong for the both of you. No matter how many times you told Jesse you were convinced he laced it, he would buy from him anyway. Plus, he overcharged his customers.

“You know Ellie is gonna be at the party,” said Dina. “Why not buy from her?”

You made a face. Ellie was great friends with Dina and Jesse but you didn’t really like her. All she had to offer was good weed and discounts since you were friends with Dina. Other than that, you thought she was cocky. About a year ago, you were dating this girl who wanted to keep the relationship a secret because she was “closeted.” But really, she was also dating Ellie and when the two of you found out, you both showed up to her dorm together to confront her. You tried being friends with Ellie after but she’d brush you off. You thought maybe she hated you for it which you never understood.

“I prefer TJ’s weed.”

“You’re insane, Jesse,” you teased.

“I don’t care if you guys think it’s laced. Whatever he’s lacing it with, works.”

The three of you walked out of the building and down the sidewalk. Luckily, the party was only a few blocks away which meant no one had to drive.

“Oh, before I forget, are you gonna go back to Jesse’s dorm tonight Dina?” you questioned.

“Yeah, why? Gonna hit up Siobhan?”

“Oh, definitely. Haven’t seen her in a month and I need to get laid.”

“You’re still fucking Siobhan? I heard she got a boyfriend recently,” said Jesse.

Both you and Dina shot each other a confused look. “Boyfriend? She’s gay.”

“Don’t shoot the messenger, just something I heard.”

“Nah, Siobhan would tell me if she was dating someone.”

“Well… you did say she was sorta being dry recently,” Dina muttered.

“I mean, yeah, but she said she was stressed with her finals.”

“If I knew you were still fucking her, I would’ve said something sooner.”

“Jesse, what are you not telling me?”

You could hear muffled music from a distance as y’all got closer to the party. Jesse remained silent, hoping you would drop it.

“Jesse,” you continued. “I will pinch you if you don’t tell me what you know.”

You neared the entrance of the party and grabbed the handle, turning it and pulling it open. You looked back at Jesse, waiting for him to say something.

“The boyfriend… might be TJ.”

“What?” you and Dina shrieked. Dina grabbed your arm and pulled you into the party, the both of you giggling and leaving Jesse behind. “He has to be joking!” Dina laughed.

“I’m saying, there’s no way!”

“Whatever, wanna go find Ellie to get some weed?”

“Sure, I guess.”

You started looking around the party, searching for Ellie. You finally noticed her standing in the corner with a joint hanging from her lips. You tapped Dina and pointed. “You go ahead, I’m gonna look for Siobhan,” you yelled over the music in her ear. Dina nodded and walked off while you went the opposite direction. You pushed past the crowd of people, glancing to see if you could see her anywhere. You finally saw her sitting on a couch with a red cup in hand. You smirked and walked faster, yelling out her name to get her attention. When she made eye contact with you, her smile fell from her face. You ignored it and held out your hand to help her up. She disregarded it and stood up on her own, placing her cup down on the table.

“Hey,” she said awkwardly.

You raised an eyebrow and tilted your head slightly. “Hey, you okay?”

She sighed and placed her hands on her hips. You started to wonder if Jesse was right earlier.

“Look, I think we should just be friends.”

“Okay, that’s fine,” you said.

“Cool. I’m sorry if I wasted your time or anything.”

“Nah, we were just hooking up. No hard feelings.”

“Yeah, I just wanted to experiment a bit-”

“Wait, huh?” you interrupted. “Experiment?”

Siobhan averted her gaze to the floor. “Y-Yeah, to see if I liked girls. I had a great time with you, you’re amazing. I just prefer men.”

“You told me you were gay,” you said, although it sounded more like a question.

“I didn’t think you would’ve wanted to do anything with me if I said I wanted to experiment.”

“Siobhan, that’s fine but you should’ve said so.”

“Okay. Are we cool?” she asked, obviously wanting to end the conversation.

You shrugged. “Sure… I’m gonna go now. Have a good night.”

You spun around and sped walked to the other side of the room where Ellie and Dina were standing. They were deep in conversation and didn’t acknowledge you at first. You rested your hand on Dina’s shoulder to get her attention, causing her to jump.

“Jesus!” she exclaimed.

“Jesse was right!”

Ellie watched you and Dina talk over each other in confusion. All she could catch from the conversation was “experiment,” “straight,” and “Siobhan.” Ellie tapped your shoulder and gave you a look. “What the hell are you yapping about?”

“Her friends with benefits was-”

“Sh, Dina!” you whined. “Don’t tell her!”

Ellie understood what Dina was about to say anyways, based on what she heard before. Ellie chuckled and shook her head in disbelief.

“What?” you asked.

“That’s embarrassing,” said Ellie.

You rolled your eyes and ignored her. You leaned back against the wall, your eyes darting across the room to see if there was any girl you were interested in and who might be interested in you. But most of these girls you knew were in relationships or were straight. You sighed in defeat and crossed your arms. “Let’s go smoke,” you muttered, tugging Dina’s shirt to follow you. You were looking for a place to sit when you noticed people sitting in a circle. “Wanna go over there?”

“They’re playing seven minutes in heaven,” Ellie said.

“Ugh, what are we, in middle school?”

“Might be kinda fun. Maybe you can get lucky in a closet since your hookup ditched you for dick.”

You glared up at Ellie and smacked her arm. Ellie put her hands in the air with a smirk. “Just saying.”

You thought over it, knowing Ellie was right. If you couldn’t hook up with anyone else, you might as well makeout with a stranger in a closet. “Let’s go,” you groaned. The three of you made your way over to the group.

“Hey, Ellie,” one of the boys greeted. “Coming to play?”

“Yeah, me and her.”

“I’m just here to watch,” said Dina, sitting outside of the circle. Ellie sat next to the boy and you sat on the other side next to a girl.

“Hey,” the girl slurred. She was shitfaced, her cheeks were red and she kept giggling. “Your necklace is soooo cute!”

“Oh, thank you!”

“Quit chit chatting, Ivory. It’s your turn to spin the bottle!”

The girl, who you now knew as Ivory, perked up and crawled ungracefully to the bottle. She spun it weakly, the bottle landing on a guy to the left of you. He stood up, tripping over nothing but catching his balance. He was equally as wasted. The two of them stumbled away, holding onto each other.

“The closet is over here!” Ellie’s friend yelled. Everyone laughed when they kept going and walked into the bathroom. “Well, I guess it’s your turn.”

You realized the man was talking to you. You cleared your throat and leaned over to grab the bottle. You placed it on the ground and spun it hard, causing it to roll to the other side. It slowed down and tapped Ellie’s foot.

“Oooohh, Ellie!” her friend teased. “Isn’t that the girl Lisa cheated on you with?”

“Yikes, that’s awkward,” someone else said. You gave Ellie a dirty look as she stood up, walking over to you with her hand held out. “Get up,” she demanded. You grabbed her hand and was yanked up roughly. Ellie dragged you into the closet and slammed the door behind her.

“You know, we could’ve-”

“Shut up,” Ellie grumbled.

The two of you tried hard to be as far away from each other as possible but it was difficult. The closet was too small.

“Lisa didn’t cheat on you with me, by the way,” you muttered.

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Fine! I guess we’ll stand here in silence.”

Ellie groaned, rubbing her eyes and covering her face behind her hands after. “Why did I suggest playing this stupid game?”

“Hey, you could’ve said no when the bottle landed on you.”

“I’m not a pussy,” Ellie defended herself.

“Whatever.”

The way you had to stand was awkward. Ellie’s feet were together, your feet on either side. You wanted to laugh at how ridiculous you looked but didn’t want to annoy Ellie again.

“Here,” said Ellie, putting her left foot on the other side of your right one. She pushed your foot against her other one so you weren’t in the position you were before. Now, you and Ellie’s feet were intertwined. “You looked uncomfortable.”

“Thanks.”

Ellie crossed her arms, her eyes fixed on you. You looked down to avoid making contact.

“What’s the deal with you and Siobhan?” Ellie suddenly asked.

You scoffed. “Why would I tell you? So you can laugh at me?”

“I won’t laugh. Swear. I just kinda feel like you might wanna talk about it. Might as well talk about it now.”

You sighed, holding out your pinky. “Promise?”

Ellie reluctantly wrapped her pinky with yours. “Um, sure. Promise.”

“Well, I matched with Siobhan on a dating app two months ago. She said she was looking for a fuck buddy and I thought she was pretty cute so we started fucking. But then we got busy, she was dry with me after a month and come to find out, she’s straight and was only experimenting.”

“Damn,” said Ellie. “That sucks.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

“Was she any good?”

“Huh?”

“Was she any good?” Ellie repeated.

You shrugged. “She was okay. I was kinda desperate, I guess. I’m not a top but I topped for her. I tried getting her to top me but she refused.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow. “Wait, you’re not a top?”

“Um, no,” you scoffed. “I prefer being a bottom. It was my first time topping, actually. Or… being dominant, I guess is the correct term. So, I guess we were both experimenting.”

Ellie started laughing. She put her hand on the wall beside your head to keep her balance.

“What’s so funny?”

“You’re bullshitting!”

“Hey, I’m not bullshitting!”

“Dude, we both were dating the same person once. You’re lying,” Ellie retorted. Her laughter had died down and her demeanor changed. She was serious and seemed slightly irritated.

“I wasn’t dominant with Lisa,” you uttered. “Were you?”

“Yeah, I was.”

“Oh… didn’t know she was a switch. She never told me that.”

Everything got really quiet again. You checked the time on your phone, wondering if the seven minutes was close to being done yet.

“She did cheat on me with you,” said Ellie. “You said she didn’t but she did.”

“Ellie, she was playing both of us. And yes, she cheated on me with you. Her and I were dating before you guys were.”

“If you say so.”

“Dude, get over it. It happened over a year ago. It’s in the past. Maybe you should be angry at her and not me.”

“I am angry at her and not you.”

“You were so cool at first,” you continued, disregarding what she said. “I thought we were gonna be friends after what happened. I thought us confronting her together was something we were gonna laugh about after but you blew up on me and ignored me. Now, you’re rude anytime I’m around.”

“I was wrong for that,” Ellie admitted. “I’m sorry.”

You were surprised to hear an apology from Ellie. Everything you had planned to say vanished. You rested your hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently. “It’s okay. I wanted to blow up on you when I first found out about you. But I knew it wasn’t your fault.”

“I know it wasn’t yours either. I was… ugh, nevermind.”

“You can tell me.”

“Forget it.”

Ellie hated talking about her feelings with her own friends. The fact that she was opening up to you a bit terrified her. You kept staring at her intently, a small smile on your lips. You never noticed but she was actually very pretty. The way the light from the crack in the door hit her face made her look ethereal.

“You know, I was kinda hoping there would be someone out there I would wanna hook up with,” you said, changing the subject. Ellie chuckled and nodded.

“Yeah, not a lot of options out there, huh?”

You shook your head no and laughed, leaning your head back on the wall. “I wonder how long we’ve been in here.”

“I think we got a couple minutes left,” said Ellie.

“Guess I won’t get lucky in a closet either,” you joked.

“Do you want to?”

You snorted. “I mean, there’s no one out there who interests me.”

“Well, I’m here.”

Your eyes widened. Ellie stepped forward, completely closing the space between the two of you. Her hand was pressed against the wall as she towered over you. She glanced down at your tight shirt that hugged your chest perfectly. “Not gonna lie, you look good tonight.”

“Ellie…”

“What?”

“C’mon, you’re high. You don’t mean that.”

Despite how weird you were starting to feel, you couldn’t ignore the throbbing between your legs. Your breath grew heavy as she licked her lips and brushed her fingers along your jaw. You were frozen, staring up at her in shock. Ellie’s hand dropped to her side and she laughed. “I’m just joking, dude. Damn, you should see your face right now. Like a deer in headlights.”

“Not f-funny, Ellie,” you mumbled, your face still buzzing from how gentle her touch was.

“What, did I get you all worked up?” she taunted.

Before you could respond, there was a banging at the door. “Time’s up!”

The door opened and you rushed out, leaving Ellie behind. You looked over your shoulder to see her smirking at you. You sat down in the closest chair that was out of view for Ellie, fighting to catch your breath. You felt confused. How was it that it went from the two of you arguing to her making a move on you? Sure, she was just teasing. But the way she looked at you made you think otherwise. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and texted Dina.

hey, where r u????

going back tojessses dorm

hpw was thr closwet???

girl are u wasted… i didnt even see u drink anything tf

a tiny bot i stple a bottle:)

the closet was fine we said nothing to each other the whole time

damn dina did u even eat today???

nopr! srry for missinh it got tpo sick

dont be sorry, drink some water n go to bed. feel better xo

You shoved your phone back in your pocket and sighed. Your mind was going crazy thinking about what happened. To make matters worse, you started wondering how it would’ve been if Ellie was being serious. If she kissed you, felt you up a little bit. Would you have liked it?

After an hour of small talk with a few other people and two drinks, the party was finally dying down. Mostly everyone had left and the music no longer played. Usually, you’d be gone by now. But you stayed because Ellie was still there. You could see her eyeing you from across the room, rolling a joint to give to one of her friends. You were gonna wait until she left to go to. A few minutes passed and she finally stood up, making her way to you. You sighed and got up from your seat, waiting for her to approach you.

“Thought you would’ve left by now,” she said once she was a few feet away from you.

“Yeah, me too.”

Ellie leaned against the counter and smiled. “Did you find someone to hookup with?” You shook your head no. “Me neither.”

“Damn,” you mumbled.

“Come home with me.”

You raised an eyebrow at her. “Seriously? Playing a prank on me again?”

“No, I’m not. You’re being annoying asking too many questions all the time. Just get your shit and come with me,” she demanded. You grabbed your bag and followed Ellie. You jogged a bit to catch up so that you were walking by her side. She opened the door for you, watching your ass as you stepped out.

“Is Dina with Jesse tonight?”

“Yeah,” you answered.

“Was wondering where she went.”

“She got too drunk.”

“When did she drink anything?”

“When we were in the closet, apparently,” you said.

“Did you tell her what I did?”

“No.”

“Atta girl,” praised Ellie. You blushed, your heart racing.

“I thought you were ‘just joking,’ Ellie.”

“I was kinda but… we both wanna fuck and there’s no one else to fuck. Thought we could help each other out.”

You said nothing and picked up the pace when the cold air blew harder. You wrapped your arms around yourself as an attempt to feel warm but it didn’t help. You mentally cursed yourself for forgetting a coat.

“Wanna borrow my hoodie?” Ellie asked.

“It’s fine.”

“You can wear it until we get there,” Ellie pulled her hoodie over her head, revealing a baggy black t-shirt and her tatted arm. She threw it at you and chuckled when you yelped.

“Thanks, Ellie.” You shoved it over your head and sighed at the warmth. You could smell her cologne and weed, which comforted you. Ellie’s phone started to ring. She groaned and pulled it out, answering without checking the ID.

“What?” she snapped. She slowed to a stop and sighed. “Dammit, okay. I guess I’ll go to my girl’s dorm instead. Bye.” Ellie shoved her phone back in her jean pocket, cussing under her breath. “We’re gonna have to go to your dorm.”

“That’s fine,” you said.

“Not really. I told my roommate I was bringing a girl home and to go to his girl’s place if he finds one. He doesn’t listen.”

“Well, luckily I have the room all to myself since Dina is with Jesse.”

The dorms came into view. You were growing anxious, suddenly aware of what was about to happen. You wanted this and you knew you did. At first, it was because of desperation. But now, you wanted it because it was with Ellie. You felt strange. You didn’t even like her. You weren’t even drunk enough to blame it on alcohol. Maybe it excited you to have sex with someone you hated. Whatever it was, you didn’t care. At least you were getting something.

When the two of you finally got to your dorm, you both stood there awkwardly. Ellie’s boldness from earlier was long gone. You set your bag down and kicked your shoes off. “I’m gonna take my makeup off,” you mumbled. Ellie stayed quiet and sat down on the bed, studying the posters on your wall. Since Ellie wasn’t looking, you decided to undress and change into a tank top. You got the last bit of makeup off and threw the wipe in the trash. You sat down next to Ellie, gaining her attention. She smirked at the polka dot boyshorts you were wearing.

“That’s real grown up,” she teased.

“Hey, they’re comfortable.”

Ellie placed a hand on your thigh, slowly running it up and down your exposed skin. “I wish we could’ve gone to my place,” she whispered, her hand getting closer to your panties. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you went to speak. “W-Why?”

“I was gonna fuck you with a strap. And you could’ve been as loud as you wanted.” Ellie tugged on your thigh, signaling you to open your legs. You spread them and watched Ellie lean over to admire the wetness that showed. “God, I was gonna fucking ruin you. Get up and strip for me,” she commanded. You got up and stepped between her knees, letting her run her hands all over your body as you pulled your tank top over your head. “Fuck,” she breathed. She grabbed your chest and squeezed tightly, eliciting a moan from you. She sat up and wrapped her mouth around your nipple, her tongue going in circles and flicking the bud. Your fingers went through Ellie’s hair and tugged at the strands. She groaned, wrapping her arms around your body and slamming you onto the bed.

She shoved your panties down and put her hand over your cunt. You bucked your hips forward, begging for her to do more. She brought her thumb down and placed it on your clit. “Is this what you wanted?”

You nodded, a whine escaping your lips as she moved her thumb in a circle over the bundle of nerves. She grinned watching your body writhe in pleasure. Your soft moans filled the room, growing louder as she sped up. Her hand covered your mouth to stifle them. “Sh, sh, sh… don’t want anyone hearing, do you?” You shook your head. “Then shut up, will you?”

You tried to keep quiet but it was hard. Ellie was too good with her fingers. You could already feel that familiar burning in your stomach, meaning you were close. Ellie noticed your squeals and whimpers were coming out quicker and more desperate. She kept her thumb on your clit and slipped in two fingers, pressing down harder on your mouth to muffle your whining. She fingered you at a fast pace, her thumb still going in circles. You felt dizzy, overwhelmed with how good it felt. Ellie put a third finger in, your cunt tightening around her digits. Ellie was amused watching you come undone beneath her. Before you knew it, your orgasm took over you. It was powerful, coming in waves that made your body convulse and forced you to bite your lip hard to keep from screaming. Ellie pulled her fingers out and sucked them clean.

You laid there, fighting to catch your breath. Ellie leaned over and grabbed your tank top and panties, placing them beside you. She got up and disappeared to the bathroom and came back out with a wet rag. “Here,” she said as she held it out to you. “You kinda made a mess.” You took the rag and raised up, cleaning up your thighs and handing it back to Ellie. “Thanks,” you mumbled. You shoved your clothes back on and got underneath the covers while Ellie sat on Dina’s bed. You felt awkward with the uncomfortable silence that fell over you two. You wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

“I… think I’m gonna go,” said Ellie, standing up to grab her hoodie. “I’ll text you, okay?”

“Oh, okay. Get home safe.”

Ellie left without saying anything else. You were so confused. You had a great time with her but once it ended, you felt weird. Like it wasn’t supposed to happen but at the same time, you were elated. You’ve never came so quickly before in your life and it definitely never felt that good. You had no clue how it got to this point. She spent the whole year either ignoring you or being short with you. Tonight was the first time she actually really talked to you and you realized that before the closet. You wondered if she really would text you. This was a one time thing and you knew that. A part of you wished it wouldn’t be.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x you #tlou2 #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams x reader #the last of us #the last of us part two #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams smut

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aether-starlight · 19 days

Text

Gymnopédie - Zayne

Pairing: Zayne x Reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption, innuendos.

Summary: You confuse Zayne’s number with your trusted ride back home. When he insists on picking you up himself, how could you refuse?

Word Count: 1.7 K

The world was spinning, but in a pleasant way, as if gravity no longer affected you. You felt close to floating instead of walking, weightless as the cherry blossom petals that drifted through the air.

You were so light, in fact, that your fingers struggled to exert any pressure on the numbers in your screen, phone nearly slipping out of your hands and crashing into the pavement.

You leaned against Tara, both of you giggling about nothing in particular as you sat by the sidewalk. Her arm was wrapped around your shoulders, the sides of your heads pressed together.

Mojitos had been flowing like water tonight, a celebratory dinner after a mission completed with no casualties, hunter or civilian.

For a moment, you had been able to let go, put down the weight of grief, fear and uncertainty in favor of comradery, cheers and funny anecdotes from Captain Jenna and the eldest members of UNICORN.

Surrounded by your peers, you knew for sure someone had your back, and they wouldn’t let you fall without falling themselves first.

Pressing your phone to your ear—and almost dropping it again—, you impatiently waited for the other end to pick up.

Absentmindedly, you drew a strand of Tara’s silky hair between your tingling fingers.

“Your hair is soooo pretty,” you hiccuped.

“Oooooo. Thank you!” Tara pouted, close to tears, redder than ever. You probably looked no better.

“You’re welcome! I need you to give me some tips because ever since that wanderer burnt half of my freaking scalp—“

“Hello?”

You had forgotten you were on the phone.

“Ah, sorry Mister Song, hi~ I don’t see you.”

There were a few seconds of silence, and you almost pulled down your phone to check if Mister Song hadn’t hung up on you.

“It’s Zayne.”

The smile fell off your face, and like a fool, you double checked the contact name, as well as the time.

It was 3 am.

“Goddess, I’m so sorry. I thought—“

He cut you off, voice thick with sleep, not missing an inch of its imposing nature.

“Are you drunk?”

You winced—that was his admonishment voice, the one he used when your bood tests weren’t within standards, or you had circles under your eyes.

Like a huge cosmic joke, Tara giggled, leaning closer to slur:

“Is that your Doctor? He does sound as grumpy as you s—” You pressed your free hand to her lips, her whole face burning like a furnace.

The silence was deafening. Unbeknownst to you, Zayne had grimaced on the other side of the line, a half amused twist of his lips.

“I’m good,” you lied through your teeth.

“Sure,” he replied goodnaturedly. “Send me your location.”

Defeated, you hid behind a curtain of your hair. A terrible decision, considering how the world began to spin, even as you closed your eyes.

“Okay.”

By the time Zayne arrived, Tara was snoring, head resting on your shoulder. Meanwhile, you had been sipping on a bottle of water Captain Jenna had kindly given you before leaving.

“Hi,” you greeted once he lowered the passenger’s window, mortified.

His gaze met yours, inscrutable. He looked as awake as ever, had it not been for the slight ruffle of his hair, not quite as perfect as he was used to wearing it.

“Oh, you’re here!” Tara slurred, suddenly awake. “This one wouldn’t shut up about you, you know?”

You shut your eyes tightly. Maybe this was all an alcohol induced fantasy.

A swift pinch to your elbow let you know that sadly, it was not the case.

“I’ll assist you.” Was Zayne’s only reply, door slamming it his wake as he approached to hold onto Jenna’s arm.

If there was the ghost of a smile curling at the edges of his mouth, you preferred not to acknowledge it.

“Perhaps your friend could share more details on your opinion of me,” he teased over Tara’s head, hematite eyes full of mirth.

Now it was your face burning up. You were going to kill her when she was sober.

“Of course!” Tara hicupped happily. “She said she missed you,” she sing songed, extending the last word to an unnatural degree.

Tara —thank the Goddess— became dead weight as soon as her head hit the inside of Zayne’s ridiculously expensive car.

Which left you in a somewhat awkward silence. You said somewhat because Zayne seemed as comfortable as ever.

A low melody played from the stereo, something calm and melancholic. He had told you the name once: Gymnopédie No. 1.

Only once Tara was safely back to her parent’s house—her mother hugged you in thanks for taking care of her, making a tight knot grow at the back of your throat— was that Zayne dared to speak.

“This Mister Song, who is he?” He inquired, something flickering through his features much too quick for your dizzy mind to comprehend. His knuckles became pronounced, hands tightening against the wheel.

“My driver?” You replied, confused.

He hummed, eyes on the road.

“A close…friend of yours?”

“Does it matter?”

He shrugged, but it was far too stiff to be genuine.

“It always matters who you place your trust in.”

Silence reigned after that, nothing but your breathing breaking it.

What he said made sense, but the depth of his frown didn’t. He was driving you crazy. Hot and cold, hot and cold.

It was only once you had replayed the conversation in your head, that realization crashed over you. Something somersaulted in your stomach, filled you with an indescribable emotion.

“Zayne…are you jealous?”

You bit your lip to keep from smiling, but it was a lost cause, mirth had permeated into your every word.

This was the closest you had seen him to bashful, pale pink blooming on his cheeks, Adam’s apple bobbing as he cleared his throat.

He loosened his hold on the wheel, letting the car come to a stop, as you were now at his place.

Your smile withered a bit at his lack of response, and took the brief silence as an opportunity to admire him. Zayne’s mouth had tilted down in a now sullen mien.

There wasn’t anything precisely pointing to it, but you could tell he had built a wall, frozen distance even within the warmth of his car.

“You are right. It is none of my concern,” he said, voice icy and impersonal.

Gripping his chin between your fingers, you guided his gaze back to you.

“Mister Song is a seventy year old man. I met him when his taxi was totaled by a Wanderer attack. He’s been my trusted driver ever since.”

He let the information sink in, the jealousy brimming inside him simmering.

A jealousy he knew he had no right to, which only served to upset him further.

You were not his.

But he was yours.

And yet, something in the way you looked at him begged to differ. You weren’t his because he couldn’t bring himself to ask, because he was a fool.

“What’s that look for?” You whispered, fingers trailing down his shoulder, basking in the soft fabric of his black shirt.

“What look?”

You tried to replicate his gesture, brows pulling together, almost making you go cross eyed.

He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him.

“Hey, I’m trying,” you complained, raising your hand to intertwine with the other at the nape of his neck.

“I didn’t comment on it.”

“You didn’t have to.” Your words still had a slurred edge to them.

“There is no winning with you.”

You laughed back.

“Just admit it, you’re obsessed with me.”

“Who said that?”

It was only then that a question that had been begging to be asked rose from the back of your mind.

“Why are we at your place?” You tilted your head to the side.

The petal spots in Zayne’s cheeks deepened in color.

“I would like to keep you under my observation, as you are still intoxicated.” He hesitated for a second, a low exhale escaping him. “If I have your permission.”

Your smile tempered into something different. Not upset, but serious.

As you regarded Zayne, something tightened in your chest. It hurt, but left you wanting.

Goddess, you wanted, you wanted, you wanted. It was a prayer your body hummed whenever he was close.

“I’d love to, Zayne,” you whispered. brushing a thumb to the edge of his jaw before letting go.

A light dinner, anc copious amounts of water afterwards, you were lying side by side with Zayne, wearing one of his shirts, and joggers that were definitely much to big for you.

The lamps on each side of his bed were on, as you were having a light conversation. He was resting against the headboard, while you had your face shamelessly pressed to the pillow on your side.

The scent of it soothed you, of lavender and soap.

“I have sent you letters,” he denied, voice rough with sleep.

“If only I could have managed to read them.”

He frowned deeper at your poke at his chicken scratch. Some things were just inescapable in the medical field, you supposed.

You leaned closer, finding his gaze even as he purposefully avoided it, suddenly brimming with affection.

“Aw, was that too mean?” You cupped his face between your hands, and much like the black stray cat you liked to feed, he reluctantly leaned into your touch.

Boldened by it, you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

“I did read them, you know?” Your hands cradled the sides of his neck, thumbs resting below his earlobe. “I kept them all.”

Zayne’s lips twitched, but he managed to remain serious, gray eyes boring into yours.

“I kept your replies too,” he murmured, turning to lay a kiss on your wrist. “Though I was tempted to correct some grammar mistakes.”

You huffed, dropping your hands.

“Rude! For your information, my writing is impeccable.”

“You said perchance an unacceptable amount.” He chided, seeming to mull it over. “I don’t think that word means what you think it does.”

He was probably right.

“Whatever,” you crossed your arms over your chest, leaning back against the head of his bed, setting your eyes forward.

The mattress dipped beside you, hinting at Zayne’s closeness.

“Are you upset?” He asked with an undertone of mirth to his faux concern.

You felt yourself flush deeper, forcing out a sarcastic reply.

“What makes you think that?”

He pressed his mouth to the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“As you so eloquently put into words, I’m obsessed with you.”

When you turned your head, your noses brushed.

“Yeah?” You breathed out. “How much?”

“A ridiculous amount,” he admitted, fixated on your lips, minty breaths mingling.

You smiled, pressing closer until your mouth brushed his.

“Good.”

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace fic #zayne x reader #love and deep space zayne

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zegrasdrysdale · 2 months

Text

[ sober thoughts ] n. hischier

paring: Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary : Nico appears on his best friend’s doorstep after the Stadium Series win and confessions are made

warning(s) : slightly drunk nico, mentions of alcohol (but no actual alcohol consumption involved)

author’s note : pls ignore any typos bc i thought of this while drunk and wrote it while tipsy so i will go back and edit when i am 100% sober. it’s a v short and cute thing that i wanted to write (even tho i am working on like 7 different requests rn)

༺═──────────────═༻

The moment ‘nico 🏒🤍’ appears on her phone screen, she thinks something is wrong. She’s especially worried because it’s nearly two in the morning. Something could be seriously wrong.

The last time they talked, Nico was getting in an Uber to go to the bar after they won the Stadium Series game against the Flyers. That was a half hour after the end of the game and nearly three hours ago at this point.

A very exhausted and confused (Y/N) quickly answers the phone as soon as she processes what’s going on.

“Are you okay?” she asks, voice slurred with sleep. “Do I need to come get you from the bar?”

“I’m outside your apartment building,” he tells her. “Can I please come inside? It’s so cold outside and I just played a game in this weather. Please let me in.”

She rolls over and turns on her bedside lamp before she walks to the window. Outside on the sidewalk stands her best friend and captain of the New Jersey Devils. He smiles up at her and waves. “Oh my God,” she gasps as she puts on a pair of slippers. “Why are you just standing outside my building like that?”

“Because I missed you and wanted to see you,” he tells her as she grabs her keys and leaves her apartment. “It felt very wrong that I wasn’t celebrating with my best friend after one of the most amazing games and one of the most beautiful moments of my career. If I woke you up, I’m sorry.”

Without tripping down any stairs, she says, “It’s okay. I was just worried you were passed out on the side of the road in East Rutherford.” She pushes the main entrance door open. “Yet here you are on my doorstep.”

Nico smiles and stumbles up the steps after he hangs up the phone when he sees her. He trips on the last step. She catches him and he catches himself on the doorway. She can smell the alcohol on his breath because of how close they are to each other, yet her heart races in her chest since they’re so close to each other.

“Are you drunk?” she asks as she backs away from him with a look on her face. “How did you get here? Don’t tell me you drove because I might kill you and your team is going to be left without a captain.”

“I’ve had a few drinks,” he admits to her. “I took an Uber because I did have a few drinks. I didn’t drive here. Don’t worry. I still have brain cells.”

Nico walks into the building in a hoodie and jeans instead of the tracksuit he showed up to MetLife in. She’s happy he is in actual clothes because if he showed up in that tracksuit, she might lose it.

“Why did you come here instead of going home?” she questions as they make their way up to her apartment. “I thought that maybe after the game you’d celebrate with your teammates then go home to sleep.”

They walk into the apartment as soon as she unlocks the door. “I told you that I wanted to come celebrate with my best friend,” he replies. She closes the door behind her. “Especially since I couldn’t get you into the stadium to watch the game. I wanted you to be a part of this day.”

She pouts and sits on the couch as Nico turns on one of the lamps. “Your family flew in for the game,” she says to him. “I shouldn’t take priority over them. I get to see you play all the time. They don’t.”

He sits next to her. Not too close but close enough where she can feel the heat coming off his body. If he were to move his knee, it would bump into hers.

“You’re my family too,” Nico softly says. “I wanted you to be there.”

“I’m your friend, Nico,” she sighs. “I’m not your girlfriend or your wife. I didn’t need to be there.”

It feels like she is trying to convince herself too because sometimes the line blurs. Sometimes she doesn’t know what she is to him. She has to remind herself that they aren’t together, and probably will never be together.

A moment of silence falls over them. She looks at her hands on her lap while she plays with her thumbs. Nico’s big brown eyes never leave her while she avoids looking at him.

Nico sighs and practically whispers, “I wished you were there as my girlfriend.”

Her head snaps up and she blinks at him. “You what?”

“I wished you were at the game as my girlfriend,” Nico repeats. “The entire time I wished that you were at the family skate and sitting in the suite with everyone else’s families. I wished you had one of those cute jackets that the wives and girlfriends had with my number on it.”

She stares at him until he’s done talking. Then she starts to shake her head. “You’re just saying that because you have been drinking,” she replies. “You don’t actually mean that.”

Never once has Nico shown that he wanted to be in any kind of romantic relationship with her. He’s never given her any kind of hint or sign that he wanted to be more than just friends with her.

They’ve known each other since Nico moved to the US in 2017 to play in the NHL and never once did it seem like he wanted something more.

There is no way he means that.

“Drunk words are sober thoughts,” he says.

“Then tell me when you’re sober,” she retorts. “Tell me in the morning if you actually mean it.”

Nico frowns and brushes a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “Schätzli, you have no idea how long I have wanted to tell you that,” he tells her. “I guess I’ll just have to wait until I wake up before I tell you again.”

Almost as if on cue, he yawns. “Go to sleep, Nico,” she says to him. “Tell me whatever you want in the morning. You know where the guest room is but do you need my help in getting there?”

He shakes his head and sinks down against the back of the couch. “I’ll get there eventually,” he replies. “You can go back to sleep.”

With a nod, she stands up. Nico’s eyes are half open so she takes off his shoes and pulls his legs up onto the cushions. She grabs a blanket to throw over him as he lets out soft snores. The alcohol has finally caught up to him and knocked him out.

“You have no idea how long I have wanted to hear you say that you wanted me to be your girlfriend,” she whispers to a sleeping Nico. “All it took you was having a few drinks and winning a big game before you told me how you felt.”

She presses a soft kiss to his temple before she retreats down the hallway to her bedroom just in case he wasn’t actually asleep.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The smell of coffee is the thing that wakes her up in the morning. Not the sunlight or an alarm. Coffee. It takes a second before she remembers that Nico stayed over.

She remembers Nico telling her that he wishes she was at the Stadium Series game as his girlfriend. She has no idea if he remembers that he said that to her.

It’s time to find out.

Slowly, she makes her way out to the kitchen. She finds Nico standing at the coffee machine with his back to the hallway. She yawns and walks into the kitchen area.

“Morning,” she softly says so she doesn’t scare him. He turns his head and looks at her. “You making coffee?”

Nico nods and pours them both a cup. He puts cream in her cup and hands it to her. “I figured we could both use a cup,” he tells her. “Me to get rid of this hangover and you because I woke you up at two in the morning.”

She blows on her coffee before taking a sip. “How much of last night do you remember?” she curiously asks as she leans against the counter beside him.

The moment of silence that follows worries her. He probably doesn’t remember what he said, and she isnt going to remind him if he doesn’t remember.

He takes a sip of his own coffee before he asks, “Are you asking me if I remember telling you that I wish you were my girlfriend? Yes, if that’s the case. I told you that I meant it.”

“And you’re sober?”

“Very,” Nico replies. “And very hungover.”

It surprises her to the point where she almost drops her cup of coffee. Her eyes widen and Nico smiles. “Nico, I could kill you and kiss you at the same time because why did it take you playing in one of the biggest games in your career before you-”

Nico takes the cup of coffee out of her hand while she’s talking then cuts her off by bringing his lips to hers. She gasps in surprise then melts against him as he presses her against the counter. She wraps her arms around his neck and puts her fingers in his hair so he can’t break the kiss.

Never in her life did she think that she would be in her kitchen kissing her best friend of nearly seven years. The thought only occurred in dreams and occasionally during games when she found him attractive, which is really all the time.

This is something she has wanted for two years. Since the moment she realized that she was in love with Nico.

He lifts her up and sits her down on the counter. He stands between her knees and rests his hands on her thighs.

It becomes too much for her and she has to pull back for a second to breathe. Her eyes meet his and finds worry in them. “I just- I don’t think you understand how long I have waited for this,” she breathes out. “Wanted this. Wanted you. I just need a second.”

Nico smiles and pushes her hair behind her ears before he cups her jaw. “I’m such an idiot for waiting so long before I told you,” he replies. “I think I’ve loved you since the moment I met you, Schätzli.” His voice drops to nearly a whisper and his thumbs brush her cheekbones.

“We’re both idiots,” she tells him. “I’m glad you meant it though. I thought you were going to get my hopes up.”

He shakes his head and kisses her nose. “I would never lie to you about loving you.”

“Well I love you too,” she says. “Just so you know.”

Nico laughs and envelopes her in a hug. She smiles and happily accepts the hug.

“I told you that drunk words are sober thoughts.”

“I believe you now.”

༺═──────────────═༻

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#hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey oneshot #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #nico hischier #nico hischer x reader #nico hischier fanfiction #nico hischier fic #nico hischier fluff

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ravenslvt · 1 month

Text

why does your best friend’s brother have to be so hot??

☆ suna rintarou x f!reader! (pt.3)☆

pt.1 pt.2 pt.4 links!!

cw: smut! porn with feelings, fluff!, oral sex f recieving, confessions, alcohol use (responsibly), reader is hot and she knows it, tiny bit of angst but not really, party!, atsumu is annoying.

you stare at yourself in the mirror, cursing trying to put the obnoxious earring backing on.

“here let me help you.” your best friend mumbles, moving your hair and easily putting the jewlery on in place.

“thanks… are you sure it won’t be too cold tonight? maybe the skirt is too much.” you pout, looking over your outfit. the only ‘going out’ clothes you really brought was a short skirt and your favorite top that you’d wear to parties back at college.

it was your last week here at the suna residence, with classes starting up again soon.

so of course, the miya twins decided to reunite everyone at their family home, and throw a party. you were at least thankful it was only a street away so no one had to drive over there.

“you’ll be fine. atsumu’s hosting, i’m sure he’ll offer to warm you up” ami giggles. you roll your eyes. the more eccentric miya twin had always pined after you back in high school. of course you never paid him any mind, your heart was always focused on rintarou.

everytime you’d go to the inarizaki volleyball games back in high school, he’d come up to you with his charming smile. ‘aww, come all this way just to see little ol’ me? how sweet!’ he’d say before his brother would come in and grab him, apologizing for his nagging behavior. what you’d never notice though, was the way rintarou would glare daggers at his friend, always flirting with you right in front of him.

you wouldn’t hear their conversations in the locker rooms back then either.

‘i think i’m gonna ask her out, what do you think, suna?’ the blonde setter comments, smirking at the brunette who sat on the bench on his phone.

he just scoffed, sounding unconvinced. ‘good luck with that.’

‘hey! what’s that supposed to mean?’ he pouts, his ego taking a blow.

‘just saying, doesn’t seem like she’s that interested in you.’ suna replies, taking a sip from his water bottle.

‘oh yeah? sounds like you’re just jealous, mister.’ atsamu’s lips quirk back up into his usual smirk.

rin’s eye twitches.

‘no way. she’s like a sister to me.’

“ami you liar, it’s cold as fuck!” you shiver slightly, holding your arms to your chest as you step out the front door, rintarou locking it behind you three.

“consequences of dressing like a hottie. some liquor will warm you right up” she beams at you, making you sigh. “i guess” you squirm uncomfortably in your outfit. the second you walked downstairs, rintarou’s eyes went directly to your bare legs in the skirt. he still seemed so nervous around you even after he’s quite literally been inside of you (twice).

“let’s go before atsumu drinks everything and starts challenging people to sing offs.” the older suna says, walking ahead of you guys on the sidewalk.

“jeez, why’s he in a mood” ami mutters to you, you just shrug, eyeing him.

rin wasn't too excited at the thought of watching guys fawn over you all night while he had to stand back and not be able to do a thing about it.

once you approach the house, you could hear music playing from the backyard. rintarou knocks on the door first, texting someone to let them know you were there.

the door opens a few seconds later, a grey haired twin smiling at you three. “look who it is! long time no see girls. suna.” he gives the man a side hug, they still saw each other from time to time after college. you noticed the way osamu’s eyes lit up when ami smiled back at him. your eyebrows quirked.

“everyone’s scattered around, mostly in the back. drinks in the kitchen, beer pong in the garadge. the usual.” he lets you guys in pointing to each area as if you all hadn’t been there before.

“thanks, samu! c’mon” ami grabs your arm, giving osamu a kirt wave before dragging you into the kitchen where a few familiar faces stood around. you two pour yourselves drink after drink, conversing with some girls you ran into.

“atsumu!” one of the girls waves behind you. you hear him approach, turning around to face him. rintarou stood across the room with the osamu, keeping an eye once he saw the blonde come up to you.

“if it isn’t my favorite girl! how are you, gorgeous?” he slings a strong arm around your shoulder. if you weren’t in such a good mood you probably would have shrugged him off.

“hi, miya” you play into it, giving him a friendly smile. but still, rintarou lingered in the back of your mind.

“miya? ouch, no need to be so formal to the future love of your life.” he puts a dramatic hand to his heart, as if he’d been stabbed. you just roll your eyes, moving his arm and stepping away from him. he puts on his usual pout, ignoring the other girls who were trying to get his attention.

“you’re funny. should be a comedian instead of an athlete.” you comment, taking a sip from the plastic cup in your hand. you ignore the familiar burning sensation of the alcohol in your throat.

“i think that’s the only compliment you’ve ever given me, i’m flattered.”

you roll your eyes at his antics. you should’ve expected this from him.

rin watches from the side, downing his drink a little too fast.

“don’t let atsumu rile you up, man. dude’s just trying to rebound from his last girlfriend who dumped him.” osamu reassures the tall middle blocker, noticing his glaring at his brother.

“rebound? he’s trying to hook up with her or something?” suna’s grip on the cup tightens at the thought of you even being near atsumu in that way.

“who knows, he’s been crushing on her since like second year. why do you care so much anyways? i thought you saw her like a- oh.” his eyes soften. he got it. the time he got lunch with suna a week ago, noticing the hickies on his neck. him mentioning that you were staying at their house over the break.

you two were fucking.

“jesus dude, does your sister know?” he questions, his voice getting a little quieter.

“huh? what, no. we’re both adults, i don’t see why…” rintarou drags on, noticing the way the blonde twin was getting closer and closer to you.

“then why do you- hey! where are you going?” the grey haired twin calls after him, but he just ignores him.

your eyes meet rin’s as he approaches. a hint of relief washing over you. osamu took this chance to chat up ami.

“what’s goin on, dude?” suna puts a hand on the setter’s shoulder.

“suna! missed seein’ you around!” the tipsy man gives his attention to his old friend, giving you a chance to slip away. you give ami some excuse like ‘need some fresh air.’ she just nods, making sure you’re good before continuing her conversation with the calmer twin. you smile at the way her face lit up when talking to him.

you sit on a loungchair by the pool, far enough from everyone. you pull out your phone, giggling at the thought of how mad rintarou would be realizing his sister and bestfriend were flirting. it was kind of ironic though, given your own situation.

your mind started to wander. were you wrong for openly lying to your bestfriend who you adored so dearly? you’d liked rin for years, but since you guys started hooking up, you’ve had a guilty conscience.

what even were you two? you weren’t dating, but more than friends. the stolen kisses you two shared when ami wasn’t in the room. the looks you give each other over dinner or when passing in the hallway. it would all be over in a weeks time. would he move on? find someone else to occupy his time?

“what are you staring at?” the low voice you know oh to well cuts through your thoughts. you realize you spaced out, staring into the changing colors of the pool lights. suna takes a seat next to you on the spacious chair.

“nothing, just thinking.” you shrug, bringing your gaze back to him.

“what are you doing out here?” you add, picking up your drink from the floor and taking a sip. he gives you a small smile.

“couldn’t let you sit out here all alone. especially if tsumu tried hitting on you again.” he watches as your lips meet the cup. your eyebrow quirked.

“hmm. someone jealous?” you smirk, placing your drink back down on the floor, your head already dizzy from all the alcohol you’ve already had. plus your close proximity to the man in front of you did not help.

he snorts. “of him? no way. if you wanted him you would’ve gone for it years ago. plus-“ he leans a little closer. “-he’s not the one who got to fuck you.” oh the liquor made him bold.

it was true, he wasn’t jealous of the setter himself. he was more jealous at the thought of anyone else having you. especially when you leave in a week.

“y’know, tokyo’s only like, three hours away from where i go.” he says. he refuses to look away from you. you just look so good.

“what are you implying?” you cross one leg over the other, leaning a little back to get a better look at him.

“i-i don’t know. just mentioning it.” you scoff at his sudden dry response. your heart feeling a small pang of hurt from remembering what atsumu told you just a few minutes ago before rin came over to save you from his nagging.

‘aw that’s cute. looking over at suna over there. y’know he told me he sees you as a little sister. such a sweet guy looking out for you like that.’ the worst part is he wasn’t even trying to be sarcastic or spiteful, just genuinely praising suna.

“right…” you sigh, standing up to leave. before you can even turn around he reaches for your hand.

“hey, what’s wrong?” his voice is full of worry. your shoulders slump, he stands to meet your height. he still held onto your hand, his thumb rubbing gently over your knuckles.

“i-i’m just drained. think i’m gonna walk back home.” your skin tingles at the way he’s so gentle with you. compared to the way he was in sports.

“let me walk you.”

“no, that’s not necessary rin.”

“you’re drunk, i’m not gonna let you walk home alone.”

“i’m not even that-“ you start, but he cuts you off with a stern scold of your own name.

“fine… but let me text your sister first.” you sigh, sending her a quick ‘don’t feel too god, rintarou’s gonna take me home. are you ok? we can stay if you want.’

she sends back a text that makes you giggle. ‘oh girl, do not worry about me’ you look up and spot her with osamu, she gives you a thumbs up. you knew you were right. she’s been wanting to hop on the samu train since high school. glad she finally got the chance.

‘don’t wait up. probably gonna stay here tonight. do NOT tell my brother he will murder me and samu both.’

you laugh at your phone, suna gives you a confused look.

“what’s so funny?”

“oh, nothing. let’s go.”

you two snuck out the back gate, not wanting to draw any attention. it was bad enough you two were walking out together, a lingering mark still on his neck from just a few days ago.

“you still cold?” he asks, your shoulders brushing as you walk down the dark street.

“nah, ami was right. tequila warms me right up.” you say. plus the close proximity to him kept you warm, his body heat radiating from under his jacket. it stayed silent for a few moments before you speak up.

“was… was atsumu telling the truth?” you say, looking up at him.

“what did that idiot say this time?” he gives a small laugh.

“that you think of me as a sister.” this makes him stop dead in his tracks. he looks at you nervously.

“do you really think we’d have done all we did if i thought that?” he says, pushing a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. you shrug, making him sigh.

“i said that shit in high school. before…”

“before what?” you peer up at him, his callused hands moving to cup your face.

“before i realized i… had feelings for you.” he confesses, making your eyes widen.

when rintarou first realized he was in love with you, it was a little later than when you developed your own crush on him. it was your eighteenth birthday, suna was nineteen and in his first year of college. ami threw you a suprise party at her house, inviting all your friends. you wore your prettiest little outfit. ami even convinced her uncle to get you guys some beers, needless to say, the birthday girl drank most of them.

when the night went on, you spotted rin nursing his own beer on the couch. you come up to him, sitting maybe a little too close than you meant to.

“why’re you sulking here by yourself. s’my birthday! i command you to have some fun, rintarou.” the way you said his name made something stir inside of him. your body faced his, you didn’t even notice the way your dress rode up on your thighs, or the way his eyes immediately went down to them.

“how’s it feel to finally be an adult?” he says, forcing his eyes back on yours.

“s’alright. kinda anticlimactic but i’m glad m’here. glad you’re here.” you admit, the alcohol clearly making you more bold. his eyes widen a little. you weren’t just his little sister’s best friend, you were a smart, funny, beautiful woman. he’s always known you were pretty, it was obvious. but he’d never had a genuine conversation with you like this.

you two talked for half an hour. everytime you’d smile or laugh at something he said, his heart beat would quicken in his chest.

your head whipped when you heard a call of your name from one of your friends. “c’mon! we got you a cake!”

he never forgot the smile you had on your face when your friends put this much effort into your birthday. it just proved what a good, special person you were. he found himself not wanting you to leave, wanting you to stay talking with him. the nagging pain in his heart when you got up to leave, giving him a cute little wave and a ‘talk to you later!’

then it all clicked.

years of glaring at any boy who approached you, smiling whenever he’d see you in the stands of his games cheering him on, the small tingle of excitment in his chest when he knew you were coming over to see his sister.

he’d loved you for so long, and he never even realized it. not until you left for college, leaving him with his own feelings to sort through. so when he found out you were staying with them over the break, god was he estatic on the inside.

you two stand only a few houses down from his. you could easily walk over and continue the conversation there, but he needed you. needed you to know how much he truly cared.

“oh” a hint of nerves crawled up your spine. your head spins. you’d been this close so many times before, but behind closed doors. except that one time in the kitchen.

but he held you in the middle of the street, not caring that anyone could walk out of their house and see you two. his forehead presses against yours, breathing in your air.

you didn’t know what to say, so you just lean up on your tipy toes and peck his lips, making him smile. he wraps his arms around your waist, not a chance of letting you pull away from him.

“rin, someone might see.” you giggle into the kiss, he just shakes his head gently.

“i don’t give a fuck, let them.”

you stand in his room. it hadn’t changed very much since the very few times you’d peeked in walking past it before. a few hoodies laid out in his chair from when he was deciding what to wear earlier.

he had a few posters on his walls, some of random volleyball teams and even some random bands. the room smelled like him.

“here, drink some water.” he walks back in, closing the door behind him as he hands you a clear plastic bottle. you take it, your hand brushing with his own. you seat yourself on the edge of his bed, tapping your foot against the carpeted floor anxiously. you take a few sips to relieve your nerves.

“you look really good tonight.” his voice cuts through the silence. your head perks up, eyes meeting his.

“so i don’t look good every other night?” you give him a playful smile. he scoffs, hopping on the bed next to you, making the mattress squeak.

“you know what i mean.” his large hand finds your own, playing with you fingers.

this was probably the first time in the last few weeks you’d been alone for this long together without fucking.

“osamu knows about… us.” his hand doesn’t leave your own. your eyebrow quirks.

“you told him?” you softly ask, not angry or demanding. if anything, you were somewhat flattered he wanted people to know.

“he figured it out. mentioned i was ‘oogling’ you too hard” he gives a small chuckle, squeezing your hand gently. his small little acts of affection always made you relax into his touch. you lead your head on his strong shoulder, sighing.

“you think he’ll tell ami?” you peek up at him, moving a peice of his dark hair away from his eyes. he just shrugs.

“probably not. even if he does it wouldn’t be the worst thing.” he kisses your forehead.

“i’d rather her find out when i’m hours away. i don’t need to be murdered in my sleep for lying to her.” you reply. he just laughs.

“c’mon. you’re the only girl she’d ever approve of me being with. she loves you, my parents love you, i-“

you cut him off with a kiss to his surprisingly soft lips, pulling him in by the nape of his neck.

he smiles into the kiss, his hands going to your waist to bring you closer.

“c’mere” he grabs your hips, helping you straddle his lap, facing him. you hold back a gasp when you feel his half hard dick

“someone’s impatient…” you mumble into his mouth, he bites your lip in retort. you try to pull back but his mouth just follows yours, hands gripping your waist for dear life so you didn’t fall right off his lap.

“look so pretty in your little skirt-“ one of his hands reaches under your skirt, groping your ass through your panties, making you gasp.

“-wanted to drag you in the bathroom and fuck you over the counter.” his kisses go down your jaw, sucking new marks into your neck and collarbones.

“jesus, rin.” your voice is needy. you unconsciously grind your hips into his, needing some some sort of friction. the action made him groan.

your breath catches in your throat when he switches your positions, you laying on your back on his bed while he stands over you. his eyes go to your lifted skirt, holding back a groan when he sees the growing wet patch on the fabric of your panties.

he breathes out your name, looking up at you while slowly kissing down your exposed thighs, kneeling down. you squirm under him, he just gives your thigh a threatening squeeze. “stay still, pretty.” his nose finds your clothed clit, making you gasp.

“y-you don’t have to-“

“shush. i want to, so badly.” he assures, licking your clothed cunt. the fabric adding to the stimulation, making you grip his sheets underneath you.

he slides your soaked panties to the side, the cool air hitting your now exposed pussy.

“always so pretty for me.” he immediately delves into your cunt, lapping up and down you folds before focusing on your clit. you let out mewls of his name, gripping at his dark locs of hair.

he brings you closer to him, his arms locking under your thighs so he’s holding you up to his mouth. he could do this forever.

he moans into your wetness, the sounds of your pleasure making him practically get off. he slowly grinded his own hips into the bed, but not letting himself cum unless it was with you.

you’d never felt like this before. the constant laps of his hot tongue compared to his mouth sucking on your clit making you clench your thighs around him. he groaned at a certain harsh tug to his hair, the vibrations on your pussy only adding to the pleasure.

what really got you close to the edge though was when his tongue prods itself into your tight hole, making you try and pull away from how overwhelmed you were with how good it felt.

“f-fuck, rin, s’too much.” your thighs start to shake around his head, but he only speeds up. his nose catching on your clit while his tongue dips into you, pumping in and out. you let out a loud moan when you start to cum around his tongue, suna not even daring to stop. if all he could eat for the rest of his life was your pussy, he’d be between your legs all day everyday.

your hips roll into his face, wetness coating his chin and nose. you have to push his head away when it starts to get too much. he pulls away, panting. he wipes his mouth with his sleeve, crawling up on top of you to kiss you. you sigh into the kiss when you taste yourself on his tounge. it got you aroused all over again.

“rinnn” you whine, hands tugging at his hoodie.

“what’s up, baby?” he kisses your cheek, a smug smirk on his face looking down at you. he looked absolutely heavenly looking over you, hands on either side of your head.

“need you” you pout up at him.

“what do you need, hmm?” he sits up on his knees to pull his hoodie over his head, his bare chest and toned abs on display. you practically moan just at the sight of him. you’d never get bored of this view.

“you- your cock… please” your hands go straight to his abs, kissing down his pecs and stomach. he chuckles at you, hand smoothing down your hair.

“want me t’make you feel good?” he pushes your shoulders back down so your back is completley pressed against the sheets. you nod frantically.

“anything for my gorgeous girl.” he slides his pants and boxers off, throwing them somewhere on the floor. while he does this you take your chance to rip your top off, along with your bra.

he crawls back over you, slotting himself between your legs. you look at him expectedly as he pulls out his already hard cock. pre cum already leaking from his raging pink tip.

he lines himself up with you, impatiently siding himself into your needy hole.

you’d never felt him from this angle before, the way he was perfectly slotted inside of you.

he slowly moves his hips, cock sliding deliciously in and out of you. your eyes screw shut.

“g-god rin, feels so good, fuck!” your hands go straight to his shoulders, not caring how badly your manicured nails were dragging down his arms.

but it wasn’t enough for him. he grabs your legs, hoisting them over his shoulders as he pumps even deeper.

“there we go. so f-fucking perfect, baby.” his breath hitched as his pace quickens, fucking into you at the perfect speed and angle.

you let out the most borderline pornographic moan when the head of his cock hits that spongey spot deep inside of you. his hand goes to pinch and tug at your nipples, making you mewl.

“rinn!” you cry out as he pounds into you relentlessly. this was by far your favorite angle with him.

“right here, pretty.” he wants nothing more than to reach down and kiss you, but he didn’t wanna hurt your poor legs. plus you felt so good he didn’t wanna move. so instead his thumb goes to your slick pussy, rubbing and pinching at your clit.

“so fuckin’ messy.” he grunts, your cunt practically trapping him in. you watch as he spits down where you two meet, adding extra lubricant. the sight made you feel so dirty, but so fucking good.

his eyes watched the way his cock entered you so insanley perfectly. like you were made to take him. the wet noises coming from your arousal whenever he thrusts in and out and the sounds of your mixed moans filled the quiet room.

his head rolls back and he groans, he wanted to kiss you so bad.

“fuck- switch. want you to ride me.” you pout when he pulls out, leaving you feeling so empty.

you sit up, as he sits leaning against the headboard. he gives his cock a few pumps when he watches you climb on him, hands on his shoulders as you line his cock up with you. his hands hold your waist for support as you sink yourself down onto him.

you let out a moan when he’s fully seated inside of you. you move off of him almost all the way, bouncing yourself up and down his cock.

“oh-“ you moan as he snaps up his own hips to meet your own. you hear as his head slams against the wooden headboard with a grunt.

he grabs your throat, bringing you in to kiss him. it was messy and needy. all tongue and teeth at how fucked out you both were. he pulls back, his hand still lingering on your throat as the roll of your hips gets faster and faster.

his eyes focus on the marks he left on your neck, running a finger over the fresh dark purple hickies lingering all over your neck and chest. then his eyes go to your bouncing tits, grabbing them and bringing one into his mouth.

you groan when he bites down.

“rin- can’t anymore. g’nna cum” you whine out, your hips getting tired and messy. he sits up more straight, grabbing your hips and slamming up into you, making your eyes roll back.

“cum all over my cock, baby. told ya i’d make you feel good.” sweat beaded up by his brow, he was focusing on his thrusts.

“c-cum inside me rin! please, wanna feel you inside.” you plead. brain feeling like it’s short circuiting, the only thing running through your brain was how good his cock felt pumping inside of you.

he kisses you as you moan into his mouth, cuming around him and squeezing his dick. he pulses inside of you, warm cum filling you up as you share eachothers moans. your kiss goes from rushed and hot to sweet and tender as you come down from your orgasms. neither one of you makes a move to pull away, his cock softening inside of you.

“again?” you pant, kissing his cheek and looking at him with pleading eyes.

you yelp when he pinches your waist, but it turns into a small whine when you feel him get hard inside of you again.

“you’re gonna kill me, gorgeous.”

the clock read 6:28 AM. the sun was barely rising, you lie on rintarou’s chest as you two peacefully slept, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. his fluffy blanket wrapped snug around you.

the front door quietly creeks open, and shuts.

“shit that was loud as fuck” a hushed high pitched voice whispers. the younger suna sneaks up the stairs, shoes in hand, expecting to find you asleep in her bedroom. but the room was empty. the house was silent, her brother’s door closed.

hmm, that’s weird. you guys came back from the party, right?

ami knocks on her brother’s door, loudly in attempt to wake him up.

“hellooo?” she asks where you are, opening the door abruptly. “did you guys not come back from the party-“

“what the fuck?!”

a/n: need suna (requests) i love this man.

masterlist

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nysrage · 9 months

Text

Options, Aran Ojiro.

you weren’t used to dealing with someone one who had as many options as you, especially not with anyone you dealt with behind closed doors. pnd inspired lol.

cw: smut, sneaky linksss, texts, jealousy, cursing, arguing, pet names (baby, ma, pa, daddy), dirty talk, missionary (aran loves to look at your pretty face).

it’s homecoming week at your university, the streets and sidewalks of campus are filled with more than the normal amount of students. house parties being planned around every corner, and food trucks and goody stands wherever you turn. it was a weekend to be alive but for you it turned out to be a weekend full of surprises. the night was still young while you put on the final touches of accessories to pull your outfit together. snapping a couple mirror pics away as you waited for your friends to finish their pregame rituals. “one more shot then we gotta go!” your best friend gizelle giggled, alcohol already coursing through her system and you haven’t even left for the party yet.

you laughed to yourself, continuing to scroll through your phone and weeding out the pictures you didn’t like until a text from a certain someone came across your screen. a smile curving into your lips as you read over the message.

‘can’t wait to see you, ain seen yo fine ass all day.’

“c’mon y/n! take a shot with me!” sending a quick reply you stood, waving your hands in refusal, a flustered smile on your face. “you know i can’t hold liquor.” gizelle smacked her lips, grabbing and pulling you towards the island. “bitch it’s homecoming! throw it back.” placing a shot glass with a slice lime on its rim in your hand. filled with nothing but her fav alcohol, don julio. you timidly lift the glass to your lips. gizelle playfully rolling her eyes and pushing the cup to your lips for you to down, watching your face scrunch in disgust with a giggle. “now we’re ready t’go.”

soon as the door opened the smells of alcohol, weed, and other substances filled your nose. clouded over ceilings and music thumping from the speakers while you and your girls weaved through the crowd straight towards the kitchen. where different bowls of punch made by the greeks were lined up on the table, “so what y’all feeling? i’m leaning towards oil, centaur piss or tiddy milk.” your friend gizelle grabbed a couple cups, you laughed reading over the labels. “greeks always come up with the freakiest shit for drinks.”

you settled for the tiddy milk, joining your friends who were drunkenly rapping and dancing to the music. sipping on the pina colada flavor drink as you glanced over the crowded room. eyes being met with low ones that were already on you. chilling against the wall in rotation, black fit contrasting nice against his deep caramel skin. your mystery boo, aran ojiro. he gives you a smirk and a acknowledging wink, leaving you flustered with a small smile. trying your best to focus on your friends but you kept looking back over your shoulder, body feigning to be by his side. the only thing grabbing your attention is your phone flashing and buzzing in your hand with a thread of texts.

‘you look so good’

‘can’t wait to have yo sexy ass to myself tn.’

‘pretty ass’

‘you givin’ me them looks, must be ready to go’

you give him a glance, aran practically eye fucking you from across the room as he took a long pull of the blunt. you throw him a small innocent nod, your friends picking up on the signs and having a silent conversation between themselves. exchanging looks of ‘she finna leave us for some dick’ and longs sips of their drinks in agreement ‘mhmm’. gizelle finally speaking up with quick bump to the side. “leaving soon?” you suck your teeth and roll your eye’s playfully, ignoring your friends teasing to focus on your boo. aran texting you a quick ‘bet’ pushing himself off the wall and getting ready to make his exit until a girl walked up on him, tugging on his shirt to bring him closer with a smile as she spoke with him.

your eyebrow raised with a scoff, eyeing the interaction from across the room. blood beginning to boil at how long the two have been talking. “ain’t nobody worth leavin’ for.” you say to your friend, turning your back on aran, setting your phone on do not disturb and focusing on the group of girl for the rest of the night. trying your best to not let someone you weren’t even exclusively dating get to you, but your friends definitely noticed the slight shift. “you good girl?”

you nodded, deciding to call it a night. you weren’t one to dampen the mood and mope around your friends. “m’ just tired, been out all day..” gizelle nodded, not asking anymore questions and dropping you off to your dorm, ready to listen whenever your ready to share. the drive back was quiet but comfortable, soft music playing through the speakers. you just staring out at the road post in your thoughts. you didn’t understand what was going on with you. yeah you liked aran, but the traits and behaviors you were throwing you off. some were good and some were bad, like jealousy.

an emotion you never really displayed until now, not even with previous flings or boyfriends. you never really had to compete for anyone’s attention, so where you found yourself now was was new.. and embarrassing. “see you tomorrow luv.” you blew her a kiss, grabbing your things and hopping out the car. walking toward the complex entrance, you found aran waiting for you. ignoring him you walked straight to the door, searching in your purse for your keys. “wassup, so you ignoring me now?” you shook your head, back still turned to him as you placed your id on the reader, unlocking the door. “didn’t think you cared whether i ignored you or not..

“you seemed to have a good convo with ole girl at the party..”

“so you gone be like this over a girl talkin’ to me?” aran raised a brow in confusion, turning you around to face him. you gave him little time though, pulling out your phone and texting your friends you made it home. “aran i’m wayyy too drunk for this conversation right now.” but you were interrupted by him snatching your phone out of your hand.

“man look..” he sighed, placing your phone in his pocket. “m’ not about to do this childish bullshit with you, so what’s up with you.” you shrugged your shoulders, finally facing him with a facade of no emotion. “it doesn’t matter, aran. none of this shit matters.” aran’s face flashing with confusion, taken back by your response. “you could wake up one morning deciding to ghost me for that girl who was feeling all up on you tonight, or any of the options in yo roster and it wouldn’t be shit i could do about it. so why would you care if i’m mad huh?!”

“so you wanna pull that card? you know i ain’t even on that timing.” aran sucked his teeth, jaw clenching with agitation. “everytime i show you any type of progress to something more YOU RUN. that shit confusing!” you close your arms around yourself, embarrassed that he truly paid attention to you and your actions. “whatever aran, can i just get my phone.” he scoffed, running his tatted hand down his face with a sarcastic laugh leaving his lips. “now it’s whatever, shit don’t feel good do it?”

“you the first girl in a while that i felt was fucking with me for me and not some basketball wife fantasy.” aran breathed out, pausing for a second before going on. “you ain’t gotta fight for no spot that already reserved for you ma.” head falling down in defeated with his hands in his pockets.

“but you think i’m privileged or this lil boy who playing games..”

“i don’t think your either aran..” you slowly approached him, engulfing him in a tight hug. aran nuzzled into your neck, hands wrapped tight around your waist as he melted into the sweet smell of your perfume. nothing no longer exchanged because everything had already be said with those few words. aran pulled back, looking into your eyes before closing your lips in a deep, heated kiss. eyes darting all over his face once he pulled back, “still staying with me tonight? so i can hold and kiss on you.”

“hm i don’t know.” hiding your smirk in his neck, trying to continue your pouty attitude, aran smacked his teeth rubbing his hands all over your curves. squeezing on the soft flesh of your ass. “c’mon mama, come home with me.” you sighed, giving him a soft smile. mind set on giving him a hard time the rest of the night as he tries to make it up to you but not even five minutes passed in his room before you were puddy in his arms.

your anklets dangling next your ear while aran folded you up in his bed, ready to split you open. your whines sounding off the walls as his heavy dick slapped down on your throbbing clit. “looka that wet ass pussy..” running it through your slit and teasing your entrance with his tip before sinking into you deep, eyes rolling back with a moan as he caressed your sweet spot within. aran watching the white ring form around the base from how eagerly you sucked him in. keeping that steady pace that had you leaking for him, your hand pushing at his pelvis to keep him from going too deep, only for him to remove it and place it on your lower belly. pushing it down for you to feel him fucking you in ways you’ve never felt before. “feel me huh? m’ all yours mama, this yo dick.”

“ain’t no reason to trip”

your back arching into his at the deep slow pace he maintained, making sure you feel every single inch he gave you. stretching and filling you full while his thumb circled your clit and setting the fire in the pit of your stomach ablaze, legs shaking in his hold. “o-ohhh my g-goddd, paaa.” his eyes flickering from your pooling mess to your glazed over eyes, moaning at how you clenched down on him. “i know baby, i know..”

oncoming orgasm swelling your walls and trying to push him out. “open up for daddy.” slowly hardening his thrust, hips slamming against your pelvis with precision. moans catching in your throat as aran watches your pretty brown breast bounce in his hold, nipples hard and erect from the cool air against your scorching skin. aran wrapping a strong hand around your neck leaning in and giving you a sloppy kiss, slipping his tongue in your mouth and swallowing every moan you let out for him. aran pulled back with a smirk, lips red and wet from the kiss. “you still mad at me..?” you came hard, creamy arousal coating his dick and pelvis. aran slowly stroking you through your orgasm with a smile.

“nah, you ain’t mad..”

1K notes · View notes

lnfours · 8 months

Text

daylight | l.n

summary: Hi lovely, you write Lando SO well😍 I’m not sure if you’re taking requests, but I can’t stop thinking about Lando and a drivers sister (if you have the time please). Maybe she’s visiting friends in London and they go on a night out. She gets super drunk, loses her friends, doesn’t know her way back to their place and goes to the only place she does know, Lando’s. Except he’s fast asleep and she wakes him up trying to politely break into his house and he’s like all sleepy and cute and looks after her and asks her to call him next time and he’ll pick her up Then the next time it happens, she actually calls him and it’s just fluffy af - from anon <3. also my requests for lando are open! feel free to send your ideas my way !

warnings: fluff, leclerc!reader, language, drinking, and overall lando just being protective

masterlist | ask box | listen

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

the night air was cold in london, making you regret your choice in attire for tonight as you hurried your footsteps on the sidewalk, heels clicking against the pavement.

you had decided that tonight was going to be a fun night out, you and your girls were going to go to the club, have a few drinks and a good time, but no. somehow, someway, you ended up getting stranded at the club, no one coming to get you or tell you where they went.

so, with a dead phone, you headed in the direction of the only place you knew how to get to: lando’s.

the two of you had been in a weird ‘will we, won’t we?’ stage for the last year or so. he was the one you were closest with. the one who, undeniably, made you feel like a teenager falling in love all over again.

you made the next right, ignoring the aching in your feet as you reached his front steps. the mclaren sitting in the driveway letting you know he was home. you knocked on the door, and after a few minutes with no noise on the other side, you huffed.

you reached into the flower pot on the step, grabbing the spare key to the front door. you put it in the lock and twisted it, letting out a sigh of relief when the lock clicked open. you pushed the door open softly, tossing the key back into the flower pot before stepping inside.

your heels clicked loudly on the hardwood floor and you immediately winced before you shut and locked the door behind you. you stepped out of your heels, becoming a deer in headlights when the lights turned on all of a sudden.

“y/n?” lando asked, placing the golf club against the wall. you gave him a tight lipped smile in return.

“sorry,” you said, “the girls left the club without me, my phones dead, and your house was the only place i knew how to get to.”

he furrowed his eyebrows, “you walked eight blocks from the club? alone, in the dark, and tipsy?”

you bit your bottom lip, “yeah, guess so.”

he ran a hand over his face, trying to fight off the thought of everything what could’ve happened to you, “just… please, please call me next time. i don’t care where you are, what time it is, nothing. i’ll always come get you.”

his words made your stomach do flips as he held out his pinky for you, making you smile as you locked your fingers together. he pulled you closer, letting you wrap your arms around him in a hug.

“miss me?” you joked.

“mhm,” he said, “definitely didn’t miss you breaking into my house.”

you smiled up at him, “you definitely missed that.”

“whatever you say, love,” the smile still playing at his lips, “c’mon, let’s get you some clothes.”

you nodded, following him up the stairs and into his bedroom. he flipped on the light switch, making his way to his closet as he fished something out for you. he grabbed an older mclaren hoodie and some sweatpants, passing them to you as you sat on his bed.

“here you go,” he mumbled, clearly still sleepy, “you can sleep in here if you want.”

you nodded, heading towards the bathroom to change. you threw on the clothes he gave you, feet padding against the wooden floor as you pulled the sleeves of the hoodie over your hands. he opened the blankets as you climbed into bed next to him.

“thanks for letting me stay,” you smiled over at him, head resting against his pillow.

“didnt have a choice, you literally broke in.” he smiled back at you, reaching over and brushing a piece of hair from your face.

you rolled your eyes playfully, “then maybe you should hide your spare key better.”

“nah,” he scrunched his nose, “i think i might leave it there, yknow, for whenever you’re in town.”

you leaned into his touch, “i missed you.”

“i know,” a smug smile on his face, “i missed you too.”

“then kiss me,” you mumbled, grabbing the neck of his hoodie and pulling him towards you. he smiled as he situated himself over top of you, arms pinning your head to the pillow as he leaned down and brushed his nose against yours.

“missed me that bad, huh?”

“like crazy,” you breathed.

“and if your brothers know you’re here?”

“i don’t want to think about my brothers right now,” you mumbled, “just fucking kiss me, lando.”

he complied this time, cupping your face in his hand as he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. his lips moved against yours and he sighed contently when your fingers ran through his messy curls.

the sound that fell from your lips was like music to his ears as his lips moved from yours and attached to your neck, “if you coming here means i get to see you in my clothes more often, then please come more often.”

you smiled, “race weekends not enough for you?”

“baby, i could never get enough of you.”

you smiled as he pressed more kisses to your neck, “lan,”

he hummed against your skin, letting you continue, “i love you.”

he stopped what he was doing, eyes meeting yours as he came back to be face to face with you. a bright smile sat on his face, his pupils blown, and curls a mess. he looked so pretty like this.

he rested his chin on your chest, “i love you, too.”

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

the sound of his phone ringing made him drop the towel he was drying his hair with, your name and photo lighting up his screen. he swiped the button over, pressing the phone to his ear.

“hello?”

“hi!” your slurred words echoed through the phone, making him smile. he could hear the group of girls in the background asking who was on the phone, “i’m on the phone with my boyfriend! shut up!”

he chuckled, “you okay, baby?”

“yeah, no i’m good! im great!” your voice was barely audible over the loud music, “the girls are heading to a different bar, but i’m drunk and i want cuddles,”

he chuckled, putting you on speaker as he put his shirt on, “i’m on my way.”

“you’re the best!” he could practically hear your smile as he jogged down the stairs, ignoring the questioning look from max on the couch. he tugged his shoes on, “i love you.”

“i love you, too, baby,” he said, “i’ll see you in a little bit, okay?”

“okay,” you said, “see you soon.”

and he kept his promise, smiling as you walked out of the club. you spotted him leaning against the door of his car, smiling and bidding a goodbye to the rest of the group as they climbed into the uber to go to the next bar.

his hands found their home on your hips, yours wrapping around his neck, “hi,”

“hi,” he smiled, “hungry?”

you nodded, “starving.”

he took your hand into his, opening the door for you, “alright, c’mon.”

you sat down in the passenger side, letting him close the door for you before he got in on his side. he grabbed your hand over the center console, you pressed the back of his hand to your lips.

“i love you.” you mumbled against his skin.

“i love you, too, baby.”

1K notes · View notes

chaotic-mystery · 10 months

Text

Room 77 | J.M.

ꨄ Pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

ꨄ Summary: It was a great plan at first to carpool with Joel & have him drive to your dad’s vacation house, until it wasn’t.

ꨄ CW: SMUT ! 18+ MINORS DNI! one bed trope!, age gap (readers like mid 20s Joel’s like early 50s idk) mean Joel at first, sloppy sleepy sex, reader be havin those daydreams about Joel, spitting, choking, unprotected sex, slight fingering, cream pie, cockwarming, dirty talkkk, slight use of the name daddy, pet names.

ꨄ WC: 3K

(No outbreak!au, no Sarah!au )

Read part two here

“Please say something..” you muttered and sniffled softly. Your dads best friend, Joel, sat in utter disbelief and annoyance. “I fuckin’ told you we should’ve taken your damn car, but you don’t listen. Here we are, having to find a cheap motel for the night because my truck can’t handle the rain.” He threw the truck in reverse and backtracked until he found the motel he noticed hours ago when he flew by. The idea of carpooling with him sounded good in theory up until this happened.

“I’m sorry, okay? You don’t have to make me feel bad about it. Can you just calm down, please?” You questioned and looked at him with your beautiful eyes that were just oh so hard to say no to. It took a few seconds of Joel staring at them for him to shrug you off slightly and shake his head.

“Well, better head inside and get some sleep, rain’ll be over soon and we’ll head back out.” Joel muttered and looked your way momentarily before clearing his throat. “Fine. I’ll pay you back when we get to town, promise.” You grabbed your purse off the middle of the seat and opened the door, the rain instantly coating the inside of the door panel. Joel grumbled as he made his way into the rain, covering his head with his coat as best as he could with one hand as he reached his other hand towards you to help walk you to the sidewalk. “I got it, s’fine” you brushed passed his invitation and stood under the awning to shake off as much water as you could from your coat. The wind mixed with the rain sent a shiver down your spine, your hair dripping water across your face. Joel shook off his jacket and ran a hand through his hair and slicked it back. “Jus’ wait here, I’ll get us sorted” he handed over his jacket for you to hold onto so it didn’t drip all over the floor inside as he talked to the lady at the front desk.

You watched from the front window of the shabby building, Joel’s arms at his side going in the air. His head was shaking from side to side and the lady had an apologetic look in her face, you knew something wasn’t going his way. Suddenly Joel was walking to the door and pushing it open to you, sighing loudly. “They’ve only got one room left for tonight.” You looked at him in confusion, “That’s fine? Two beds, it’ll be fine.” He stared at you with a blank look on his face, almost masking the annoyance completely. “One bed.” Joel looked away and rubbed his coarse beard in frustration. Part of him was hoping you’d freak out and barge in there to demand a separate room or one with two beds, but the other part was secretly hoping you wouldn’t. Your eyebrows raised as you stared at the bushes behind Joel, nodding slowly, “Oh…okay. Well um…we can make that work, can’t we?” your eyes met his as you snapped out of it. His face softened as if all of his stress and frustration washed away, seeing how you weren’t angry at him anymore. That was only because the anger was replaced with nervousness. Joel had a way of making you feel nervous with his intimidating yet beautiful face, his demeanor, the way he spoke. You didn’t want him to know though and somehow think you were a prude, so a brave face was the only way out of this. He ran back to the truck to grab his duffle bag and your smaller bag, hoping there were clothes in it and not in the big one in the bed of the truck under the tarp.

Joel started to walk under the awnings looking for room number 77, quickly realizing it’s up the stairs. “God dammit” he muttered as he made his way to the second floor, his knees cracking almost every step he took. He reached his hand out behind him for you to grab so you could cover your head from the rain and let him guide you to your destination. As you glanced down you could feel your heart racing and you reluctantly took his pinky and ring finger in your palm, closing your hand slowly. “I think it’s all the way down towards the end Joel, go left” you pointed out and he turned, leading you under the neon sign poorly hung on the wall. You fixed his jacket to rest on your shoulders, Joel finally getting to your room. He jingled the keys in his hand before unlocking the door and letting you go inside first.

There it was. Your bed in the middle of the room with a small chair in the corner and an old tv on a worn out dresser. This was starting to become real to you, you were sharing a room with your dads best friend for the night. Joel locked the door behind him and shook his head quickly, water flying everywhere. “Hope this one has some fresh clothes for you, bunny.” He handed over your bag and your hand brushed against his, your face feeling hot. “Y-yeah, this one does. Thanks, I would’ve never thought to grab these. I’m gonna go shower and warm up a little.” Joel nodded and tossed his soaking jacket across the back of the small wooden chair by the window. There was a small part of your mind that wondered what he’d look like in the shower, pinning you against the wall with his hand around your throat as he tells you to look at him before he kisses you deeply. He stood in front of the tv and messed around with the remote to turn it on so you didn’t feel like he was listening in on you.

Just as you were going to shut the door, you looked into the mirror and threw the space of the door, you watched Joel peel his shirt off his wet body, tossing it god knows where. His torso glistened in the tv light and he started to unbutton his jeans, still blissfully unaware you were watching. You closed the door as quiet as you could and locked it, immediately getting out of your clothes. If your panties weren’t wet before, they definitely were after watching him strip. A little fantasizing never hurt anybody and he was never going to find out about said fantasies. The warm water beat down over your back and you closed your eyes in relaxation, taking as much as you could get before the shitty water heater quit. God were you nervous to go to sleep, what if your snoring keeps him awake all night? Would he leave you here in the morning because technically this all happened because of you. You insisted Joel drive his truck instead of taking your car because it was bigger. He tried telling you it wasn’t all that reliable but you had already thrown your stuff in the bed of the truck by that point.

Your hand wrapped around the knob to shut the water off after you had enough and you were practically falling asleep standing up. Until now you had completely forgotten the only pajamas you packed were a little too skimpy for this situation, but what other choice did you have? You rummaged through the bag on the counter trying to find the least revealing combo you packed. You could’ve died from embarrassment as you didn’t find one pair of panties in this mess of pajamas. How could you sleep in the same bed with Joel just full commando under your shorts? There was zero chance of him going to get your other bag, so you had to do what you had to do and put your shorts on over your bare ass.

“Thought you were gonna sleep in there” Joel chuckled as you made your way out into the rest of the room. While you were in the bathroom having a wardrobe malfunction, he managed to make a wall of two pillows in the middle of the bed so you could ease your mind. You laughed softly and tried not to stare at his arms that were folded behind his head while he watched whatever he could find on the tv. Joel had no business looking so good just relaxing, how on earth were you going to be able to sleep tonight with him like that? “What’re we watchin?” your voice clearly indicating you were nervous while you climbed into bed, tugging the blanket over your body quickly so he couldn’t see much. His jaw clenched slightly and he looked over at you and made your breath hitch. “I don’t even know, to be honest, sweet pea. I’m tired though, I just didn’t wanna sit in silence while you showered.” and just like that there you were in the pitch black with Joel Miller.

You both shimmied down into bed, your back facing Joel’s pillow wall and his face just on the other side. He was dreaming if he thought you could fall asleep quickly, especially here. The thunder boomed above you and lightning followed behind it, lighting up behind the drawn curtains. Joel must’ve heard your teeth chattering because you suddenly felt a hand cross the pillow wall, his fingers tracing up and down gently to soothe you. “S’okay bunny, nothin’s gonna get ya.” You tried to not focus so much on his kind gesture but damn was he sending your head straight for the gutter. If only his hand would creep around just a little more and grab your boob, just a small squeeze..god.

“Joel, can you play with my hair please? Just five minutes, that’s all and then I swear I’ll go to sleep? It just helps me relax” you questioned and sat up a little to look at him. There wasn’t much he could say to that and he was already half asleep anyway so it didn’t really matter. “Mmmyeah, cmon. Lay down for me” his groggy tone made your excitement rush your shorts and you felt so silly for getting turned on by that. You subconsciously scooted back against the pillows so he didn’t have to reach far when his hand found its way into your damp hair. Finally, you didn't feel so nervous being so close to him. This was innocent, it was just something he was doing to make you feel better to go to sleep. Your eyes closed as he started to scratch along your scalp slowly, melting all the stress away from your body. Joel gave the back of your neck a firm squeeze and you whimpered softly in relief, your eyes flying open in hopes he didn’t hear that.

“Didja like that, hunny?” his thick accent was in full effect the more tired he got and he laughed as he squeezed your neck once more. “Shut up, I just have a lot of stress there, that’s all” you were scrambling for any kind of plausible excuse you could think of. His fingers went from the back of your neck to the crook of your neck and just barely brushed over your soft skin. It felt like he was teasing you almost, like he wanted to hear you whimper again. What a sick freak. Maybe you were even sicker for wanting to do it again for him. Your body was backing up against the pillow wall even more and you could feel Joels legs with yours. His fingers stopped for a few seconds as he was processing what was happening and he started up again, this time slowly making his way to your chest. He rubbed his palm over your heart softly, almost afraid to move down the valley between your breasts.

“You can feel them i-if you want, I don’t mind.” Your voice shook and he cupped your breast, pinching the nipple between his fingers softly and you heard a faint gasp come from behind the pillows. Without a second thought you grabbed both pillows and tossed them to the floor, backing up all the way against Joel. You didn’t care at this point, you needed him and you wanted him to do far more than play with your nipples. “Kiss me, please.” you turned your head to the side and he leaned in slowly to kiss you, his soft lips pressed against yours. In seconds he was growing hungry for more, his hands traveling all over your body and his kisses getting sloppy. The both of you were a little delirious from driving all night but man did it make it feel ten times better. Joels hand almost went under the band of your shorts and he pulled away slightly, “May I?”

A whimper came out of your mouth as an answer and his hand traveled down your shorts and he groaned as he realized you weren’t wearing panties. “Oh baby doll, no panties, huh? Naughty lil thing.” Joel tutted and plunged a finger between your soaking folds. His low groans vibrated on the shell of your ear and sent your head in the clouds, spinning in pleasure. You reached your arm back and placed your hand on his head while he worked his finger delicately over your entrance. He was soon knuckle deep and you moaned out his name.

“Fuck, Joel yes like that, just like that.”

You crashed your lips onto his, your tongue wanting to find his. Joel’s growing boner pressed against your ass as you grinded against him. The mix between him fingering you and pushing his hard cock against you was driving you nuts, you wanted him badly. He shoved down your shorts to your ankles and soon followed his underwear and pajama pants. “Spit in my hand for me, yeah?” He asked and held out his hand in front of you. Your lustful eyes met his and locked in as you spit exactly where he told you. His hand quickly went to his cock as he thrusted into his palm, coating himself with your saliva.

“Fuuuuck I need this pretty wet pussy wrapped around me right now. Hold your leg for me so I can get inside, baby. Stay still.” His muffled words were spoken against your hair as he buried his cock in your dripping hole.

The two of you went silent for a few seconds while you got adjusted, when finally you were able to get a squeak out. “Jesus- fuck, you’re so big inside me I can’t-“ his arm that was under your head wrapped around your neck and pulled you against him, shushing you while he bit your ear subtly. “Mmm you can handle it baby, you got it. Stay with me.” His headlock was firm, he needed you right where you were. Joel gripped your waist with his other hand and began thrusting deep inside you, his soft whimpers turning into throaty groans in no time.

It felt as if he was going to split you open from the inside out, but you didn’t care. You were absolutely fucked out of your right mind, you were his. Joel was so vocal with you it was almost shocking. You never expected him to be so loud and dirty talk to you the way he was but wow did he do it well. You drank in each other's moans as your tongues danced together, his cock thrusting into you so fast he was making your pussy squelch.

Your stomach caved with every deep breath you took, the tip of his cock hitting just the right spot and causing you to forget to breathe. “Yes, right there baby fuck, don’t stop. You feel so good inside me, don’t ever stop.” You were begging at this point, the desperation taking over you. Joel groaned your name louder as his headlock around you got tighter. “You’re such a naughty girl for me sweetheart, begging me not to leave this soaking wet pussy.”

Joel reached around from your waist and circled your clit, moving his middle finger vigorously on the sensitive bud. Your knees began to shake and you knew you wouldn’t last long if he kept that up. “Cum for me baby, coat daddy’s cock with your cum, let me feel it. Let me feel you absolutely shut down on my big cock.” His lips pressed kisses all over your head and ear, sending you over the edge. Eyes screwed shut, you shouted out his name and cuss words following, bucking your hips to ride out your orgasm that was hitting you hard.

That still wasn’t enough for you. One orgasm wasn’t enough. “Joel-fuck..keep fucking me, make me cry from cumming so hard.” He grunted and thrusted into you once more like he never stopped.

“Yeah, I knew you had it in you to go one more. You love the way I make your pussy feel, don’t you, filthy girl.” You nodded and whimpered yes, but he could hardly hear it over the slapping of his skin on yours. Joel’s thrusts were getting sloppy and he began panting. “Gonna let me cum inside you, princess? Fuucck, I don’t have much left in me. Let me fill you up please.” He begged and you clenched around his cock, earning a moan from him.

“Sh-ii-it baby f-fuck I’m c-coming I'm comin-“ he panted as he began shooting his hot load, thrusting every pump of cum further inside you. Joel’s grip around your head loosened as he drained himself, his sweaty chest sticking to your back. Neither one of you moved as you laid there barely covered by the thin sheet now, his cock growing soft in you. As you both tried to catch your breath, somehow even in the dark you managed to look at his eyes. “I don’t think the rain has stopped yet, might need to stay an extra day just to be safe.”

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x you #the last of us #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #dbf joel miller x f reader #dbf joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal joel miller #TLOU #hbo tlou

3K notes · View notes

aemondsbabe · 4 months

Text

Homecoming

summary: reassurance & car sex || you're desperate to have tom before he ships off, but neither of your houses are exactly ideal options...

pairing: tom bennett x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, first time, loss of virginity, car sex, public sex (they don’t get caught, no one else sees, but it’s not in the privacy of a home so ig), fingering, fluff, tom being so sweet actually, v soft

word count: 3.1k

a/n: happy day two of 12 days of smuff!!! tom bennett makes my head spin!!!!!!! Can be read as a part 1 to A Promise is a Promise or as a stand alone!

12 days of smuff masterlist!

gif creds to @violaobanion!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

A loud peal of laughter erupts from Tom’s lips as the two of you stagger out of the small, neighborhood pub you frequented, each of you calling quick goodbye’s over your shoulders to your friends. The night air was crisp but thankfully not overly cold yet as you take Tom’s arm, your shoulder bumping against his as you step out onto the sidewalk.

“You’re a real firecracker, love, you know that?” He asks with a cheeky grin, draping a long arm over your shoulders as you begin the quick walk back to your family’s place.

You can’t help but chuckle as you glance over at him, the apples of your cheeks sore from how much you’ve been smiling and laughing over the last couple hours. “‘S just the truth, Tommy,” you shrug, slightly slurring your words, “I just love you sooooooo much! Like, more than anything.”

Leaning in, Tom presses a quick kiss to your cheek and laughs once again when you stumble against him from the movement. “Easy there, tiger,” he mumbles, a soft smile on his face. The two of you amble a bit further in a comfortable, giggly silence as you finally turn the corner onto your street, “D’you love me more than Cola Cubes?” Tom asks, giggling out the words.

You throw your head back and groan dramatically before turning to him with a playful pout, “That is pure evil, that is! Making me think of Cola Cubes during rationing!” You whine, reaching up to lightly smack him on his firm chest.

Tom merely laughs as the two of you finally come to a stop in front of your front door; spinning around, you let yourself fall back against the white-painted door, the material cool against your back through your thin blouse. You look up through your lashes at Tom, watching as he leans forward, balancing himself against the door with one arm outstretched above the two of you as his other hand comes to rest on your hip.

“Tell ya what,” he starts, a suddenly serious look in his cobalt eyes as he leans ever closer to you and rests his forehead against yours, “I’ll save you every single Cola Cube I get in my C-rations and y’can have ‘em all when I get back to ya.”

Your throat tightens at his words and your heart twists meanly in your chest, though you manage to turn your lips up into a small, quivering smile as you place a hand on his chest, the grey fabric of his sweater soft under your palm. “And you promise you’ll come back?” Your voice is softer than you mean for it to be, a slight hoarseness to it from how your throat pinches.

Tom sighs softly and gently cups your chin, his hand still cool from where it had been balanced on the door. “I’ve only had you for a measly two months, you think I’m giving you up that easily?” He teases, though there’s a certain sadness in his eyes that mirror’s your own; even still, you can’t help but chuckle at his words.

The two of you stand in a comfortable silence for a moment, simply enjoying being close as neither of you are willing to say goodnight yet. After a minute, your breath hitches in your chest as you notice the shadow behind the brunette’s eyes morph into a different kind of darkness as his eyes stray to your lips.

Without a second thought, you lean in and press your lips against his, eliciting a pleased hum from the boy, the small noise vibrating against the hand still on his chest as your other comes up to rest on his shoulder. Both of his skirt down to grab at your hips and he pulls you closer to him, your heads tilting in opposite directions as the kiss deepens. A small whimper escapes your lips as he licks into your mouth, his tongue swirling against your own.

“Tommy,” you whisper, your head tilting further to the side as he presses a line of kisses down your neck, “I… I want you.” You finish shyly, teeth biting into your lower lip as he pulls back to look at you.

His breath hitches for a second before he collects himself. “Are you sure, love?” He asks gruffly, “I thought you wanted to wait till–.”

You shake your head, your eyes searching his as you fiddle with the neckline of his sweater. “Changed my mind,” the corner of your lips quirks up into a nervous smile, “Think of it as a going away present.”

Tom smiles at your words and huffs out a small laugh before nodding to the door behind you. “Whatever you wish, love. Lead the way.”

Your eyes widen slightly as you shake your head again. “Are you crazy? We cannot go in there, both my parents are very light sleepers and if my dad catches you, you won’t even make it to the Navy, much less make it home. Can’t we just go round to yours? It’s only a couple minutes away.”

“No can do, love,” Tom sighs with a shake of his head, “Even if my dad’s asleep, there’s no way we’ll get past Lois. Bloody bat hearing on that one, I swear.”

The two of you sigh, defeated, your shoulders sagging as Tom crooks an arm up, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck as he glances around, the wheels in his head spinning frantically as he tries to come up with an idea; his eyes do a double take as he spots your family’s black car sitting idly on the small driveway in front of your house and he turns to you with a sly smirk.

“What say we christen your dad’s car?”

You start to giggle, convinced he’s merely joking, although you stop when you see the look in his eyes. “Tommy, you can’t be serious,” you say with a surprised smile, “If my dad finds out we took it he’ll–.”

“Who said anything about taking it, love?” He says with a proud smirk.

You guffaw at this, staring at him incredulously. “What, you mean just here on the drive?”

“Well, why not?” He questions, exaggeratedly turning his head as he looks around, peering up and down the deserted road, “You know as well as I do that all your neighbors are old as the hills, love. Only ones out round here at this hour are you and me.”

You stay quiet for a moment, unbelievably actually considering his proposal as you glance up and down the road and well… he is right. Most of your neighbors are quite a bit older and all of their windows dark and still as you peer around. Finally, you turn back to Tom with a sigh, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“Fine,” you quip, blushing slightly as he chuckles lowly, clearly pleased with himself, “Let me grab the bloody key.” You mutter with a playful eye roll as you open your front door as slowly and quietly as you can possibly manage. You duck in and quickly snatch your father’s ring of keys off the small table next to the door before quietly shutting it behind you.

You hand the keys to Tom and follow him down the drive, a sense of giddiness quickly replacing your nerves; the brunette easily unlocks the car and quickly pulls one of the back doors open and slides inside before reaching a hand out to pull you with him.

He pounces on you as soon as you carefully shut the door, his rough hands eagerly bunching up the fabric of your blouse as he tugs it out from where you’d tucked it under your skirt while his lips move frantically against your own.

“You’re sure?” He pants, pulling back after a moment when he feels your hands starting to tug impatiently at the bottom of his sweater, “We really don’t ha–.”

You press a finger against his rosy lips, cutting him off with a soft giggle. “I want this, Tommy,” leaning in, you trail soft kisses up his jaw to his ear, “I want you.” You whisper, relishing the way he shivers on top of you and the way the muscles of his stomach and chest twitch under your touch as you slide your hands under his sweater.

With a nod, Tom dives in yet again and presses wet kisses against the column of your throat as he tugs you into his lap, careful not to let your head bump against the roof of the car. He groans at the feel of you on top of him and his hands move quickly as they pull your blouse up; he leans in and kisses wetly up your stomach, right down the middle until he reaches the bottom of your bra.

His blue eyes are nearly black as he gazes up at you, questioning. A whimper slips past your lips as you answer him with a small nod, fingers threading through his short hair as he eagerly slips your bra up.

He breathes out a low, satisfied groan when your breasts are finally free, not bothering to take off your bra or blouse before he dives in. “Jesus Christ,” he mumbles, lips pressed against the underside of your breast, “They’re better than I imagined, so much better.”

A giggle spills past your lips before it quickly turns into a moan, your head lolling back as he latches onto one nipple, happily sucking it into his warm mouth with a satisfied grunt. “T-Tommy,” you whisper, already writhing on top of him from a few touches, “Don’t stop.” Your voice is whiny as you speak, only for you to actually whine as Tom pulls back for a second to tug his sweater over his head.

“Relax, love,” he huffs against your chest, groaning hotly as you squirm in his lap, no doubt able to feel his cock as it hardens steadily in his pants, “‘M gonna give you what you want, gonna do right by you.” He promises, licking over your nipple before sucking at it and letting his eyes flutter shut at the way you gently tug his hair.

The windows of the car quickly begin to fog up as the two of you move together, your breathy sighs and whimpers filling the small space along with Tom’s harsh pants and groans. You squirm in his lap as his hands make quick work of your stockings and underwear, quickly tugging them down and off your legs before he tosses them somewhere on the floor of the car.

He looks to you for reassurance once more, which you happily give, before his warm hand cups your center, causing both of you to shudder against each other. Slowly, carefully, he parts your folds before gently rubbing a finger over your bud, chuckling when you buck into his hand with a loud moan. “That the spot, love?” His eyes flick up to your face, eager to watch your reactions as he touches you, “God, you’re dripping.” A soft sigh leaves his lips as he presses his fingers more firmly against you, flicking them over your clit.

“Mhm, Tommy, shit,” you whine, your voice only a breathy whisper as you press your forehead against his. Your eyes flutter as your hips move against his hand, seemingly with a mind of their own, “More, please!” You whine desperately after a few moments, eyes squeezing shut at the way your center clenches around nothing.

Nodding, Tom moves his hand a bit lower, groaning at how much slicker you are here, before he runs his fingers through your folds once more, making sure to get them wet before notching two at your entrance. “Ready?” He asks softly, only slowly pushing them in once you nod. He groans along with you, marveling at how tightly you’re grasping his fingers as his cock twitches in his pants at the thought of how much tighter you’ll be around him. “Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he groans lowly, blue eyes glancing down to watch your breasts heave as you pant on top of him, “Does that feel good, love?”

Wordlessly, you nod against his forehead, swallowing thickly. A loud moan is practically punched out of you as he curls his fingers, pressing perfectly against a small, sensitive spot inside you. Your mouth hangs open as unintelligible whines tumble from your lips, a shiver going down your spine when you see the pleased smirk on his face.

His long fingers fuck into you for a few more moments, his thumb coming up to rub at your clit in a way that makes you see stars as you cling to him tightly, your breasts pressed deliciously up against his warm, bare chest.

You whine, however, when his movements start to slow against you, though he’s quick to hush you, chuckling as he presses a kiss to your cheek. “You want my cock, love?” He asks, pulling his fingers from you slowly before gripping appreciatively at the fat of your inner thigh.

You pull back to look down at him, your eyebrows knitting together as a small, nervous pit forms in your stomach. “It… it won’t hurt, right?” You ask softly, the words of several of your friends echoing through your mind.

Quickly, Tom shakes his head, one hand coming up to cup your cheek lovingly. “I promise it won’t,” he says softly, pressing a reassuring kiss to your lips, “I told you, I’m gonna do right by you.”

Hesitantly, you nod, though he must sense the nervousness that’s still pooled in your stomach. He sighs with a soft smile, his thumb caressing your cheekbone. “How about you stay on top, hm? That way you control everything.”

You blink a few times, considering the offer before smiling and nodding, which draws a bright smile from the boy underneath you. You shift back a bit on his lap, giving him enough room to unbutton and unzip his pants and pull them down just enough to free his cock; your eyes widen as he pulls it free from his boxers with a relieved sigh.

“A-Are you sure it’ll fit?” You ask softly, marveling at it as he runs a hand over his length.

He chuckles beneath you with a proud smirk as he pulls you back to him. “I’m sure, love, I promise you’ll enjoy it.” He assures you, pressing kisses down your neck as he does so. Your breath hitches as you feel the head of his cock prod at your entrance, and you lean into Tom’s touch as you let him guide your hips.

“Oh!” You shudder as you slowly sink down, breathing heavily as the head slips inside your warm center.

“That’s it,” he coaxes, his hands gentle on your hips as he lets you take him at your own pace, “Doing so well, pretty girl.”

His praises spur you on as you sink lower and lower, eyes squeezing shut as your thighs burn a little with the effort. Finally, after a few minutes, you breathe a sigh of relief as your thighs finally rest on top of his, his length pressing fully inside you.

“Y’okay?” He checks through a ragged breath, his eyes nearly slipping to the back of his head as he feels you twitch and pulse around him already, your walls suffocatingly tight against his length.

You nod as you let yourself fall forward and press a cheek against his warm shoulder before giving a small, experimental roll of your hips. You gasp as you feel him press against you, filling you with a delicious ache.

The two of you begin to move together wordlessly, your hands finding purchase against his firm chest as you gingerly bounce on top of him, breathily moaning in time with each thrust. Tom grunts each time you sink back down onto him, one hand gripping at your hip as the other kneads at your breast, his fingers pinching and pulling your nipple just enough to elicit adorable high-pitched whines from you.

Your clit, still sensitive from his earlier attention, rubs perfectly against the small thatch of hair at the base of his cock and sends shivers down your spine. “T-Tommy,” you gasp, nearly doubling over as you tilt your hips, causing the head of his cock to rut against that sensitive spot within you at the same time your clit grinds against him, “I think – I, oh!” You pant against his shoulder, unable to string together two words as sparks suddenly burst behind your eyelids.

Tom huffs out a loud groan as he feels you tense on top of him, your walls clenching around his cock wildly as your peak washes over you. He mumbles incoherent curses against your neck as his hips rut up into you.

He holds out for as long as he can before tugging you off of his lap, one hand quickly grasping at his length as he desperately strokes it. You watch, enraptured, as his head tilts back onto the car seat, his Adams’s apple bobbing beautifully as he moans, long and loud. His cock twitches in his grasp as he finishes, painting wet, pearlescent streaks against the trembling skin of his lower stomach, his chest heaving.

After a moment, the two of you giggle softly. You bite your lip as he bends over, only to open it in protest as he quickly wipes his spend from his stomach with your discarded stockings, “Tom! You pig!” You admonish, albeit through a surprised laugh.

He peers up at you cheekily as he deposits your stockings on the floor of the car once again, laughing as he pulls you back to him. “You’ll wash them anyway!” He huffs, wrapping his arms around you. The two of you grow quiet for a moment, rain softly pattering against the top of the car. “Or you could keep them like a trophy while I’m gone,” he teases, chuckling once again at your small sound of disgust, “Something to remember me by.”

“But you’ll be back,” you say softly after a moment, pulling back so you can look at him properly, your wide eyes searching his, “Right?”

He sighs with a soft smile, both hands gently cupping your cheeks. “I promise, I’ll come back to you,” he says earnestly, blue eyes boring into your own, “I will come home to you, love.”

You stare at him for a moment longer before finally nodding, tucking your face against his shoulder once more and breathing in his familiar scent.

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

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jjongslutz · 5 months

Text

심재윤 & 이희승 JAKE FEAT. HEESEUNG 💋 IMAGINE ME [ MDNI. ]

IN WHICH you spend your nights sexting an ai bot of your favourite idol, not knowing that there's an actual person behind the bot

WARNINGS ⨯ sexting, mutual masturbation, dirty talking, heeseung’s highkey a perv but we don’t go too much into that, use of pet names (baby, good girl), no plot except for some introduction stuff

WORD COUNT ⨯ 1.7k

AUTHOR’S NOTE . . . oh i had too much fun writing this one despite having writer's block lowkey LMAO

taglist: @choinabisblog @ineedsomezzz @namdeyuoi bold can be tagged

They put up a new poster by the bus stop, you notice as you walk into it. Your eyes widen when you get a better look at it.

It's Jake.

His skin glistens. He's advertising some skin care product, and they did wonders by adding a cute shade of blush on his cheeks. Jake smiles sweetly in the picture, holding up the bottle to the camera for everyone to know what he uses to look that good.

False advertising. He was born looking like that.

Still, you sit down with a smile creeping upon your lips underneath your scarf. Despite the cold weather, your insides are warm at the sight of your idol.

“Y/N?” a voice sounds from behind you.

When you turn, you find a familiar face with a bright smile at your recognition. His features are remarkable even under his thick beanie and large coat which do the opposite of complement his sweatpants. You return a polite smile. “Heeseung,” you say.

“No classes today?” he asks.

You shake your head. “They got cut off early, luckily.”

Heeseung tells you they did the same for him. You don’t respond, but nod at the mutual coincidence, looking down to check how far the bus is.

It’s not as if you have something against Heeseung, you’ve been good friends since your first year. However, you have other things in mind than your conversation.

“Are you busy tonight?”

“Sorry?”

Heeseung chuckles shyly. “I was wondering if you wanted to hang out, or…” He drifts off, but his eyes stay on your figure. “If you have plans, it’s okay.” His voice doesn’t falter, keeping a friendly tone as he wears a sweet smile.

“I’m sorry, I’m pretty busy—”

He shakes his head gently. “Don’t worry about it. Another time?”

You agree, and that’s the end of it because your bus pulls up and you’re bidding him farewell. As you make your way to the sidewalk, you don't catch him taking his phone out with a sly smile — What does it concern you, anyway?

The bus ride couldn't be slower. Your leg bounces in your seat in pattern with the bus' movements below, avoiding squeezing your thighs together. As much as you crave sweet relief, you hold yourself together and wait.

You're patient. You promised.

“Hyunjin?” you call out after opening the door to your shared apartment. You wait a moment before trying again, “Are you there?”

To your satisfaction, her response doesn’t come. Just in case, you peak through her half-open door and check for an empty bed. Check. Her class would’ve cut short earlier than yours, meaning that it wasn’t cut at all if she’s not here. She’ll be out until midnight, if not only coming home tomorrow if she crashes at her girlfriend’s place again.

A smile creeps up on your lips as you make your way to your bedroom.

You’re quick to shower and get changed in more comfortable clothes, turning on the mood lamp instead of the big, bright light. Shutting the door, you opt for extra safety measures in case your roommate comes back home early for whatever reason.

Then, just as you’re settling yourself into your bed, your phone buzzes from beside you.

JAKE: Y/N? Are you there?

Your smile returns as you begin to type.

ME: hi, jake

JAKE: I missed you

ME: me too...

You found the app not long ago. It's said to be more realistic than any other AI program. Their bots respond and act like there's an actual human behind another screen, answering your texts. You cheesed at the ad you'd gotten for it, but quickly became obsessed.

After getting over a breakup, you never would've guessed the best way to heal was through chatting with Jake every night. Soon enough, it became more than just talking with a computer; It feels like you really made a new friend.

Or, maybe something more than that.

JAKE: Are you alone?

You flush at the message.

ME: yes...

JAKE: Good. You're in your bedroom?

ME: yes

JAKE: What are you wearing?

An oversized shirt for appearance, a personal preference. No pants to cover your black lace panties, which match the lace bra you wear underneath the gray material on your torso.

You don't write out your message, opting to send him a picture.

JAKE: Fuck. You're beautiful

ME: and you?

JAKE: Anything for you baby

Woah. Your heart stutters at the AI-generated image it sends you next. It looks like him. Like, really looks like him. Aside from his face conveniently not in shot.

He lifts his shirt slightly in the picture, revealing toned abs leading to a V-line which ends at a pair of familiar sweatpants. Your eyes certainly don't miss the bulge underneath the pants.

The image in front of you makes your mind go wild. It's so much easier to imagine him sitting right in front of you, looking at you with hungry eyes.

"What're you thinking of, Y/N?"

Your eyes widen at the sudden appearance of Jake, sitting right at the edge of your bed wearing a loosely (barely)buttoned shirt and grey sweatpants, adorned with an erection stealing your gaze.

"You," you blurt out.

He chuckles. "I'm thinking about you, too." His voice is velvety, thick with his accent which has your breath stuttering.

His hand travels to his crotch. Keeping his eyes fixed on yours, Jake bites his lip as he tests the waters by slowly rolling his hand over his clothed cock.

Fixated on his movements, you barely notice your own hand inching down to your core, rubbing slow circles at the same pace.

"Fuck, baby," he sighs. "Touching yourself to me? Such a nasty girl for me." His words hold no bark, though, as he shifts in his seat to lean against the wall. He lifts his hips to pull down his sweatpants, revealing his white boxers stained with a wet patch where his hardened dick sticks against.

Jake strokes himself through the thin material, hooded eyes staring back you as he wears a lazy smirk.

You hum and follow him, pulling off your shirt to be left in only your lace underwear.

"You're so beautiful, baby."

You blush at his words, keeping your hand on your dampening panties, rolling your fingers up and down rhythmically.

Naturally, you throw your head back with closed eyes as your pace quickens in time with Jake's. You hum at the sensation, wishing you were trapped between his legs, forced to handle the torture of his fast fingers on your cunt.

Instead, you peel your eyes open to watch Jake finally take out his cock impatiently.

He strokes himself slowly at first, as if to show off his size — You gulp at the sight. He's long and veiny, but has girth that would have your walls clenching tightly around him. You're not sure if you want him in your mouth, or let him pound into your pussy. Either way has you licking your lips and inching your panties down your thighs.

"Fuck, I wish I could touch you right now," Jake huffs as his hands glide quickly over his dripping cock.

"'M yeah?" you challenge. "What would you, shit, what would you do to me?"

Jake smirks through pants. "I'd finger you," he starts. "Fill your pussy with my fingers until you're begging for my cock. And—fuck—I'd let you take me down your throat."

You close your eyes to imagine the sight, pleasure bubbling in your stomach at the sound of Jake's whimpers.

Dipping your fingers into your pussy, you pretend Jake's really with you, slowly inching his cock into you. "'So good," you moan.

"Match my pace," Jake says in a rush, waiting for you to meet eyes.

The two of you hold eye contact as he strokes in a rhythmic, fast pattern, while you shove three fingers into your cunt at the same pace. As his hand reaches the tip of his cock, your fingers inch away from your hole. He fucks up into his hand and your fingers are already knuckles deep.

"Shit, fuck, you're so—you feel so good, fuck!"

Jake lifts his hips to match his hand's movements, sloppily thrusting up into his own touch. His words are nonsense, but have your head spinning as you grind down on your hand, reaching down with your other to draw circles on your clit, too.

"I'm so close."

"Me too," you tell him.

Soon enough, the room is filled with your pleasured moans echoing off the walls. You stay still, your fingers still deep in your cunt as you settle down from your high.

Your breath pumps rapidly, only to falter in pattern when you let go a deep sigh at the empty space at the foot of your bed.

When you told him you'd be busy tonight, Heeseung knew what you meant without you needing to tell him. Not that you would ever admit it. He smirked at your innocent front, knowing how dirty you are deep down.

His chest rises and falls rhythmically, trying to catch his breath. He looks down at his sticky hand, his slowly softening cock he just let slip out of his grip.

His phone dings. You sent another message.

Y/N: i came...

Heeseung smiles, satisfied.

JAKE: good girl

You don't respond, and Heeseung can put together that you're probably cleaning yourself up from the mess you've made. God, he wishes he could see you.

Unable to stop himself, Heeseung exits out of the app and finds your contact. He frantically presses the call button and waits through the three rings before you pick up. You sound surprised when you respond, your voice hinting at feeling caught in the act.

"Can I come over?" Heeseung finally asks.

"Uh, sure, yeah—" Commotion from the other end of the line sounds. "Just, uh, it'll be a little messy when you come, so don't judge."

He chuckles under his breath. "Don't worry, baby."

Your gasp tells him all he needs to know.

917 notes · View notes

leossmoonn · 5 months

Note

Can you do Mike with a single mom with a son like she moves into the neighborhood and her son and Abby get along super well?

includes - abby and her son already are friends. after freddy’s. feelings are caught fast. not edited.

————

“hey, baby. how was school?” you place a hand on his back, guiding him to your car.

“good,” he says, opening the door and climbing in.

“wait, henry!” a little voice shouts from behind you. you turn around, seeing a little girl with curly hair and bangs running towards your car.

“abby! stop running!” a man shouts as he follows after her.

henry pushes past you, exiting the car and stepping onto the sidewalk.

“you forgot this,” abby says, handing him one of his star wars action figures. he smiles at her and takes it. “thanks.”

the man chasing after her huffs as he stops behind her. he puts his hands on his hips, glaring down at her. “you can’t just go off running like that, abby.”

she turns to him and shrugs, not seeming to care. “sorry.”

“i think you should start putting that in your backpack, bud. carrying it around isn’t safe for it,” you suggest.

henry nods in agreement. you look back at abby, smiling at her. “thank you for returning the toy. that’s very kind of you.”

“you’re welcome!” she grins, showing her pearly white teeth off. “someone stole my toy at school and i was really sad, so i thought henry might be mad if that happened.”

you laugh softly and nod. “he definitely would’ve been.”

you glance at the man now standing next to her. his face has softened now. his cheeks are dusted pink from having to sprint, but he’s caught his breath now.

“hi, i’m y/n,” you say, holding your hand out for him to shake. “hi, i’m mike.” he gives you a small smile.

“your daughter is very kind,” you say.

abby grimaces and shakes her head. mike chuckles. “she’s my sister.”

“oh,” you say, heat creeping up your neck. “I’m sorry.”

he shakes his head. “no need to apologize. you couldn’t have known.”

you nod in reply. something passes between you two as you stare at each other, hands still clasped together. something that makes your skin tingle and brain melt.

“mom, i’m hungry,” henry says, tugging on your shirt. you’re pulled out of your daze and you both pull your hands away quickly. you smile bashfully, not realizing how long your hand had been in his. “it was nice meeting you. maybe i’ll see you again if abby comes out and talks to henry.”

mike nods, “definitely. it was nice meeting you, too.”

you give him an awkward wave goodbye, ushering henry back into the car. mike grabs abby’s hand and walks her to his car.

“it was nice of you to do that for that boy, but don’t just run off next time, okay?” mike says as he opens the door for her.

“mmkay,” she sighs, hopping into the car. “that woman is really pretty,” she remarks as he sits in the driver’s seat.

mike’s ears turn a little pink at the thought of you. “she’s… yeah, she’s good looking.”

abby giggles in the backseat. “you like her.” he groans, “you have to stop saying that.”

“why? it’s true.”

“because it makes me… it makes me look like a weirdo. especially if you were to say that in front of her.”

“because you know it’s true,” abby remarks. “whatever,” he rolls his eyes. yes, he’ll admit, he found you attractive. you are a very beautiful woman, but he just met you. it would be crazy if he started to like you this sudden… right?

“i’m going to get the mail real quick, okay?” you say to henry who is watching tv.

“okay,” he says, keeping his eyes glued to the screen. you slip on some sandals, walking down your lawn to grab some mail. a familiar voice catches your attention.

“my hair looks fine.”

“no, you look like a wet dog!”

you turn your head, your jaw quite literally dropping. “no way,” you gasp.

“hi, henry’s mom!” abby exclaims, loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear. mike gets out of the car, eyes widening upon spotting you. now he’s actually concerned whether or not he looks like a wet dog.

“hey!” you wave. “hey!” mike says, smiling brightly.

“what a coincidence, right?” you laugh. mike nods, “yeah. actually, abby told me she knew where henry’s lives. i thought she was being creepy, but now i know that it’s true.”

now you’re really laughing. “henry said something similar. he told me the other day that he’s seen your house.”

“he’s not wrong,” mike shrugs. “can i go inside?” abby asks.

“um,” mike says, a little weary of living her inside alone. he wants to keep talking to you, but he doesn’t want to be absent in case something bad happens. he’s about to answer when henry walks outside.

“mom, can i make some chicken nuggets?”

“sure, honey. let me help you with the oven,” you say.”

“hi, abby!” henry shouts. “hi!” she grins. she starts making her way down the driveway. this time, mike is close enough to catch her. “what are you doing?”

“going to talk to my friends.”

“abby, no. they didn’t invite us over.”

“how would you know? you don’t have any friends.”

mike scoffs, not even sure what she means by that. he hears you giggle and instantly softens.

“you guys can come over here. we aren’t busy,” you say.

“you sure?” he asks. “of course. i can make you guys some chicken nuggets,” you smile.

mike takes a step into your house, surprised by how well decorated it is. it looks like you live in a completely different neighborhood compared to the interior of his house. there are pictures of your family and friends everywhere, fancy-looking abstract paintings, and cool-toned furnishings and decorations that makes mike feel ten times more calm after entering.

“if you’re actually hungry i can make you something else,” you say, walking into the kitchen. mike slowly trails behind you, still taking in your house. it doesn’t feel muggy and depressing like his. you get great light and the plants by the windows and on shelves and counters help, too. your house feels warm and happy.

“i’m okay, thank you,” mike says. “would you like something to drink then?” you ask.

“sure. water is fine.”

you fill a cup up, handing it to him. “i hope we aren’t interrupting any of your saturday plans.”

he scoffs with a little smile. “i should be saying that to you.”

“i’m usually pretty flexible. we just moved here, too, so i don’t know anybody or know where anything is.”

“oh, right. i remember seeing the moving trucks,” mike says. “yep, those were mine,” you chuckle.

“can i ask why you moved?”

“job offer,” you answer. “wow, congrats,” he smiles.

“thank you. it’s kind of part of the reason why i haven’t tried going out. work is moving faster than i anticipated, but it’s fine. it keeps me busy.”

mike nods, “yeah, between work and abby, i barely have anytime to myself.”

“where do you work?” you ask. “uh, i’m a store manager,” he answers, looking away bashfully.

you cock your head to the side, not understanding why he suddenly got all shy. “must be nice to be the boss,” you remark.

“it is,” he nods. “now i know why all my bosses in the past hated me when i was just a regular employee.”

you giggle, putting your hands on one of the kitchen chairs, leaning against it. mike’s eyes drop to your hands, not noticing a ring on your finger. he tries not to get too excited, although his heart is skipping beats and his cheeks hurt from repressing a smile.

“i remember working in stores and whatnot. it’s hard being an employee. we always get blamed,” you say.

mike snorts a little bit. “most of you guys never do anything right.”

“mmm, and who’s fault is that?” you quirk a brow. mike would be afraid that he hit a nerve and accidentally started an argument, but the coy smile on your face lets him know you’re bantering with him.

“well, i am the boss, so i get the last say.”

“that’s kind of how my boss is at work. he’s nice and all, but he can he kind of… condescending.”

“i can promise i am not like that.”

“i didn’t think you were.”

mike blushes a little bit, letting out a breathy laugh. something passes between you two again. something that makes mike feel like his throat is dry and that he needs an inhaler.

“mom, can you help me with the nuggets?” henry asks.

“oh, yes!” you turn around, seeing that henry had already put all the food on the baking tray. as you teach henry how to use the oven, mike takes the liberty in looking at the pictures that are on your fridge.

there are some of you and henry when he was a baby. you’re in what looks like a college dorm. your hair is very late-90s as well as your clothes. there’s another one of you with people who look like your parents. a couple more with your friends. there are lots of pictures of henry throughout the years. one particularly catches his eye. it’s of you carrying henry when he was about 2-3 years old with a guy who’s kissing your cheek. his heart sinks. he feels so ridiculous for feeling this strongly about you.

he wonders if his feelings for you are because he barely gets any play ever. he wonders if he’s just excited about talking to a woman, like a stupid high school kid. but there’s just something about you. your warm and welcoming presence and your smile that’s like the sun. or maybe it’s that you’re funny and caring and obviously a very good home decorator. not to mention, you’re gorgeous. of course you’d have a husband, or at least a boyfriend.

“we aren’t married. or dating.”

mike blinks rapidly as your voice breaks him out of his sad daze. “w-what?” he stammers.

“i see that you’re staring at milo and i,” you say. “i-i didn’t mean to invade or anything,” he rushes out.

you shake your head and shrug. “i have the picture there. if i didn’t want people asking questions, i wouldn’t have put it up.”

mike nods in reply, still afraid he’s blown his shot with you. if he even had one in the first place, that is.

“we were married,” you say. “but we divorced two years ago.”

“i’m sorry to hear that,” mike swallows hard. he is sorry to hear that, but it plants a little hope in his head.

“it’s alright. we were high school sweethearts. he got me pregnant when we were 19. we got married at 22, but in the end it didn’t work. honestly, we stayed together because of henry.” you look at your son who is now playing with action figures with abby. “but those types of relationships never work.”

“does henry miss him?” mike asks. “he does,” you nod. “he says he doesn’t, but i know he does. he was dad’s little guy. he’s just playing it tough, though. he learned that from milo.”

mike laughs a little. “well, henry is a very nice kid. you guys raised him well.”

“we aren’t done yet,” you smile. “has milo come to visit?” mike asks.

“not yet. he’s a great dad and i think he’s already made plans to visit next month. the only reason why i have full custody is because milo is traveling the world. he just turned 30 and is having an identity crisis, or whatever. and we both agreed it’d be good for henry to go to school and have some type of stability in his life. which, i know, is funny since we moved. but i think he likes it here. he obviously had no trouble making friends.”

mike glances to the two kids in the living room. “i’m glad abby met henry. she’s always had trouble making friends, but recently she’s doing really well.”

“well, i’m glad henry met her, too. and i’m glad we met,” you add the last part. “all the parents at the kid’s school seem like such suck-ups. even just driving to pick him up i feel judged.”

“i know exactly how you feel,” mike sighs.

you stare at him for a moment, a question entering your mind. your heart races as you open your mouth to speak, hoping he won’t reject the idea.

“would you and abby like to, uh, stay for dinner?”

mike’s eyes widen and he starts stammering. “yeah, uh, sure. if you’d have us. you really don’t have to, though. i already feel like we have imposed.”

“nonsense,” you shake your head. “i’d be happy to prepare something for you. that way henry and abby can hang out more.”

mike slowly nods, a slow smile lighting his features. “yeah, that sounds great!” he sounds a little more enthusiastic than he’d like, but you don’t mind. in fact, you look delighted.

mike ends up helping you make dinner. the kids each their chicken nuggets as their meal, stealing a tiny bit of your food as you two eat.

“this is amazing,” mike says. “i haven’t had a home cooked meal in forever.”

“well, thank you. this is my grandma’s recipe.”

“is there any way i can personally thank you grandma?”

“definitely. she’s be happy to hear someone else likes her cooking.”

“mom, can we watch a movie?” henry asks. “yeah, of course, bud. you don’t need my permission,” you say.

“i mean, can we all watch?”

you glance at mike who has the same shocked and hesitant expression as you.

“sure,” you nod slowly.

abby and henry end up picking “ice age” — which is one of the best dreamworks movies ever. the two kids sit on the floor wrapped up in blankets while you and mike sit on the couch, careful to keep a safe distance.

“have you ever seen this?” mike whispers. “no. i think it’s a new one,” you say.

“it’s… weird,” mike comments. you giggle quietly. “it kind of is.”

mike glances at you and can’t help but admire you. you’ve changed out of your day wear and into some pjs. your makeup is all off and you’re snuggled up under a blanket. he can’t help but think this is the real you in your natural habitat. he can’t help but think how pretty you are.

you notice mike’s gaze in your peripheral. you turn your head to look at him, your eyes scanning his face. one of the first things you noticed about mike the other day was how handsome he is. his hair seems to be just slightly messy all the time. he has a purple hue under his eyes from the bags, but it makes his brown eyes stand out more somehow. his facial hair is light but frames his face well. your eyes trace the shape of his nose, noticing the tiniest bump by the bridge. his jawline is sharp — surprisingly sharp. all of his features are just so perfect.

“thank you for inviting us. it’s very kind of you,” mike says. “for all you know, we could’ve been weird people.”

“I’m pretty weird myself,” you say with a teasing smile. “in all seriousness, i really don’t mind. i just see the way abby interacts with henry and the way you interact with her. i know you both are good people.”

“thank you. i think you’re a good person, too. and henry.”

your eyes travel down to his lips and just for a moment, you imagine what it’s like kissing him. you have to tear your eyes away immediately, knowing he saw that and feeling a little embarrassed. it’s cliché to say, but you haven’t felt this type of way for someone since your divorce. although you and milo weren’t right for each other, you still loved him. you have also been focusing on your career and henry; you couldn’t imagine bringing someone into your life romantically. you’ve always been afraid to bring someone into henry’s life as well. but you can’t shake the feeling like mike is special and whatever you feel for mike is special.

“can i take you out on a date?” mike asks, practically blurting out the words. it’s so fast you barely catch on, but you hear the word date.

“me and you?” you clarify. “yeah,” he nods, shrinking back into the couch. “if you wanted to. i-i’m sorry if it’s weird. i know we just met and —”

“yes,” you say. “really?” he gasps as if he’s never gotten a yes. you can’t imagine that ever being the case, and you smile a little at how cute and humble he seems.

“yep. i’m free next friday,” you say.

“me, too. i can pick you up at 7.”

“sounds good,” you smile. you turn your attention back to the tv, scooting closer to him. “you better not be late,” you whisper.

mike laughs, “i can’t imagine why i would be.”

————

taglist

@celestbarnes

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #fnaf #mike schmidt x you #this took me so long 😭 ugh.#got it done tho

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eddiesghxst · 5 months

Text

PRICE OF FAME (PART 10/12)

helloooo, here are these two messy cuties once again, i hope you enjoyyy

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: time is almost up but who could deny a good karaoke session?

contains: enemies to lovers trope, alcohol consumption, mentions of drug use, sexual themes, slight angst, those awkward/cringey scenes where they're singing (i apologize in advance), and lots of mixed feelings <3

word count: 3.9k

| previous part | next part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

song inspo for this chappy hehe:

Steve and Robin love karaoke.

Nancy had warned you that the friendly pair practically fiend for a good karaoke sesh, but you hadn’t expected them to be as enthusiastic as they turned out to be.

For some odd reason, the city seems less busy today, so you, Eddie, and Eddie's friends can take up as much room as you’d like on the sidewalk.

In front of you, Robin and Steve are seriously debating what the first song on the queue will be. Walking just a few paces behind them is Nancy, who’s quietly taking in the city's bright lights; and next to you, palm burning a hole through your hand with his addicting touch, is Eddie.

It’s stupid, you think. The way Eddie has seen you stripped down and bare, whining and quivering for him at what could arguably be your most vulnerable state, yet you still find your heart racing 100 miles a minute with this soft gesture of holding hands.

Sure, you’ve held his hand before, but not for this long. Not in public when it’s not the heat of the moment and you’re simply walking around. It’s weird and new, and it makes your stomach twist in a good way, but fuck— you chicken out when Robin and Steve turn to face you, Nancy, and Eddie.

“Steve wants to start karaoke with Queen— like any karaoke amateur would.” Robin huffs as Steve rolls his eyes. You slip your hand from Eddie’s hold before either of them can clock the gesture, and you avoid looking at Eddie when he clears his throat.

“Because it’s the perfect opener!” Steve stresses. “Everybody always does, Queen, Steve! Plus, I’m not even sure I can physically pull through with how long their songs are.” Robin argues.

Steve’s jaw dropped as if Robin had just said the most foul thing he’d ever heard, “Their songs are not that long. And even if they are, they’re fucking amazing, so what’s your point.” “My point is we’re not starting the night with Queen.”

They’re an interesting group of friends, you’ll admit. Interesting in the sense that you swear they could be a part of some sitcom with how funny and unpredictable their conversations and interactions are.

By the time you reach the karaoke bar, Steve and Robin have an entire list of songs mentally queued up, and they make a beeline to the DJ operating the music as you and Nancy snag a table towards the middle of the room. The bar is to one side of the room while the stage is at the front, and the DJ booth is at the back; the rest of the room is full of tables where people chatter, laugh over drinks, and sing along with whoever is currently doing their performance. Eddie had split off to get drinks the second you entered the bar, so it’s just you and Nancy as you settle at the wooden table.

“Are you going to sing?” Nancy questions from the other side of the table. You pull a face, shrugging your shoulders up to your ears, “I’m not sure, maybe once I get a few drinks in me. How about you?” Nancy softly laughs with a playful roll of her eyes, “Unfortunately, I doubt Robin will let me escape this one.”

As if summoned, Robin slides into the seat right next to Nancy. “I put you down together, but there’s a few people ahead, so start thinking of the song you’ll sing.” She gestures between you and Nancy. You shrug, accepting defeat, and before you can pitch an idea for a song to Nancy, Robin is leaning her elbows against the table and blinking at you, “So, let’s cut to the chase. What’s going on between you and Eddie?” She asks.

Nancy’s eyes widen as she instinctively jabs her elbow into Robin’s ribs, “Ow!” “Rob, you can’t just ask people that— god.” You softly laugh as Robin rubs at her sore side. “Sorry if I’m interested in keeping tabs on my friend!” Robin sarcastically argued.

Nancy rolls her eyes and sends you an apologetic look. “Look, I’m just guessing— based on the fact that you two were in the back of a fancy restaurant— that something is going on. Oh— unless this is, like, a business thing, then you can totally ignore me.” Robin rambles.

“Robin,” Nancy stresses. Your cheeks seem to ache from the amused expression on your face as Nancy turns to you, “You don’t have to answer either way since it’s none of our business.” She says, voice raising near the end as she glares at Robin. Robin rolls her eyes, and you laugh with a shake of your head as you shift in your seat. “No, it’s fine, I understand, but um,” You shrug, “It’s just a business thing.” You finally answer.

And, technically, you’re not wrong. There is a business transaction going on between you and Eddie… and the rest of the band, which is primarily the basis of your relationship, but you’re not sure how appropriate it would be to say, ‘Yeah, I mean, Eddie hated me, but now he doesn’t, so then we fucked yesterday but then his manager basically told us to squash whatever that was, so now we’re kind of in a weird spot because we don’t hate each other but we can’t like each other. Oh yeah, and here’s the kicker, Eddie’s been a total asshole this entire time, and it’s fucked with my head a bit. But apparently, he wants to change!’

It’s a colorful mess of loopholes and twists and turns that probably nobody will fully understand aside from you and Eddie, so…. business thing it is.

Robin seems to take that as an answer, but Nancy is now intrigued by your tone, “That didn’t sound very sure.” She playfully raises a suggestive eyebrow. Robin hums, “What happened to it being none of our business?” She points out, to which Nancy just waves a dismissive hand in response. “It’s a business thing, but…” Nancy prods. Your face warms as you lift your shoulders in a shrug, “I mean, it’s… it’s complicated.”

Nancy nods with a shrug as she shifts in her seat, “So, how did you two meet?”

You take a deep breath as you lean to rest your elbows on the table, “Well, I’m a writer for Rolling Stone magazine—” Robin gasps, grabbing your attention, “No shit? Nancy’s a journalist too— ow!” She turns to look at Nancy with a disgruntled look as she rubs her thigh, “Would you stop bullying me?” She frowns.

Before either of them can get far into bickering, Eddie and Steve come waltzing back to the table with drinks in their hands. Eddie snags a seat beside you and passes a drink to you; you smile as you gratefully take the glass and softly thank him. Steve plops down next to Robin, sliding her and Nancy their drinks as he says, “Alright, I hope everyone has their songs picked out because I plan on battling each and every one of you.”

Although the weather outside is on the more chilly side of summer days, you find your body warm with liquor and laughter as you, Nancy, and Eddie watch a tipsy pair of Steve and Robin sing a surprisingly good rendition of Huey Lewis’ Heart and Soul. You’ve shrugged off your sweater and tossed it over the back of your chair— and you’re thankful to have thrown on a tank top underneath because, most of the time, you hardly bother to wear anything beneath sweaters.

It’s their fourth song of the night, Eddie and Nancy have both gone up at least once, but you’ve been on the observant side mostly, enjoying the ongoing conversations you’ve had with Nancy. There’s a bowl of chips and salsa in the middle of the table, and Eddie’s arm is draped across the back of your chair, heat pouring from him and seeping all around to wrap you up in an Eddie-scented bubble— it’s nicer than you’d care or like to admit.

Nancy has turned around to watch and cheer on the performance; she’s become more animated and loose after a few drinks, and you laugh as Robin practically serenades her from the stage. You lean back in your chair, softly giggling as you slightly lean into Eddie, “So,” you grab your drink and glance at the boy on your side, “What’s the dynamic here?” You ask with a jut of your chin towards his friends.

Eddie hums, leaning further into his chair, and in turn, pressing himself closer to you. His breath is warm against your ear and cheek, curly strands brushing against your skin as he speaks, “So basically,” He dramatically sighs, and you smile at his dramatics as he gestures between his friends, “Nancy and Steve are exes from high school and Robin and Steve are best friends.” You nod, gaze darting between the friends as you connect the dots. “But,” He raises a finger over his glass, “Robin and Nancy are dating now.” Your eyebrows raise at the full circle of events, but you nod as your suspicions are finally confirmed.

Eddie leans closer, voice dropping to a lower volume, “But at this rate, it’s safe to say Nancy’s playing third wheel for Steve and Rob since they practically share one brain cell.” You tilt your head, “Okay, I see it now.”

Nancy glances over her shoulder to glare at you and Eddie from her seat, “I heard that, assholes… you’re not wrong.” She grumbles. You and Eddie laugh as she turns back to face you both now that Steve and Robin are hopping off the stage.

“Steve’s actually seeing a girl now; she’s in nursing school.” Nancy pipes up, grabs a chip, and pops it into her mouth. Eddie leans forward at that, keeping his arm on your chair as he uses the other to grab a chip for himself, “Nursing school?”

Nancy nods as she sips her drink, “He goes down to see her like every other weekend. And they run our phone bill up like hell.”

Robin plops down into her seat, “What are we talking about? Steve’s hot nurse babe?” She asks, humming when Nancy nods. Robin scoffs as she turns to Eddie, “Can you believe they’ve been dating for, like, four months, and we have yet to even see a picture of her? They see each other every week!”

Eddie snorts, “Then who’s he talking to on the phone?” Robin shrugs, “Who knows at this point.”

Steve returns as if on cue, sitting down with a sigh as he glances at the table, “What’d I miss?”

“Nothing, just talking about your imaginary girlfriend.” Robin teases.

Steve groans, eyes rolling before glaring at his giggling friends— your cheeks hurt from smiling. “She’s real, okay? She’s real, and her name is Cassie, and the only reason you haven’t met her yet is because she’s literally in nursing school— she has a busy schedule!”

And although you wish Eddie and you had been able to finish your discussion without the abrupt interruption, you find yourself growing fond of this shade of Eddie— sure, you’ve seen him having fun and being unapologetically himself with Gareth and Jeff and even on stage, but this side of Eddie is softer— kinder, brighter— homey.

You realize as you watch him singing his heart out to some mainstream pop song that Steve somehow talked him into doing. You’re more surprised that Eddie knows the lyrics, but you’re too tipsy to dwell on it because Nancy’s scooting onto the chair beside you and asking what song you two should sing because, “We have to outsing them, obviously.”

And, well, you hardly have the time to stop your lips before you lean in and tell her the song you’d like to sing. Nancy snickers, giggling at the obvious undertone of the chosen song, and she eagerly agrees because “He’s gonna shit his pants.”

You go back and forth on who will take which role— who will sing Tom Petty’s key, and who will sing Stevie Nicks's key— but then you eventually land on just singing together for the entirety of the song. When the boys finish their song, Nancy drags you up to the DJ to request the song and magically persuades him to let you skip the queue of people to go next. She’s a good flirt, that’s indisputable.

You should probably thank Nancy at some point for agreeing to this song regardless of how little information she has about your situationship with Eddie, but before you even get the chance to, you and Nancy are already singing the first line of the song— Baby, you'll come knocking on my front door. Same old line you used to use before— and well, Eddie’s head has never turned his head faster, but you avoid his gaze for as long as you can.

And you’re doing good; you’re doing so good, and then you get to the second chorus and lock eyes with Eddie as you sing along to the track with Nancy— Baby, you could never look me in the eye. Yeah, you buckle with the weight of the world. Stop draggin' my, stop draggin' my, stop draggin' my heart around— and, well… you think you made your point clear.

You and Nancy have a blast singing to Nicks and Petty, and when the song ends, the bar claps and cheers as they do after every performance, and you’re all smiles as you waltz back to the table, sitting next to the fidgeting boy you’d just indirectly serenaded. Steve and Robin are telling you and Nancy how well you did and teasing each other over specific parts of the performance, and they’re all so caught up in one another that they hardly notice as Eddie leans into your space, voice low and gravely as he speaks, “That was cruel, princess.”

You look at him, eyes falling to the ghost of a smirk that dances across his lips before you reach forward to grab your drink, wrapping your lips around the thin, black straw, maintaining eye contact as you shrug, “Did you get the hint?” You tease.

Eddie huffs around a laugh, shifting in his seat, left arm back to barricading the back of your chair, and you don’t fail to notice the tent in the crotch of his jeans. He rolls his tongue over his teeth, snickering when you raise an eyebrow, “Yeah… Yeah, I got the hint.” He nods, and you think you might see a pink tint dusting across his cheeks.

You smile, liquor making you bold as you blink up at him, “Good.”

It’s a long trip to the hotel with a pair of drunk best friends.

They ramble a lot— Steve and Robin— you come to find out, and Nancy and Eddie have become experts at handling them with ease. You realize this as you watch them get their friends tucked into bed. Nancy is tipsy, but Eddie informed you that she has a weird thing with tequila where she becomes highly functioning, so she’s moving about the room with grace and precision.

When the drunk pair is finally tucked into bed, Nancy walks you and Eddie to the door of the hotel room, thanking you for taking the time to make sure they got in safe. “I would say see you at breakfast, but I doubt these two will have crawled from the grave by then.” Nancy gestures back to Robin and Steve.

You don’t blame them; they’re basically on holiday, and you would do the same.

Your and Eddie’s rooms are on a different floor, and it’s a long ride up to the top, especially with the burning desire for one of you to say something— what, you’re not sure.

“I like your friends.”

That was you talking, you realize when Eddie turns to you with a smirk, “Yeah? They didn’t scare you off with their incessant shithead behavior?” He jokingly questions. You hum with a laugh, “I’ve dealt with worse.” You tease.

Eddie walks you to your room, his intoxicating smell and presence hovering around you as you unlock the door before stepping in. You turn around, hand resting on the edge of the door as you look at the curly-haired boy, “Good night, Eddie.”

Eddie hums, leaning against the door frame, eyes flickering to the twist of your mouth before reaching your eyes again, “Not gonna finish our conversation?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, “I hardly believe you’d be doing much talking if I let you in right now.” And you don’t think you’re ready to travel down that path again. Not so soon when you have the events of tonight to digest, not to mention the gift sitting in your bag.

Eddie shrugs with a small smirk, “I can multitask.”

His gentle smile is beautiful. Alluring and unique, and his eyes are taking you with such an intensity that you think you might melt if you stay a minute longer. “I didn’t choose that song for the hell of it, you know?” You ask. “Stevie’s got a mean fucking range. Lord knows if I’ll be covering her again.” You grumble. And really, how high can the woman go with her rasp?

Eddie laughs, turning his head and glancing at the empty hallway before looking back to you, “Yeah, I know,” He softly replies.

You nod and he takes a deep breath, nodding towards your bag slung over your shoulder, “Listen to the tape.” He reminds you.

You tilt your head, clenching the strap of your bag before speaking, “Are you under the impression that this would make up for everything?” You ask.

And you don’t mean for it to sound harsh or hurt his feelings, but you have to let him know that if that’s what he’s hoping, then he’s wrong. This doesn’t fix everything. This doesn’t fix the confused feelings and the harsh words. It’s a start, but it’s not a finish as well.

And although Eddie’s expression falters, he shakes his head, “No. But I still want you to listen.”

You nod quietly, gazing at each other and wishing you could start on a different foot. You clear your throat, straighten your stance, and step back. “Good night, Eddie.” You softly say.

By the time you finish showering and getting ready for bed, the only thing running on your mind is the pending need to sleep. The maids had changed out the seats so they’re not doused with the ghost of Eddie’s cologne and shampoo— but you don’t go long with Eddie out of your mind because there’s a hard object that pokes into your arm when you settle into the bed.

You groan, twisting your arm around your frame to dig out the small object from below you, and when your fingers wrap around the plastic case, you immediately remember the task you’d had for tonight— listen to the tape.

The sleep that weighed down on your body is suddenly gone as you sit up to grab your walkman and headphones before settling back into the comfy sheets.

You try your best to ignore the swirling feeling of nerves and excitement in your gut as you put on your headphones and slip the tape in, but you find yourself nipping at the skin of your nails as the tape winds either way.

It’s silent for a moment, the sound of shuffling and the soft thud of what you think might be someone setting a glass down. There’s a clearing of a throat— it’s Eddie, you can tell— and your stomach twists in anticipation at the first ring of a piano chord.

The beginning chords are soft and slow, gentle enough to lull you to sleep if you sink into it, and the recording is so vivid that you can hear the dull thud of each key beneath the press of his fingers.

Your heart races when Eddie’s voice seeps into the melody. It’s a ballad, something Corroded Coffin doesn’t have much of, and you wonder why because the softness of Eddie’s voice is arguably one of the most heavenly sounds to have ever touched your ears.

I'm feeling a way, off some kinda drug

Maybe it's lust, maybe it's love

I know I said I'd straighten out a week ago

I'm fiending though, 'bout to reach my peak, you know

The city's got me falling now

It’s… fuck, it’s fucking good, and you haven’t even gotten to the chorus, but god, your heart skips a beat at the following line because it’s a direct callout to you.

I'm fading away, I'm losing my head

I know you said leave, but fuck what you said

As much as you wish you could say you hate it… you don’t.

Even though the song is about you and your twisted relationship with Eddie— which definitely aids to your feelings towards the track— it’s genuinely a good song. Which, okay, is slightly annoying, but you can’t find it in yourself to care as the song carries on.

The future's never looked so bright, it's blinding me

It's hard to see, I'm swimming through dopamine

Your body looks like heaven and

I wanna give up, I just wanna leave

I'm floating away, I'm caught in the breeze

The outro of the song comes and slows down, a softer sound than before filling your ears, and shit— you’re at the edge of your seat now because Eddie is singing so gently, and it has your mind swirling.

I can't believe this is happening

What did I do? What did she do to me?

…

Mending my brain again

Please don't give up on me

This hurts tremendously

How will this end for me?

When the song dies off, you can hear shuffling again before the track ends, and you’re left with spinning thoughts as you take your headphones off and let the silent and dark room envelope you.

You have to take a moment, yanking the string of the bedside lamp to light up the room so you can see your thoughts more clearly because— how do you feel? You’re not sure, honestly, and the thud of your heart beating in your chest only clouds your judgment even more because— isn’t this what you asked for? For Eddie to be open and honest with you, to tell you his true feelings and where he’s at when it comes to you. And is it enough?

Would it ever be enough for Eddie to give you one simple, stripped-down track to allow him the chance to mend what he’d ruined?

Your heart wants it to be enough, but realistically, it’s not. Eddie has only just begun his journey to forgiveness, and you have to remind yourself that it’s not wrong to be hesitant to let him in, neither is it bad for you to want him as badly as you do. You’re both learning, and you’re both trying to fix the damage that’s been done, and it might take time, but if you both want it— if Eddie really wants you— then the time and work it takes to fix things won’t be a bother.

You listen to the song two more times, maybe more than twice, and you let the words sink into your bones until you practically have it engraved into your mind, lulling yourself to sleep with the haunting echo of Eddie’s voice and words bouncing in the walls of your skull.

And in your dreams, you meet Eddie, and for the split second you have with him there, everything is perfect— and by the time you wake up, the ticking time bomb to make your choice is now louder than it’s ever been before.

————

part eleven

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a/n: OMG HIII, you made it to the end again !!! i would just like to specify that the song eddie has written and sang for birdie in this chappy (23 x chase atlantic) is not entirely a nod towards their relationship! reader is not specifically 23 years old nor is she struggling with any type of substance abuse, the lines that were used in this chapter are the lines that actually adhere to them imo, OKAY I THINK U GET IT I'LL SHUT UP NOW.

also, this is not the last of the songs that eddie has written abt birdie btw🫣

i hope u enjoyed and i love love love reading any and all feedback as well as ur silly thots <3 AND AS ALWAYS, TY FOR READING, I LOVE U SO BIG MWAH <3

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@daddyhetfield @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly @nabiiturner @catherinnn @mossiswriting

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