#send me ya name and i’ll make a playlist!
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Fundamental Differing
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Chapter XVIII: I Gave My Life Away
pre warning: tags contain some non specific spoilers
warnings: 18+ MDNI mentions of a suicide attempt, alcoholism, narcotics addiction, depression. Adult content not meant for people under the age of 18. (spoiler for next tag!) Grinding/heavy petting, an inkling of smut. Angst, hurt feelings, heavy subject matter. reminder that this is fiction and i do not condone the actions of my characters! afab!gn!reader, they/them pronouns, rockstar!eddie, use of y/n lol i did not use y/n once!, pet names
a/n: i am… so sorry. that’s all i’ll say for now.
Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated.
—
January 1991
Eddie’s POV
“Eddie? Eddie!” The voice is familiar, but too far away. He can’t see anything beyond a spinning figure, but he feels the harsh slapping on his face before someone drags him by his armpits into the bathtub. “Cmon, man, please.”
Then there’s water, and it’s cold, and Eddie’s trying to move but he can’t, he can only cough and choke as the shower spray gets into his nose and mouth.
“Oh fuck, thank fucking God.” Then there are footsteps, and Eddie’s hauled out of the bathroom on a stretcher, the frantic voice following closely behind.
-
Present Day
Eddie’s POV
“Ed, they’re looking for you. Two minutes.”
Eddie nods, waving the security off and turning back to her. “You’re still in Ohio, then?”
“Yeah, seems it. Nothing really goin’ on here, though.”
“Isn’t that kind of a good thing?”
She shrugs, her lips pursed. “Guess so, if it means you’re here.”
Eddie chuckles shyly. “Well, I should get moving, or Steve will have my head.
She nods eagerly, wrapping herself tightly around Eddie’s torso, causing him to shift uncomfortably. He hasn’t seen her since before, and he realizes now he’s not that person anymore. It causes his heart to skip with anxious energy.
“See ya.” She sends him a wink, and he waves as she turns on her heel to venture back into the crowd.
The security guard is still there, humming the chorus to Under The Bridge as it plays out of the house speakers, leaning against the wall as he waits for Eddie to finish with the pretty, dainty girl he’s with, and Eddie returns to him like a scolded child. “Alright, let’s go.”
“That your girl?” He asks, making small talk with the rockstar he has likely no interest in.
Eddie shakes his head. “God, no. A friend, maybe. Not even that much, not anymore.”
“Guy like you doesn’t need to dwell on that, man. Sure you got plenty of ladies lined up for a chance with you.”
He snorts, amused by this guy’s casualty. “You’d be surprised.”
The guard escorts Eddie all the way to the stage, where Steve is seething and huffing about, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Sorry, sorry. Ran into someone.”
Steve’s expression softens slightly at the mention. “Was it-“
“Yeah. But it’s fine, really. Civil, even.”
“Right. In that case, I’m still mad at you,”
“Sure, of course. Can we hold off on my discipline until after the show?”
Steve runs a hand through his hair, breathing deeply as if to prevent himself from taking a swing at Eddie. “Fine. Go.”
Eddie bows his head to thank him, and takes his place next to his bandmates, who’d been left waiting restlessly for their frontman, again. “Hey-“
“Shut up.” Jeff silences him. “Don’t wanna hear it.” And it’s fair. They shouldn’t have to listen to his excuses. He’s supposed to be working on himself, and all he’s managed to do is piss off the people that matter to him most. The house lights dim, and Eddie watches as the crowd grow feral, shoving toward the stage, shaking the metal barricades standing between them and the stage. His heart thumps in his ears, in time with the crowd’s eager chants of “COFFIN, COFFIN,” a command he’s inclined to obey. It drags him forward, led by his band onto the stage to present themselves to a mass of people that want to tear them apart.
The stage lights up with the first chord, and Eddie hears the audience beyond his monitor. He looks back to Gareth, who’s awestruck at the noise, then to Jeff who holds his hand over his chest, genuinely thanking these people for coming. Eddie wants to feel it, too. The warmth these people seem to offer his friends, but he’s somewhere else. He can’t get used to it, like he’s wearing shoes half a size too small. It makes him shift uncomfortably inside his skin, constantly feeling the eyes of thousands on him, relying on him, there for him. It’s then that he realizes he’s sober on stage, for the first time in five years.
He’d stuck to his word, now twenty four hours without consuming a drop of alcohol. He feels his chest tighten, like a hand made of knives has broken open his ribcage to squeeze his heart until it pops. His lungs will fill with his own blood and he’ll choke, he watches as it flashes before him, a panic stricken fantasy but Eddie wouldn’t say unrealistic.
His friends are looking at him. The crowd is calming with their increased confusion; a late start and now a strange, empty pause. He has to fill it. He can’t find you, and he’s taking too long, and it’s starting to confuse his band, so he shouts into the blackness “HELLO, COLUMBUS!” and the room combusts with the release of tension. “I am so sorry we’re late. Thank you for waiting. Let’s burn this fucking place down.” Gareth hits his sticks together, both a warning and a courtesy that there’s no stopping now, and Eddie rides the momentum. He nails every incoming note without thought, and he can feel the vibrations through the building, both of the music and the crowd. He gets the same rush he used to, when he was wide eyed and bushy tailed, younger and in love with the life of a rockstar. For a second, he feels it again, in the same place he’d felt the least alive at this time two years ago.
-
Your POV
“What the hell!” You stomp up to Steve, screaming over the noise of the stage into his face. “Tell me what the fuck is going on.”
Steve only smirks. “How does it feel, huh? To not have a fucking clue what’s going on? He’ll tell you. I can’t-“
“Blah!” You throw your hands into the air, “I get it, you can’t tell me. Just… who’s the girl?”
Steve’s smile only grows. “Are you jealous?”
You groan, more from exhaustion than embarrassment. “Of course I’m fucking jealous, Steve! Don’t play dumb! Please, don’t make me feel stupid.”
His face falls, and he grabs you by the shoulders, jolting you into focus. “You have nothing to worry about. That I do know.”
It’s not enough, but it’s all you’re gonna get. You can’t help but respect it, the commitment to keeping Eddie’s business to himself. Truth be told, Steve is probably dying to tell you. “It’s that big, huh?” He nods sadly, and you mirror him in understanding. “But he’s going to tell you. He’s gonna tell you everything, and it’s gonna be a lot to digest. So I’ll be here when he tells you.”
“Steve, you’re scaring me.”
He nods. “That’s my intention. You might not get the answers you want, but you’ll get answers.”
-
You watch the tail end of their set with your brain going in circles. What could Steve possibly mean, the answers you don't want? What answers do you want? Who’s the girl, for starters. But mostly, what happened, in the two years without contact? What made you so angry? You can’t imagine an answer heavy enough to break you, not off the top of your head. Whatever it is, you want it. Even if it’s just to understand Eddie a little more. Even if it means he can’t be with you. Even if it means you have to let him go.
“Thank you!” Eddie shouts after the final note of a song you couldn’t name. “Thanks for comin’ out, Columbus!” The crowd shrieks, ratting your brain inside your head. “And give it up again for DEATH DANCE APPROXIMATELY!” The crowd politely continues cheering, and a small girl next to you sends you a bright smile. “So, so grateful to have them on this whole tour with us, you have no idea.” Eddie laughs bashfully, out of character for him to do while on stage. It’s a small thing, something you shouldn’t have noticed, but of course you did. He’s nervous. You squint, as if it will help you read him better, and it doesn’t. “This is our last song, I wanna hear you all. Loud as you can, alright?” The crowd whoops, and Corroded Coffin start in on Sweetheart, and you almost choke on your tears immediately.
Eddie has always said the closing song is the most important. It’s the one freshest in their mind, the one that will stick with them the most. It has to be perfect. He’d never used Sweetheart as the closer, and it’s obvious Gareth and Jeff weren’t ready for it, probably assuming Eddie skipped it reading the setlist. Eddie’s voice shakes slightly as he sings, but it’s perfect. His eyes stay closed the whole time, and you desperately wish he’d open them, find you in the wings, and sing the words to you again. Like he had, any time you’d asked him to just because you could. You sing along, lose yourself in the lyrics for the first time in years, actually hearing the words meant for you.
And then it’s over, and they’re thanking the crowd and bowing, and walking off stage, and even though you know you’re gonna see it all again night after night, even though you have seen it tens of times already, you miss it. The feeling of a shrieking crowd feeling all of their feelings while you feel yours. The feelings you hope you can give to your own audience. You feel like a teenager seeing their favorite band for the first time, and you’d forgotten how good that felt.
Robin seems to appear from thin air next to you. “Hey!” She semi-shouts over the bustling crowd. “Are you crying?” It’s a question you should absolutely be used to by now. You hadn’t noticed this time, though. “Oh!” You sniff, wiping a tear from your cheek. “Yeah, guess I was. Not sad, though.” Not necessarily true, but for now a nonissue.
“We’re all goin’ out tonight.”
You shake your head. “I’ll catch up.” She frowns at you. “It’s okay! I’ll tell you everything I can after.”
The possibility of a gossip session soothes her curiosity, and she squeezes your arm before continuing to wiggle through the crowd. You follow her backstage, into the massive dressing area backstage, where Eddie sits with his bandmates in a circle of metal fold out chairs, each of them holding a beer. Besides Eddie, who fiddles with the label of his water bottle.
“Right!” Jeff pats Eddie’s knee as he speaks, “We’re goin’ out. celebrating our biggest show to date.”
It’s then that Eddie lifts his eyes and catches you staring. You don’t bother averting yours to the floor, already having been caught red handed. “Do you guys mind if I sit this one out? I uh, have a prior engagement.” The girl, you’re sure. The girl you have nothing to worry about, the girl Eddie knows in the nowhere state of Ohio. You chew on the inside of your lip until you draw blood, anxious and suddenly unsure of everything Steve had tried to warn you about.
“Yeah, man, of course. Come out if you change your mind, though.” With that, Gareth and Jeff exit the room, and your friends follow suit soon after, leaving you and Eddie alone.
-
Eddie’s POV
Now, I have to do it right now. “Hey,”
You face him, eyes wide with questions he so desperately wants to answer for you. Your hands are clasped tightly together, your knuckles white and arms flexed, jaw clenched. “You wanna get some coffee?”
Your nod is vigorous, and he holds his elbow out for you. You quickly latch onto him, and Eddie feels just how anxious you must be. He can’t imagine where your head’s at, with your nightmares and your constant, irritating habit of caring about him so much. He’s exhausting you, and all he wants now is to let you rest.
Eddie asks a remaining staff member to escort the two of you out the back way, and into the warmth of the summer night. “Is there even somewhere that sells coffee around here? Let alone somewhere that’s open?” You joke, and he chuckles.
“I guess I didn’t think that far ahead. Ah!” He points down the road, to the glowing 7-Eleven sign. “Onward!” You laugh, and it floods through Eddie, like it’s drenching his head in ice water, refreshing him. He’s since dropped his arm, but yours stays locked around him, like if you let go he’d run away. As if he’d ever think to do such a thing.
He breaks the thick silence finally, after several minutes of walking through it. “You uh, said you wanted to talk?”
You look up at him. “I did?”
“Yeah, uh, this morning? We didn’t really get the chance.”
“Oh. Oh, yeah I guess so. I just,” You shake your head, frustrated, “I have questions.”
“Okay,” Eddie shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant. He wants to give you the answers. Finally, he wants to be completely open with you.
“Okay?”
“Yeah, shoot. I’ll answer your questions.”
“Any of them?”
“All of ‘em, sweetheart.” He can’t help it, he loves watching you shy away at the nickname, cute and soft, under all that armor.
-
Your POV
“Okay…” You have to be careful. One wrong move, and he’s shutting you out again. “Where’d you go tonight?” A subtle way to ask it, you think. Not accusatory, just curious, bordering on nosey.
“I ran into an old friend. From group.” You snap your neck, catching the words he says so casually.
“Group?”
Eddie nods, “NA-slash-AA.”
This is nowhere near where you thought this conversation would go. Every question you’d had crumbles at his answer. “What?”
“I’m more of a casual attendee, lately.” You feel your head fill up with more questions, and you’re drowning. “When did you-“ You’re expecting him to cut you off, but he waits. “When did you start going to meetings?”
Eddie looks to the sky as if to find the answer in the blackness above. “Early into 1991. There was still snow on the ground.”
“What um,” You’re walking the tightrope here, and you heed Steve’s warning. “What made you decide to go?”
Eddie looks at you again, his expression sad. “Had a really, really bad night.”
“What happened?” You ask, too quickly. It’s not fair, and you don’t have any right to know the answer, but Eddie snorts a laugh, like this news isn’t breaking your heart to learn. “Steve saved my life. I’m surprised he hasn’t divulged this story to you, even with the fact that I begged him not to tell anyone. Took me years to even tell the guys. I had gotten so bad, I didn’t care what happened to me. I was drinking myself to sleep every night, wallowing in self pity, barely able to function. I was worse than any time before. Worse than I was when you’d called me that night.”
“What night?”
“You were drunk, you probably don’t remember. Sometime in September of the year before, I’d been up all night trying, and you called me at home.” The memory comes back in a tidal wave. You’d just finished recording your EP, your first cohesive body of work, and with it had been signed to Sub Pop. Things had been looking up for you after cutting things off with him in July, but somewhere far away, Eddie had been drowning.
Before you can say anything, he continues, “Anyway, we were on a kind of hiatus as a band, had been for about a year at this point. I had nothing to get me out of bed before three in the afternoon, nothing to distract me from my pity party. I went out every night, drank until I couldn’t see, and did lines in the bathroom with people I didn’t care to know. I probably slept with six or seven different people a week, sometimes more. I couldn’t stop, because then I’d have to feel my feelings, and I was so afraid of them. One time,” He has the gall to chuckle, “after I got kicked out of a bar in New York for trying to fight the bouncer, I was so wasted and beaten that I fell asleep in my front yard with my pants around my ankles. Really glad I don’t have neighbors.”
It all pours out so easily now, like he’s telling you about his trip to the grocery store. “I uh, only got worse after that.” He stops, and you look up at him, waiting with wide, stinging eyes. “You sure you want me to keep going?” You nod. You don’t want to know, but you have to. As much as you suspect it’s gonna hurt, it means something that he’s finally willing to tell you.
He pushes forward. “On New Year's Eve of ‘91, I mixed whiskey and Steve’s Xanax. Way too much of it. Harrington found me passed out in the bathroom of my hotel room at around 1AM and called an ambulance. I'd written a note and everything.”
He pauses again to let you digest it all, and the silence sends a piercing ring through your ears. The words coming out of his mouth feel so far away, disconnected from the mouth they’re coming from. You’d never known Eddie to give up. Nothing had stopped him before; from finishing high school, from getting out of Hawkins, from being a rockstar. Regardless of how angry, or frustrated, or beaten he'd gotten, Eddie had always bounced back.
He finally pulls you from your thoughts. “That was the worst of it, but it had been a long time coming. When we were,” He gestured lamely to the air, “seeing each other, I was usually either on a run or coming down. I didn’t hide it well, I was almost sure you’d known, or at least suspected something. I was so angry and twitchy all the time. As much as I wanted to, I knew I couldn’t bring you into it, though. I never wanted you to know, and in a lot of ways I still don’t. Actually, please tell me you don’t wanna know. I’ll shut right the fuck up.”
“Nice try, but you underestimate how nosey I am.” He laughs, and you smile despite it all. “When did you start, I guess doing coke?” He doesn’t think about it for long. “Ironically, New Year’s Eve 1990 was the first time. I was a pro at it by May. I'd been drinking heavily for years by then, guess I wanted to jazz it up to ring in the new decade.” He stops walking and pivots to look at you, suddenly eager, and in no way aware of how jarring what he’d just said was. “Do you remember when I would get nosebleeds all the time, or when I’d sneeze and there’d be a giant snot bubble?” You nod, your face contorting with disgust at the memories. You remember a specific time, when you’d been making out with him in his hotel room in Boston, and his nose had just started dripping blood onto your bare chest. He’d gotten so pissed off at himself he’s left without putting his shirt or shoes back on. “Yeah, that had nothing to do with the humidity. Deep down, I think you knew that.”
He’s right, but you can still feel the crack in your heart spiderweb and spread as you hear these suspicions about Eddie confirmed.
“When was the last time?”
“The first or second night of the tour, I think.”
“Are you still drinking?” Dustin’s question makes more sense to you now. You wonder how he’d found out.
Eddie hesitates, as if fighting himself on whether to answer truthfully. “I didn’t today. It’s the first full day I’ve gone in a while. Touring is always difficult, and I’m sure you understand why this time is uh, particularly stressful.”
“Because of me.” Obviously.
“Because I know how badly I’ve hurt you, and because I know I haven’t made it up to you yet. I haven't earned your trust or even your time by any means, and I hate that you’re seeing me like this when you should be enjoying your first full US tour.” He chokes the last words out. You’ve stopped walking again, waiting at a deserted intersection, not yet ready to cross. “I’ve been fucking up recently, which is why I haven’t said anything. It’s not because I don’t want you. I want you so, so much. I just can’t do it yet.”
“Eddie,” You reach for him, and he lets you. You hold his face in your hands, feeling his flushed cheeks warm your palms as you look at him under the streetlights. “You don’t earn things like help and support, Eddie, not from people that-“ You pause. Not now, it’s not fair. “People that care about you. Thank you for telling me, I can’t imagine what you must be feeling; surrounded by triggers at all times, having to see me so much. I never would have agreed to the tour if I’d known—,“
He cuts you off, shaking his head, wafting the scent of his shampoo at you. “Don’t do that, please. This is not your fault, this is my own undoing. You are exempt from blame here.”
“I wish I’d known you were struggling. I wish I could have helped.”
Eddie traps your hands with his own on his face. “I know. I do, too.”
A sob shoves its way through your lips, and you can’t rebuild the dam fast enough. You’re crying, ugly sobbing with snot and mascara painting your face into a sad clown. It may be a cry of relief, having finally understood where your love had gone, so to speak, and seeing a glimpse of him right now. A version of Eddie happy, warm. He smiles at you, a big, beautiful smile, but his eyes are so sad. “I wish I had known to ask. Would have saved us both so much trouble.” Eddie drops his hands to your waist and pulls you closer to him, your coffee quest long forgotten. “I am so sorry.”
“Thank you.” You do not fight it, because there’s so much for him to be sorry for, regardless of if you want the apology. You trust that he means it. “I won’t push you for anything else. But I need you to ask for help, when you need it. I'm not gonna turn you away.” You wrap your arms around his torso, as physical proof of your words. You feel his arms as they surround your head, and he pulls you further into his chest. His breathing deep and even, heart beating soundly, you let yourself inhale him, indulge in his closeness even for a second. You eventually start to pull away, but he catches you, and you crane your head up to look at him, your nose inches away from his. Eddie’s eyes flick to your lips. It’s a fraction of a second, but you notice because you always do. You mimic him, flicking your eyes over his soft, pink lips and back to his deep, sweet brown eyes.
He moves first, but you’re quick to follow, and Eddie catches your lips with his, and you fight the urge to once again burst into tears. The kiss is one you haven’t felt in so long, like sleeping in your own bed after months being crammed inside a van or a two star motel. It’s a deep, yearning type of kiss you hadn’t known you were missing. Eddie moves a hand to cradle your head, like he’s holding the most valuable thing in the world. He’s gentle, almost timid, like the wrong move will ruin everything, break you both into pieces you won’t be able to fit back together. His lips are so soft, with no aggression or anxiety behind them, no nervous, frantic energy like he needs to consume you before you disappear. He takes his time, and you swim in the calm of it all. You rest your hand on his jaw, your finger lightly brushing his ear, the other stuck with your palm against his chest, squished between your bodies.
The last time Eddie kissed you like this was the day before he almost died. Before he cut that stupid sheet rope and tried to be a hero, he’d held you like you were the only thing on earth worth dying for. This time, though, there’s no rush, no impending doom to cut it short. You wonder if you’re pushing it, if this is too much for him, because it’s almost too much for you.
You pull away for a second. “Is this allowed?”
He quirks an eyebrow. “I think I know what you’re asking, but what do you mean?”
“Like, while you’re recovering. Shouldn’t you be more focused on that?”
Eddie shrugs. “Probably. And I will be. But I’m sober right now, at least, and all I can think about is you. And now you know everything, and you still kiss me like I’ve always been worthy of it. Even when I’m still not.”
“Do I really know everything now?” You lace your fingers through his and resume your walk.
He looks at you. “Do you have more questions?”
You have so many, but you’re so tired, so emotionally drained. “What do you think about, when you think about me?”
Eddie snorts a laugh at your question and you hide your face in your free hand. “Nothing good. You’re under my skin, doll. Always have been. Hey, look at that,” you look to where he’s pointing, the bright lights of the 7-Eleven store. “I’m kinda over coffee. You wanna watch a movie? For old time’s sake?” You nod wordlessly as your heart skips about, and he opens the door for you so you can grab some snacks instead.
-
Another hotel room, with boring white walls and bright white bed sheets. Eddie’s suitcases already sit in the corner, placed there by the hotel staff, complimentary mints on the pillows. Eddie flicks the bedside lamps on before fiddling with the remote, and you immediately realize, you’re once again without your own clothes. “Could I borrow-“ Eddie throws a shirt that lands perfectly draped over your face and you’re overwhelmed with his scent. “Thanks.” You deadpan, removing the fabric. He’s tossed a pair of his shorts onto the bed in front of you as well, and you’re silently grateful, because you wouldn’t have asked for them. He quickly flings his shirt off his head, and you watch as he swaps his jeans for a pair of worn flannel pajama pants.
Eddie then clicks the TV on, searching the channels aimlessly for something to watch before quickly giving up, muting it on a late night talk show. “How are you doing?” He’s already sprawled on the bed, resting his head in his hand to look at you, still in your clothes.
“I’m just digesting, I guess.” You face away from him to pull your sweat soaked shirt over your head and toss it on the floor, feeling his eyes on your bare back. You never wear a bra onstage, but you’re regretting it now. You yank Eddie’s shirt over your head to hide your butt as you yank your tights down, suddenly very aware of the color of your panties: red, and far too lacy for these circumstances. You yank Eddie’s boxers up your legs, and feel decent enough to face him again.
“We have to stop meeting like this.” He blurts as you slide into the space next to him, on top of the covers still.
“What do you mean?”
“After dark, sharing a bed, sharing my clothes,” He gestures to you, dressed head to toe in Eddie Couture. “Someone might see us. People are gonna start getting suspicious.”
“You think they’re not already?” You shift to lay on your side, now looking at him straight on. “We aren’t exactly being discrete as of late.”
He gives you a half shrug. “Does it bother you?”
“Does what bother me?”
“The fans, making assumptions.”
You think about your choice of words. “I thought it would. I think it bothered me more that they weren’t right.”
Eddie cracks a goofy smile, and you swat at him uselessly. “You want to be having a steamy secret affair with the douchebag frontman of Corroded Coffin?” He teases, poking at you.
“Oh, shut up.” There’s no malice in your voice. “You know what I mean. They have it all figured out. We’re together, in love, not ready to share it with the world or whatever. Much less complicated than whatever it is we’re actually doing.”
Eddie considers this for a moment. “Guess that’s true. I don’t think I could explain any of what we’re doing to Steve, let alone the public.”
You sigh. Poor, ignorant Steve. There’s only so much you’d be able to tell him for sure. “He’d have a heart attack.”
“I’ve already spooked him enough for a whole lifetime, I can’t drop this bomb on him too.”
“Let’s not worry about that. We don’t even know what we’re doing.”
“I just know I wanna keep doing it.” The way he says it sends you reeling instantly, drawing you into him, closing the distance between his lips and yours. You melt into him, wrapping your leg around his waist as he grips the flesh of your hip. Your hand slides effortlessly into his hair, tangling around your fingers, pulling a moan from Eddie’s throat as you tug him further into you. You can feel his gentry twitch in his pants, only a few thin layers of fabric separating him from your core. You roll your hips against him, sighing as his tip bumps against your clit, desperate for friction.
Eddie moves, latching his lips onto your throat causing your brain to fog. Your chest heaves as he nips at your skin, marking you, making your head swim with pleasure. You feel his fingers toying with the hem of his t-shirt, his calloused fingers sliding under the fabric to caress your skin, sending chills up and down your whole body. You shiver, and he pulls away. “Wanna stop?”
“Shouldn’t we?”
“That’s not what I asked.”
So you kiss him again, hungrier now. You help him yank his shirt over your head, abandoning it on the floor next to yours. Eddie shifts again, pressing your bare chest against his before breaking the kiss suddenly. “May I, uh,” He stutters like he’s a nervous teenager again, as if he’s seeing his first pair of boobs ever.
“Please.” You sigh, and it propels Eddie on, shifting down the bed until he’s eye level with your chest.
“God, I missed you.” He rasps, and you don’t have time to ask if he’s talking to you or your tits before he runs his tongue over your nipple, pulling a whine from your throat. You feel his other hand slide down your torso, freezing when it reaches the waistband of his boxers. “Sweetheart?”
“Yeah?”
“Would you let me take care of you?”
—
chapter XIX
haha hehe hahahahah ha ha. ha
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#eddie x reader#eddie x you#eddie munson fanfic#rockstar!eddie#angst#smut#fluff#more angst#st4#stranger things fanfiction#strangerthingscentral#90s au#au where eddie lives#fd#new kid fic#munson#afab!reader#gn!reader#they/them!reader#fics#y/n
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For the mini playlist ask game, you can either do my name (Moth) or if you want, you could do a playlist w Edward
why not both? :•) ❤️
My Baby Just Cares For Me - Lou Hayter
Only You and Rock and Roll - Redbone
Turn on, Tune In, Cop Out - Freak Power
Have A Good Time - The Brand New Heavies
and
Everywhere - Fleetwood Mac
Distant Sun - Crowded House
Why Does My Mind - Hot Chip
Augustine - Vienna Teng
Rock Steady - Aretha Franklin
Don’t Let Him Fool Ya - Prince
Send me your name and I’ll make a mini playlist with the letters!
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KITTY'S 100 CELEBRATION! <3
(this will go on until this post isn't pinned anymore)
-- 🎧thank u all sm for 100 followers! i didn't think i would get this many in such a short amount of time!! i love u all sm and i am so grateful for all my moots (yk who u are) and all the support they have all given me over the time i've been here. i'm celebrating my 100 followers by doing an event/celebration thingy? here ya go!
-- 📼 mixtape! -- send me this and i will make u a playlist on what vibe u give me!
-- 💌 love letters! -- send me this and i will write u a love letter (moots only!)
--📄comfort letter! -- send me this, your name and your comfort character from stranger things or a celebrity and i will write a letter from them to you!
-- 🎥vintage moods! -- send me this and i will make a pinterest board based off of our relationship! (moots only!)
-- 📌FMK! -- send me this and then give me three characters and i’ll tell you if i’ll fuck , marry or kill them!
-- ❤️i love u -- send me this and i will shower u with love and i will tell u what i love abt u and ur blog! (moots only!)
-- again tysm for 100!! bye bye!
tagging some moots! — @moonlane @angelzone
@n0agranger @mayfieldkisses
#kitty's 100 follower event#kitty's asks <3#stranger things#stranger things 4#noah schnapp#stranger things headcanons#fmk game#🎀- kitty’s events!
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Hi~ if you're still doing the playlist game: fanny? 😊
hi ! yeah I totally am - hope you like it 🙂
f: fever - changmin
a: atlantis - shinee
n: new dayz - trendz
n: night & day - lovelyz
y: ya - huta
Send me your name and i’ll make a mini playlist with the letters in your name
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Hi Cobble
I'm formally requesting song suggestions, I've been looking through your recent posts about lyrics and your music taste is so nice and I need more songs to make my playlist a clean 40 hours
I'm really open to anything, music makes me absolutely normal (lies) so go crazy
HI hi hi hi hello hi :) have you heard of a band called los campesinos :))) you’ll love them trust me
okay in all seriousness i’ll just make a list of some of my recent (and all time) favorite songs in general for ya, if you like one of ‘em a Lot let me know and i can find others in the same vibe. if i don’t include an artist assume it’s by los campesinos! cause 90% of this list is lc because well. local man loves his stupid little british band
- i just sighed, i just sighed, just so you know
- we are beautiful, we are doomed
- rust - bears in trees
- you can do better (the album as a whole) by johnny foreginer
- knee deep at atp, both the lc and the lovejoy version though i prefer the lc version cause i’m a pretentious little fucker like that
- you, me, dancing!
- in media res
- romance is boring
- a heat rash in the shape of the show-me state
- nobody move, nobody get hurt - we are scientists
- the wizard of ahhs - blue foster
- smoky eyes - lincoln
- who fell asleep in
- hello sadness (the song itself but also just the album as a whole)
- broadripple is burning - margaret and the nuclear so and so’s (this one’s sad)
- drag me - tiny little houses
- a slow slow death
- the fall of home
- actually anything on sick scenes is great but i’m biased cause that’s one of my favorite lc albums
- tiptoe through the true bits
these are. all literally just songs that i’m thinking of off the top of my brain and going “yes i like this”
- could never be heaven - brand new (this one’s also sad)
- it’s called: freefall - rainbow kitten surprise
- cocoa hooves - glass animals
- glue me
- FUCK i forgot the name of this one hold on (this is not a song title it’s me being a dumbass)
- for whom the belly tolls
- avacado baby
- miserabilia
that’s all my brain is giving me. like i said if you like any of these in specific let me know i’ll send you more similar ones :)
#hello anon hope you’re having a good day :)#long post#go crazy go stupid anon. if you want i can dig up other posts of me giving lc reccomendations to people dodjdjdj
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Desire Chapter Ⅱ
Trigger warnings for this chapter: self deprecation, mentions of mental abuse, anxiety attack, and implications of self harm.
↳ Table of Contents
↳ Chapter Ⅲ: I'm dreaming, right?
Chapter Ⅱ: Emotional Rollercoaster
It’s been a few days since your lunch with your friend, and you wish you could go back to that day or even last week as you’re up to your eyeballs in work for this website redesign. You just finished a meeting with your team, talking about deadlines and how to improve the site which only added to your stress levels.
You leave your teams meeting, running a hand through your hair, “Fuck me.” You sigh, grabbing a stick of gum from the pack in your desk drawer, and turning your spotify playlist back on to help calm your nerves that were washing over you.
You take a deep breath, and start working again allowing your mind to go into a numb state so you could fully concentrate on your tasks at hand.
Your work is interrupted when you hear your discord going off in your headset. You give a quick glance over to your screen on your right thinking it was Armin, but had to look again as it wasn’t Armin’s profile picture that you saw. It was Eren’s.
You move your mouse over to the other screen, opening his message.
Eren: hey, how’s it going today?
You go to start typing, but you see his name popup on the bottom of the message again so you wait. Your fingers air typing over the keyboard waiting for him to send the message.
Eren: you busy tonight? Was just curious if you wanted to chat in discord for a bit?
Just us? No Armin?
Jesus, chill out.
Maybe he just wants someone to talk to, you aren’t that special to him.
Calm the fuck down.
You: yeah, i’ll be free tonight. What time you thinking?
Eren: how does 8 sound? By the time im done with work, getting home, food - ya know all the normal shit, that’d be the easiest time for me.
You: thank you for your evening schedule, ill be sure to keep that in mind LOL
You: that sounds good to meeee, don’t be late.
Eren: as if you have any room to talk miss im late to meet a new person
You: HEY THAT WAS ONE TIME okkaaayyy.
Eren: imma hold you to it, that you won’t be late, don’t disappoint me
Eren: ill see you at 8
Don't disappoint me?
Sir, I am a walking disappointment for the most part.
Rest of the workday goes smoothly, though the thought of just you and Eren chatting tonight keeps rolling around in your brain. It’s not like it was that big of a deal, just the two of you hanging out, you just figured he would still want Armin to be there considering Armin knew him first and Eren didn’t know you that well.
Around 6PM you decide you are done for the day, you let out a relieved sigh standing from your desk, “Oh man, I’m beat.” You stretch before leaving your office, standing in the hallway looking into your bedroom then back to your kitchen.
Dinner first, or shower first?
Uhmm..
Shower first so if need be I can eat while Eren and I chat?
Yeah, let's do that.
So you do just that. After finishing your shower you're walking into the kitchen and start your dinner, making sure you give Beanie her evening meal as well. Your nerves are a little more on edge this evening as you see the time is getting closer to eight, and you really just weren’t sure why.
You ended up chalking it up to the fact that he’s still a new person to you, and you just hadn’t gotten to that level of comfort with him that you felt with your other friends. And also maybe the fact that he didn’t say what he wanted to talk about either, could just be chats but your mind is racing at the thought of it being something else.
Girl.
You’re being crazy.
Why would he have anything bad to talk about? It’s not like you’ve known him long enough for anything bad to even have happened.
“Well here goes nothing.” You say nervously as you set your food down at your desk, turning your pc on.
You make sure to put on lo-fi beats to keep your nerves chilled, but didn’t want to put any actual songs on as you knew you’d probably end up singing them at random and you didn’t want your new friend to think you were crazy.
You open your discord and see no one is in your voice channel yet, though you are a few minutes early, you let out a small sigh, “Thank god.” As you click the channel to join not even a second later you’re hearing the ding telling you someone joined.
“Eren!” You say with small amounts of excitement laced in your tone.
“Hey (y/n), how you doing?” His tone sounds like there’s excitement there but also a bit of tiredness laced into it.
“Oh, just a little tired from working today. It kind of kicked my ass honestly.” You let out a small laugh. “How are you doing, though? You sound tired.”
It sounds like he’s stretching, letting out a small groan, “Yeah, I’m always tired though so that’s nothing new for me. But other than that I’m okay. What happened at work?”
Trust me, I get being tired all the time.
“We took on a pretty big project recently, and it’s just a lot. I think it’s a bit more than everyone on the team thought it would be so it was just stressing me out today honestly. But it’s alright.” You shove a fork full of food in your mouth.
“Are you always eating when you’re in discord?” Eren lets out a small laugh.
“Well,” You swallow your food, “To meet your schedule I didn’t have time to eat beforehand and I didn’t want to disappoint you.” You let out a small breathy laugh.
“So you’re a people pleaser than?”
Your eyes widen at his statement. “I guess so, but only for the right people, ya know?” Looking down at your desk, smiling.
Dude.
Do you hear yourself?
For the right people - you just fucking met him.
Eren gives you a small laugh, “So I fall under the right people, huh?” A teasing tone leaves his mouth.
“Least right now you do.” You tease back, a smirk on your face. “But who knows that could change, you could end up being an awful person for all I know.” You laugh.
He laughs back, “I’ll make sure to stay being the right person for you.”
Right person for ME.
Little ol’ boring me?
That’s not what he meant right?
Surely not..
You giggle, “I’ll hold you to that Eren.” You put some more food in your mouth, continuing, “So, tell me a little about yourself.”
“You waste no time huh?”
“Unless you had something else to talk about?” Nervousness washing over your tone.
“Nah, nah. Really just wanted to talk to you tonight is all.” You can hear him smile through the mic.
You let out a loud sigh, giggling, “Okay good, because I was honestly a bit nervous when you asked if we could chat tonight.”
You hear him messing with something near him, “Why? You thought I had something bad to say? We just met.” He laughs, as you roll your eyes to yourself knowing he was right but annoyed with yourself. Always wanting to overthink things.
You shrug to yourself, as if he was there with you, “Just overthink things a lot, plus you never know sometimes.” A sad laugh makes its way out of your mouth, your mind flashing back instances with you and Charley…
NOPE.
Fucking stop thinking about that asshole.
You’re literally talking to someone who has given you no reason to overthink at all, and yet here you are.
You change the subject quickly, not wanting to let your mind wander anymore. “So, have you always lived in Washington?”
“Not always. I moved here about two years ago to move in with my older brother. Been saving up to get my own place, but it’s nice that he’s been letting me stay here for this long. Moving in with him was a little..” He trails off, “Unexpected, honestly.”
You raise an eyebrow, “Oh?”
“Yeah, it’s fine though. Our work schedules are pretty much opposite of each other so I don’t see him that often which is fine cause we don’t always see eye to eye.” He lets out a small laugh.
You smile to yourself, “Do any siblings get along though, like come on?”
“True, but Zeke and I were never close until I moved in. So that’s probably made it worse honestly.” He laughs, “You have any siblings?”
You smile thinking about your brother Colt, “Yeah I do, younger though. Just by a few years.”
“Hm, I’m sure you actually get along with him though?” He laughs.
“For the most part. Normal sibling bullshit.” You smile, “How you liking Washington though? Armin tells me it rains all the stinkin time.” You laugh.
Eren lets out an exaggerated groan, “Yeah he’s not wrong about that at all. It’s good though, I like the area, people here are pretty nice and chill too. Plus working with Armin is nice,” He pauses, “Was a little worried about meeting people at the job, not much of a people person sometimes.”
You laugh, “Trust me, I feel that. But some people are worth it I’ve learned.”
You two continue talking late into the night enjoying each other's company. Eren shared more about his life before moving, how his dad was a doctor and it caused him and his family to have to move a lot when he was younger. He briefly mentioned a girl named Mikasa, who he said his family took in when he was child and how they grew up together. He talked about how Zeke was never really around until about three or four years ago, but until he moved in with him, they weren’t close at all. Eren said he was lucky if he saw Zeke once a year - if that.
You just listened to what he wanted to share, not prying too much into his past and just taking the bits that he was willing to open up and share. Your heart feels a little warm and fuzzy that he wanted to share so much of his past with you despite you two barely knowing each other.
“Fuck, I didn’t even see how late it was.” He sighs, almost seeming annoyed that we couldn’t talk longer.
“Yeah, I know. I was having a good time so I just kind of lost track of time honestly.” You giggle.
There’s a slight pause in conversation before Eren starts, “So, uhm. Tomorrow night?” He sounds almost nervous.
“What about tomorrow night?” You tease him.
“Well, you wanna do this again tomorrow night? If not that’s fine I get it.” His voice lowering as he speaks.
Why does he almost sound nervous asking me this?
It’s kind of..
Cute…
Nah, you didn’t just call someone you just met cute.
Get it together.
You give him a little laugh, “Yeah, we can do this tomorrow Eren. I’d like that. Same time?”
“If that works for you, then sure.”
You smile, “Of course it does, I’ll be here.”
You two say your goodnights, turning your pc off and heading to your bedroom. You get into your bed, covers pulled over your head as you scroll through twitter for a few minutes before bed.
Should I tell him thank you for opening up with me?
That’s weird right?
You sound fucking weird..
Let’s not scare him away.
You plug your phone in and go to bed before you start acting out on your thoughts.
The following morning goes pretty smoothly, after the stressful meeting yesterday you finally had a clear head and was able to work with no issues. Your mind was wandering a little bit as you found Eren messaging you throughout the day, asking how you were and how your day was good. Talking about your favorite bands, and favorite genres of music.
Your heart being filled with so much joy as you talked to him, you don’t even remember the last time you’ve felt this way. It was almost a scary feeling, such an unknown feeling to you. Maybe not unknown, but it had been awhile since someone else made you feel that way.
You shake your head to yourself, letting out an annoyed sigh.
He’s just a friend.
Stop acting like this is anything more to you, or him.
Unless..
Nah, shut up.
The joy left your heart as your mind flashes the words that Charley spoke to you before.
“You are nothing to everyone in your life. You’re worthless.” The words are still stinging you two years later.
“Fuck.” You’re wiping your tears from your eyes, sniffling.
Your eyes glaze over as your mind starts self-sabotaging itself, tears rolling down your cheeks as you aimlessly stare at your computer screen.
“You don’t even mean anything to me, bitch.”
It’s becoming hard to breathe, though you're gasping for air there isn’t enough air in the world right now to fill your lungs. You blink hard trying to bring yourself to the present.
“He’s not here. He’s not here..” You curl your fingers into your palm pushing your nails into your skin to distract yourself.
You’re frantically trying to get air to fill your lungs, pushing your nails harder into your palm.
“Breathe..” You inhale, slowly breathing out, “Breathe.. Fuck come on.” You breathe in through your nose and slowly push the air out of your mouth.
“He’s not here.. It’s fine, just breathe.” You continue to breathe in through your nose, and out your mouth, the pressure you’ve added to your palm releases as you start to feel control coming back.
Your body starts shaking, you’re sobbing at this point.
“Fucking fuck!” You scream out, your face is soaked with tears as you grab your shirt squeezing it in your hands. You cross your arms on your desk, leaning down and resting your forehead on your arms and you let yourself just cry.
“God, fuck you. Piece of shit is still lingering around two years later, what a joke.” You let out an annoyed laugh.
You run your fingers through your hair, standing up from your desk grabbing your phone and head out the balcony of your apartment.
The cool air brushing against your warm cheeks provides some sort of calming effect to your body. You unlock your phone and text Hitch, not able to keep this to yourself.
You: ssssooooooooooo
You: i may or may not have an anxiety attack about charley again..
You lock your phone, setting it down on the patio table taking a seat breathing in the fresh air. A few moments pass and you hear your phone chime. Turning the screen on, you see that you have a message from Eren, you don’t even bother reading it, swiping at your screen to remove the notification. You’d check it eventually but now was not the time that you wanted to check it.
You set your phone back down, pushing your body further into the chair, the back of your head resting on the top of the chair, closing your eyes allowing for yourself to relax.
Your phone starts ringing as you lazily open your eyes, putting the phone to your head, “Hello?”
“Babes! Sorry for the late response, I was in an important meeting. Are you okay? What happened?” Hitch’s voice is laced with concern. It had been a long time since you’ve had your last anxiety attack, let alone it being brought on because of him.
You breathe in, “It’s okay, sorry to kind of just dump it on you out of nowhere. I was just working, and my mind just started wandering and before I knew it, it was happening.” You sniffle, “I thought I was past this Hitch.” Silent tears roll down your cheeks.
“Well first off, please don’t feel bad that you said anything. I’m sorry that I wasn’t calling you sooner.” She pauses, you can hear her ruffling through some papers, “And I know, but sometimes in the healing process this type of stuff can happen. Just randomly came on?” Hitch might not know you better than Armin, but she knew you better than most. She knew it didn’t just happen randomly, but she didn’t want to just straight up ask you what happened.
She continues before you can answer, “You’re okay right? Nothing else happened?” Her tone sounded sad. You knew what she was talking about, but you had gotten a lot better with controlling those urges.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Nothing else happened, I promise. But I don’t know Hitch,” You take a deep breath, “Eren and I were just chatting and it just happened. Just hurting myself mentally at this point, I don’t know why I can’t just be happy and let that shit go. It’s so annoying.” You sniffle.
“I’m glad you’re fine. But I know it can be hard, I’m sorry it hasn’t been easier for you. I really am. I’d give you a hug if I could.” She completely ignores the Eren comment, but you figured she’d ask you at a later time.
You smile to yourself, “I could use a hug.” You let out a small laugh.
“Well babes, I do have to get going before my boss yells at me. Let me know if you need anything else, or if anything else happens. I love you, you know that right?”
“Yeah I know, I love you too Hitch. Get back to the grind, thank you. I really mean that.” You two say your goodbyes as you head back into your apartment.
The rest of the day goes relatively smoothly. When stuff like this happens, sometimes it’s just better that you ignore any lingering questions in your mind and just work on something. Music way too loud in your head phones as you keep working on your website project for work.
You shift your eyes to your right screen seeing that you have yet to answer Eren from earlier this morning. You decide not to read it, and you’ll just chalk it up to a busy day and just talk to him later this evening. You thought you’d be okay to read the message but you also didn’t think anything was going to happen earlier and well.. Something surely did happen.
We won’t be telling Eren this
Nope
Absolutely not
While you were feeling better from earlier, it did leave a bit of a damper on your mood. You’re just hoping you’d be back to normal before eight so he didn’t have to question you.
You kept working until a few minutes before eight, you didn’t want to give your mind the option to think about Charley again or any of the hurtful things that he said to you. Your wishes for your mood to change before eight were indeed not granted, you felt better but just had an overall weird feeling lingeringly over your whole body.
You join the discord right at eight, Eren already there. “Hey (y/n).” His tone sounded happy.
“Hey Eren. Whatta up to?” You save your work for the day, closing out of your programs.
“I’m pulling a you, and eating dinner.” He laughs, “You're not eating?”
“Nah, I just finished working for the day actually. So I haven’t eaten yet.” You rub your tired eyes.
“Oh,” His tone changes. “You didn’t have to get on if you had to work that late, I’m sure you’re hungry.”
“It’s fine actually, today was kind of rough so I just kept working to keep myself busy.” Your eyes watering again.
Get it fucking together.
He doesn’t need to hear you cry.
“You want to talk about it?” He sounds genuinely concerned.
Do we want to tell him about everything?
Excluding the part about him making your heart feel full of joy..
He doesn’t need to know that part..
“Uhm,” You pause, fighting yourself if you want to share or not.
“If not, that's fine. I totally understand, I just know talking to someone does help sometimes.”
A sad smile is on your face, “Yeah I know, I appreciate it. It’s just a lot.”
“I get it, still fresh type of thing?”
You look down, “If two years ago is still fresh, then sure.” You let out a small laugh.
“If it makes you feel any better, some shit happened to me almost three years ago and it still hurts like it happened yesterday. It took me a while to even want to talk to Zeke about it, let alone other people so I get it. No pressure, but if you ever want to talk about it, or anything, I’m here to listen.”
You smile to yourself, “I appreciate it Eren, I really do. Same goes for you.”
Fuck why is he being so nice to me?
Oh I don’t fucking know.
Probably because people can actually be nice and not have an ulterior motive.
After that Eren didn’t bring your day up to you at all for the rest of the evening. It was nice that he didn't try to pressure you into talking about it. You just wanted to forget about earlier.
He tried to cheer you up the best that he could, and it was working. He was sweet, making you laugh and saying goofy things to make you smile. Your attitude was making a complete 180 from when you first started chatting.
He started telling you more about himself, telling you that he had long hair that he had been growing out for a few years now.
“You aren’t one of those guys who looks weird with long hair right?” You snort.
“Wha-” He bursts out laughing, “I mean, I don’t think I do. I like it.”
You laugh, “I see. Well at least you like it.”
“You’ve never even seen me, I could look great for all you know.”
You smile to yourself, twirling a piece of hair around your finger, “Well, that’s true. Didn’t picture you in my head to have long hair I will say.”
He laughs, “I’m sure I look nothing like what you think I do.”
“Hm, better or worse?” You tease.
“Depends on what you like.” He teases back.
Are we..
Flirting?
“Imma start guessing what you look like, and I want just a yes or no.” You laugh, “It’ll be a little game.”
He laughs, “Okay, shoot.”
“Brown eyes.” You definitely pictured him with brown eyes.
“No.”
“Oh,” You laugh, “Blonde hair?” You question.
He snorts, “No again. So this is how you see me huh?”
“Well not now obviously.” You pout.
“Are you.. Are you pouting cause you were wrong?”
“Nope, I never pout.” You lie, and Eren bursts out laughing again.
“I’m not guessing anymore.” You laugh.
“What. Princess didn’t get her way so she’s just done playing the game?” He laughs.
Come again.
Princess?
Uhm, I think I’ve forgotten how to breathe.
He didn’t mean anything by that, right?
Right?
Your breath catches in your throat, too stunned to speak. You blink a few times, trying to form a sentence. “Yup, it’s my way or the highway.” You joke.
“I’ll keep that in mind. So, do you want to actually see what I look like?” He seems eager to share so you entertain him.
“Sure, why not. Since my mind thinks of you completely differently.” You tease.
“One sec, lemme find a good picture.”
You laugh, “Okay.”
“It’s coming your way.” He says, and in a few seconds you hear your discord going off. You move your mouse over to your messages.
“Oh.” Your mouth hangs open in disbelief over the picture he sent you.
Yeah..
He looks nothing like what I thought he did..
A/N: ooohhh man, i really like how this chapter turned out if im being honest. i hope yall like it too. thank you for reading and interacting with it, it really does mean a lot <3. see yall in the next chapter.
#aot fanfiction#eren aot#shingeki no kyojin#attack on titan#eren yeager#eren jeagar#eren yeager x you#eren yeager x reader#eren x y/n#modern setting#alternate universe#friends to lovers#strangers to lovers
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5,11,19
5) Shoelaces by Prince Daddy & the Hyena
when you hear a recognizable drum intro, you know you're in for a good time. i have a lot of trouble picking "favourites" from this album, but everything about this track is incredible and i could not stop listening when i first heard it. hell, it still returns unbidden to my mind all the time and it's a staple when i'm singing in the shower. just try to find a part of it without a catchy melody or a cool guitar part, i dare ya. can't be done! "good dreams scare me way more lately/ make this rotten heart weak/ soon as i wake up"
11) Entropy by Beach Bunny
i said earlier in one of these asks that kississippi's around your room is perhaps the finest crush song ever rendered, and i'm right, but this one is the next natural step in Catching Feelings. (pro tip: if you're really in it, they make a fantastic pairing queued up one after the other.) we've got the best guitar tone candyland has to offer, we got ooh-oohs (still count as whoa-ohs), we got a huge chorus that makes you wanna shout it out an open car window on a blue sky day. and you got bold declarations: "running away through the rain with you, darling/ makes me feel safe like you saved me from drowning/ i'm not ashamed, not ashamed, not ashamed/ i wanna kiss you when everyone's watching"
19) talkin johnny & june (your arms around me) by Field Medic and Al Menne
i don't really listen to much field medic--in fact, i can't name another song off the top of my head--but i'm a big fan of al menne's band great grandpa, and the sheer delightfulness of this little ditty makes me think that i really should listen to more field medic. i cannot refer to it as anything other than a little ditty. it's bright, it's folksy, it sounds like it's two friends recording a memo on their phone, it fits into my 'your arms around me' playlist, and above all it's a flawless love song for making it feel like i'm in it when i'm not. "i need love like/ oldies, there are/ bluebirds in the/ moonlight when i feel/ your arms around me"
send me a number 1-100 and i’ll tell you the corresponding song + my favourite lyric from spotify wrapped
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tagged in the url / song title game by @incalculablepower ft the lyric that speaks to me most from each song. i made a spotify playlist of all these songs, if we’re a discord or tumblr mutual hmu and i’ll send you the link.
u: untouched - the veronicas. no lyrics needed, it’s the feeling of screaming the lyrics when you’re just the right level of drunk. iykyk.
n: new slang by the shins. i’m looking in on the good / i might be doomed to never find
c: come over (again) by crawlers. get her name out of your mouth / you don’t deserve to mourn
o: old lovers in dressing room - keaton henson. did you love me like the way you wrote?
n: no children - the mountain goats. our friends say it’s darkest before the sun rises / we’re pretty sure they’re all wrong
t: the deepest sighs, the frankest shadows. but gretta ray’s cover for like a version - god’s gift to mankind. i am grieving the loss of myself with frightening malaise
a: always gold - radical face. you can blame me when there’s no one left to blame.
i: invisible - stacey ann. can we just press rewind / go back to a time / when we could say we were alright
n: northsiders - christian lee hutson. sometimes i imagine us way down the line / getting fat somewhere in the countryside
e: eulogy for you and me - tanya davis. god this song is such a balm for my anticipatory grief. i wanted to call your bones home but i didn’t get to.
d: death by a thousand cuts - taylor swift. gave you so much but it wasn’t enough.
h: hallelujah. the original leonard cohen version. what a genius. how to pick a favourite line? you say i took the name in vain / i don’t even know the name
y: ya hey - vampire weekend. how fitting ezra koening & leonard cohen sit next to each other. You won’t even say Your name / You say “I am that I am” / but who could every live that way? god i wish i could talk about faith + diaspora the way they do.
b: brother - matt corby. because as an aussie zillenial what’s a playlist without a song from dance academy? you couldn’t help out your own neighbour / you couldn’t tell it to his face / you were fucked up by the blame
r: retrograde - maggie rogers. how does maggie make music that is exactly what it feels like to live in this current moment, trying to find joy amongst all the darkness? listening when Stevie says mmm / “come out of the darkness”
i: i don’t live here anymore - the war on drugs. my memories like waves / is life just dying in slow motion?
d: daffodil - florence & the machine. a generation soaked in grief / we’re drying out and hanging on by the skin of our teeth
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TASM!Peter Parker x OC Roleplay 18+ only (Literate/Novella)
Heya! Looking for someone interested in playing an OC against my Peter Parker. I love chatter on the side and making a friend alongside writing together! Headcanons, plotting, playlists, you name it, I love getting creative and invested :) I’m up for discussing details and plots we both like but would prefer all characters to be aged up to college age. I’ll leave below some additional info but if you’re interested send me a FM or like this post and I’ll get to ya!
18+ only! I am 22 and won’t write with someone underage as much as a love and appreciate y’all!
EST time zone is where I am, so if you’re far off we might now be a match
I am a working adult so my time can be limited but as long as I can I will chat and respond daily, and if anything occurs I’ll let you know and ask the same in return
NSFW can be discussed but I am up for it if we are both comfortable, though I don’t prefer it to be a focal point or to be extremely descriptive.
#peter parker#peter parker x oc#Peter Parker roleplay#spider man rp#team!peter Parker#roleplay finder#roleplay#tasm peter parker
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He made me a playlist 💕💕💕🥰🥰.. he said some of the songs are recs and some are ones that make him think of me 😳😳 <333 ahhhhhh
Also .. he used to have his ex’s name in one of the playlists and now it’s gone and a playlist he had for her is gone too so 🤔 inch resting ..
Besides that he said he wanted me to make him a playlist.. and ahhhh I did it but I feel like it’s so lovey doves like it shows that I have a huge infatuation for him… I just hope he actually listens to it and likes it
>\\\> (o´ω｀o) /\… we’ve been talking almost everyday this week.. I wonder how long that will last… idk I should just enjoy it for now… I can’t tell if he actually likes me or not .. like ya he calls me princess sometimes .. but idk I feel like I’m the one showing more affection because I call him prince and babygirl (that’s somewhat a joke) and he sends hearts back occasionally .. but I can’t have that be an indicator if he likes me because last time a guy eva would send hearts he didn’t mean it romantically.. I mean i always say I’ll give him a kiss and he doesn’t seem to mind that.. idk I’m so confused and I don’t want to necessarily rush things because bigbrain moment was that love (or romantic relationships) take time and I gotta appreciate the processes of the relationship growing … but idk .. I would like him to maybe be a little more transparent on what he wants with me but then again I don’t .. I kinda like what we have right now.. idk how it’s gonna end but I’m gonna let it be… I like him a lot even tho I don’t even know the guy much I guess.. idk what I’m doing tbh .. but like I go on dating apps and I match with guys and idk I lose Interest or I don’t feel anything.. maybe it’s bc they’re not him?? Idk what I’m feeling tbh I’m a little lost lol
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hayley 🤠
Hazelverse // Moon Moon MoonAlbion // Babyshambles Your body lies // MarionLiberty Ship // The La’s Ego (Is not a dirty word) // SkyhooksYou’ve got her in your pocket // The White Stripes
🤠
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'till death blooms us art
Summary: You’d rather die loving him than never getting to see the sun ever again.
(“Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system. This number is not available. At the tone, please record your message.”)
Characters: Sam Wilson/Plus-sized Reader
Warnings: 18+ (no smut), strong language, Hanahaki AU, angst with a happy ending, weight insecurity, allusions to eating disorders, talk about death, blood, past domestic abuse and trauma, gun violence, original male character, book quotes, anxiety
Word Count: 12796
A/N: Thank you for reading! This fic won the vote during my 500 follower celebration and it's finally out now! This story has a lot of meaning for me, due to it being a bit of a metaphor for disorderly eating. I know that will make some people uncomfortable, but as someone who has struggled for a long time, I want to talk more openly about this kind of thing. Anyway, thanks so much for sticking with me and I hope you enjoy!
main masterlist | AO3 | playlist by @tripleyeeet
—STUBBORN WEEDS—
They are everywhere—covering the space of the sitting room like an overgrown garden made of glass and paint, canvas and pages torn from old waterlogged books, stained mugs filled with decaying brushes. Wanda walks through your room like it’s a maze, her fingers trailing over the air but never touching the art. She’s pretending she’s in a museum, or a gallery, or something fancier than what you could ever appear in, but a twinge of something akin to warmth stabs through your heart at the thought.
“These are incredible,” she says, not looking at you. “How do you do it?”
With a shrug, you bend down and pick up one of the canvasses from the floor, holding it out to look at it.
“I don’t know,” you lie.
White space in the shape of flowers, uneven and missing petals here and there, is outlined in streaks of paint that go every direction, in every different shade, hard edges and soft, blurred lines and covering the entirety of the canvas except for those spaces where flowers once sat, pinned to the medium.
“They are beautiful,” Wanda says.
Your nail sneaks under one of the dried chunks of acrylic and you chip it—a fleck of ultramarine blue falls from the painting.
When you turn, Wanda studies a different piece in careful hands. It’s a glass case, trimmed with shitty, shaky lines of gold you painted on a whim. But inside, between the thick panes, dried flowers painted over are encased in eternity, arranged to match their exact placements on the canvas where your brushes stroked life onto them, around them, through them. Two perfect pieces that once belonged together, separated like an act of Adam against his God.
Maybe they were meant to be together, but no one will ever know their story.
“They’re amateur,” you tell her, laughing. “I’m not much of an artist. It’s just for fun.”
She smiles at you, placing the glass piece down. “You have a talent.”
Wanda takes another turn about the room, another circuit, another spin. She looks at every piece in such focus, taking in every single detail, fingers stretching and curling as if she wants to caress the dried flowers, the dried paint, and feel their meaning. You wonder what she would say if she could read their minds—the art you’ve made. Would your pieces tell her the true meaning behind their existence? Or maybe they would laugh, or cry, or howl in pain.
But Wanda only stares, at the paintings and at you, a small smile on her face like she knows something you don’t. Like she’s keeping a secret. Is she keeping the secrets that the flowers have whispered to her when you weren’t looking?
“What inspired them?” she asks, the very tip of her nail tracing a different glass box filled with dyed petals reconstructed into a larger artificial flower, protected by its own display.
You wring your hands together. “I like flowers.”
She laughs. “That’s obvious. But what makes them special enough to paint? To—To make such lovely art out of?”
Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you place the small canvas you’d been holding back on the side table, crossing the room to your bookshelf. Your fingertip finds the spine of a hardcover book you’re too familiar with, pulling it out and into your awaiting hands. Sheets of paper, a little bent and crooked, stick out of the pages.
You crack it open, the dulling white petals of a daisy pressed flat between the crackling spine fluttering from between the black inked words, then fall to the floor at your feet.
“The Devil’s hand directs our every move,” you read. “The things we loathed become the things we love.”
Wanda stares at you as you fiddle with the book, tracing the words of the cover.
“Les Fleurs du Mal,” you say. “The Flowers of Evil.”
Gently and without word, she bows at your feet and picks up the drying daisy, cradling it in her pale hands, but you don’t have the strength to take it from her.
(“Hey there darlin’, it’s just me. I had to run some errands this morning, y’know how it is, so I’m out of the Tower right now. I was just wondering if you needed anything while I was out. Anything—really, anything at all. Even breakfast, or maybe a latte? Just a little pick-me-up. Well, give me a call back if you need anything. If not, I’ll be back soon. See ya.”)
—BETTER TOGETHER—
“Steven Grant,” you say his name like a curse, shaking your head. “This is why you spend three hours a day in the gym.”
Too busy shoving the first bite of his first hoagie into his mouth, Steve doesn’t reply. You roll your eyes, but the smile on your lips gives you away. When he’s finally swallowed, wiping crumbs from his mouth, he looks a little indignant.
“Are you calling me fat?”
“Well, you would be if you didn’t have that serum running through you.”
He frowns, brows furrowed, a little confusion on his face. “I thought it was because I work out three hours a day. And I’ll have you know—”
“—you work out six hours a day between your morning runs and training, I know, I know. I’ve heard it all before Steve.” You groan at the thought. “It’s like it’s your job.”
“It is my job. Saving the world and all that.”
“Okay, you really need to let America know that it’s giving you a complex, ‘cause if I hear one more thing about you saving the world, I think I’m going to scream.”
He shrugs, taking another gigantic bite out of his sandwich. Scraps of shredded lettuce fall out from between the buns and litter his plate. You pick at your own, pulling uneven pieces of sliced onion and stray pickles from the hoagie, content to sit and stare at it instead of eating.
Food is good. You brush the grainy crumbs of bread from your fingers. Food is good, but you just aren’t hungry. And you don’t work out three hours a day. Maybe you should start. Your body feels like a balloon with all your insides threatening to come up in a retch and choke you. Food is good. Food is good. You just have to pick up the sandwich and eat it.
Fingers shaking, you take the sub in your hand and stare at the corner where you mean to take the first bite.
“You good?”
Steve, still chewing, looks at you with concern clear in his crystal blues and it makes you put your food back down on the plate. Instead, you busy yourself with another sip of your water, nodding at him.
“Yeah. We can’t all be Steve Rogers, demolishing two hoagies in less than two seconds, y’know.” You throw in a snort, trying to sound nonchalant. “Wipe your mouth, Captain. You’ve got mayo on your cheek.”
He doesn’t, but him grabbing a napkin to embarrassedly wipe a nonexistent condiment from his face gives you enough time to pick your sandwich back up and contemplate taking the first bite. You’ve just gotta start with the first bite and the rest will go down.
But you aren’t hungry. How can you be hungry when you’re already so full? Stuffed, even. There isn’t room in your insides. All your organs are bursting. It’s so painful sometimes, the expanding of your skin to accommodate. Waves of sickness roll through you, spreading. Your stomach is stretched, bloated, filled with all the swallowed—
“What are you doin’ to my girl, huh Steve?”
The sound of his voice alone makes the ache inside of you dissipate, the nausea escapes from your throat, the anxiety twitching through your hands steadies. Your head perks up, shoulders rolling back as your entire body relaxes, and you look behind you.
And there, dressed in a tight blue polo and a pair of pants clinging to his legs like they were made for him, the very angel who blessed you, the devil who cursed you, the god of the fucking sun and everything it could ever touch, stands before you with a smile saved just for you.
Sam Wilson.
His dark eyes are piercing, like he’s trying to peel back the layers of your skin to see underneath, as he shoves his hands in his pockets and grins with all his teeth.
“Hey honey,” he says—simply and easily and not serious. Never serious.
Your lungs burn. Your mouth feels too dry to answer him.
“Oh, your girl?” Steve asks him, brows a little too furrowed to be joking. “When did she become your girl?”
Sam shrugs, walking toward the empty seat next to you, placing his hand on the back of your chair so dangerously close to your body that it makes you pull in a deep breath. His thumb could brush against the fabric of your shirt, run along the seam of your spine. And, goddamn, it should be illegal for him to look so casual and so unbothered while still looking that handsome.
Like this, you can smell the spice in his cologne, a powerful mix of something you’re sure is designed to drive you crazy.
He looks down at you, still hovering over where you sit, and throws a wink your way that brings heat to the surface of your cheeks.
“Aw, she’s always been my girl, ain’t that right? Tell him, darlin’.”
You stare at Sam for one second too long, breaking away to gaze down at your uneaten sandwich again. With every flutter that Sam sends down your stomach, the heaviness inside it seems to fade away. Your fullness is replaced by a familiar hunger—the rawness of your throat waning as a burning itch takes over. A cough is threatening to bubble up. You choke it back, smiling instead.
“He’s right, Stevie,” you say all bright and cheery again.
Steve meets your eyes with a stony gaze, unreadable, his blue eyes looking gray in the light. Beside you, Sam throws himself down in one of the chairs and pulls up to the table, hand still sitting on the back of your seat. His knees are spread a little wide, thigh resting against yours.
It’s so innocent but your brain thinks it’s so intimate. A lie. A lie.
In the end, Steve relaxes back, his eyebrows lifting as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. He tosses one of the sticky plastic menus toward Sam, nodding at it.
“Order up, man,” Steve says, his tone more neutral than you think you’ve ever heard it in regards to Sam. “But I’m not paying for yours. You’re on your own.”
At that, Sam laughs, full and robust with his face up to the ceiling. He rocks back in his chair, shaking his head, and he looks so beautiful even in the shitty sub shop that Steve drags you to for lunch every other week that it makes you ache and your lungs contract in an attempt to cough.
You swallow it back again, trying to even out your breathing. The itch in your throat is so bad that you almost pick up your sandwich to eat again, but your hand passes it up to take another few sips of your water. It’s cool, clear, refreshing—but it can’t make the tickle of the cough go away.
“So,” Sam starts once he’s finished ordering his own hoagie, “how’s that apartment hunting going? Found anything good yet?”
A frown forms, heavy, on your lips. You pick off a flaking piece of bread from your sandwich, watching it turn to crumbs underneath your fingers.
“It’s going,” you say, but anyone who ever responds to a question of how’s it going with it’s going is absolutely lying and it is absolutely not going—and maybe Sam knows that, or maybe Steve does, or hell, maybe they both do but it makes you look weak to admit that things aren’t going so well out loud.
And you—you can’t admit the truth, so it’s just better to lie about it.
You don’t want to leave the Tower.
“It’s going, huh?” Sam asks, his tone proving that he can see right through you. “You need help looking at some places or something?”
“Well—”
“You know,” he barrels through your words as if they are nothing, “I think I actually know a realtor around here. Maybe he can get you some leads on rentals or something. I could make some calls for you, honey.”
It’s not supposed to—Sam only means well, he always does, always trying to do so much for people—but it hurts to hear. Because you don’t hear him saying that he’s trying to help you out. You hear him saying he doesn’t want you around the Tower anymore.
Because, well, why would he want you there?
To him, you’re just an outsider. A girl who doesn’t belong. Someone who daydreams and doodles flowers on every surface as soon as she thinks of him. And you always think of him.
Before you can think about it, your hand flies to your mouth reflexively to hold back a cough. Instantly, Sam’s leaning closer and that damned hand of his falls soft against your back.
“You okay?”
There’s barely a moment for you to nod, signaling that you’re fine, before Steve’s got on his game face, all hard lines and furrowed brows and thin lips pressed tightly together.
“Hey,” he says, grabbing Sam’s attention. “She’s allowed to stay as long as she wants, alright? The Tower is her home now, too. So there isn’t a rush for her to find a place unless she wants to leave.”
The passion and care in Steve’s voice is strong, almost so overpowering it’s oppressive, and something rises up from within you and threatens to send salty tears careening down your cheeks if you don’t blink them away.
Sam raises his hands in front of him dramatically. “Okay, okay, I get it. I wasn’t trying to run her off or anything, just wanted to lend a hand if I could. Damn, Steve.”
Something changes at the table, then. It’s like a fog, thick and cloying, falls over the three of you and keeps you lethargic—so much so that the only words spoken in the next few awkward minutes are Sam’s thanks when the waiter brings his sandwich by.
You still haven’t even touched yours, and you hope it seems like you’re just waiting for Sam to get his, because Steve’s tearing into his second and by the looks of the mustard dripping down his fingers messily, he’ll be done any minute now.
But as you prop your head up on the table, leaning on your elbow boredly, Sam nudges his leg into yours to grab your attention. When you turn to look at him, he’s got that grin again, all pearly and white with the little crooked gap you think you could stare at forever as long as it meant he was smiling and laughing and happy.
“You gonna eat, girl?” Sam picks his sub up in his hand and gestures at you to do the same. God, he makes you dizzy just by talking. The butterflies in your belly are fighting tooth and nail against your organs, trying to take up all the space, but they aren’t really butterflies. The soft monsters in your stomach leave a taste on your tongue you can’t explain.
“Oh.” You mimic his movement and then Sam toasts his hoagie against yours with a chuckle.
“First bite,” he says, and there’s no thought in your head or balloon in your stomach and no bloated skin to make you second guess yourself.
You follow Sam, sinking your teeth into the bread of your sandwich, and its flavor explodes over your tongue just enough to take away all the bitter, floral, fragrant taste of the daisies that are building up in your stomach, their petals choking you out, downy fluttering things inside you.
(“Hey girl, it’s me. I couldn’t find you anywhere—where you at? I was coming to see if you wanted to grab a bite with me for lunch, maybe at that little Italian place you like to go to around the corner? Or maybe sushi or something? Been a while since I got to go out for lunch, so I thought I’d ask, but I guess you’re busy right now. I’ll catch you later, darlin’. Enjoy your lunch.”)
—NEW BEGINNINGS—
You’ve got to call him. You have to. You have no choice anymore.
Danny is on the other side of the locked door, his fist pounding on the wood and threatening to cave it in from the repeated force. The sound is louder than it should be, really, echoing off the tile of the bathroom you’ve barricaded yourself inside. He’s shouting above the sound.
“You fucking bitch. I’m gonna kill you. I’m gonna fucking kill you. You lied to me? What else are you lying about, huh? You fucking whore. I took you in, I gave you a home, I gave you everything. Fucking fat slut—how many other guys are you sleeping with, huh?”
None, you had answered earlier when he was questioning you in your shared bedroom, his fist tight around your soft arm and squeezing so hard it made you want to scream. None.
But that wasn’t the answer Danny was looking for. And, well, once he threw you onto the ground and stomped to the dresser, clothes strewn around the room as he furiously ripped through it until he found the shiny black firearm you didn’t know he had, you were gone.
But there was only one place to go and that was the bathroom.
Now, trapped inside, you know you have no choice. You have to call him—the man from the coffee shop you’ve been going to regularly for a few months. The man who noticed the bruises Danny always left on you after a rough night. The man who pressed and pried and tried to do anything to get you to open up to him even as you refused over and over again. The man who put his number in your phone because he wanted you to call him if you ever needed him, not because he was a hero, but because he was worried about you.
You press the number two on speed dial. The phone rings.
“Hello? Who is this?”
“Steve?” Your voice is nothing but a sob. “Steve, you were right.”
He doesn’t miss a beat, but you hear the rustle of clothes and a jingle of keys on the other side beyond the static, a sound that makes you almost cry with relief or hope or maybe just stress.
“Hold on,” he tells you. “FRIDAY is pulling up your address. I’ll be there as quick as I can. Are you safe?”
“Bathroom,” you’re able to mumble out from behind the waterfall of tears rushing down your face. “He’s locked out but—but I’m scared.”
“I’m on my way. He’s not going to hurt you. I promise you.”
And then Steve hangs up, and you wish he hadn’t because now you’re left all alone with just a flimsy wooden door, painted fucking white so the blood will show up real pretty when Danny kills you, between you and your boyfriend.
Well, ex-boyfriend if you get out of here alive.
“Four fucking years!” he shouts from outside. “I gave you four fucking years of my life, you stupid bitch. I put up with your dumb fat ass for four years and this is what you do? Is this love? Do you think this is love?”
You figure anything is love as long as it doesn’t look like this. The ring of bruises around your upper arm from Danny’s grasp is already turning black and blue, a sight that makes you flinch.
Honestly, if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours. All the cash you were stashing should’ve been hidden better. You knew better. A shoebox up on the top shelf of the closet? Amateur. You should’ve cut a section out of one of your prized books or something. Danny never fucking reads. He probably doesn’t know how. He would’ve never found all the money if you’d stashed it there.
“Six thousand dollars!” he roars, punching the center of the door. The wood bends slightly. “How long’ve you been fucking stealing from me, huh? Fucking bitch. Stupid fucking bitch.”
And then it happens.
Danny’s fist breaks through the first layer of the door with a curse of pain falling from his lips. Then, a laugh. He’s laughing.
“I’m gonna kill you.”
He punches the door again and then his hand is through, wood splinters shattering and flying toward you, and with a scream you shield your face with your arms and duck down. You’re sitting beside the bathtub, squished against the toilet, and you scoot back as far as you can trying to wedge yourself to safety.
But there is no safety here. Danny’s bloodied fingers find the doorknob and unlock it with a click, and it’s over. It’s over. It’s fucking over.
With a kick, the door comes flying open and you’re screaming again at the top of your lungs, throat tearing itself raw. Danny’s broad frame possesses the entire room as he shoulders his way inside, his lips pulled back to show all of his teeth in a feral grin, the overhead lights catching the shine of the sleek gun he’s carrying.
You can’t even look at him. All you can do is stare at his back in the bathroom mirror hanging over the counter, your mind completely devoid of thought.
“Fuckin’ dead,” Danny says, and you don’t see him aim the gun at you. You stare in the mirror, right in the mirror and memorize the pattern of the plaid jacket he’s wearing, how the colored stripes form new colors, how the fabric all blends. It’s a pretty shirt. You bought it for him two Christmasses ago. He looks good in it.
You are going to die.
Then, suddenly, you can’t see the plaid anymore. Instead it’s a gray shirt on a much bigger body blocking out the mirror, and when you turn your head to look, Steve’s there.
Steve’s here.
He’s got Danny in a chokehold, grappling for the pistol in your boyfriend’s hand. Ex-boyfriend. Despite Steve being completely unarmed—he’s Captain America for christ’s sake, a goddamn super soldier, he doesn’t need a fucking weapon—he easily brings Danny down to his knees and onto the floor, kicking the gun away from their bodies and out of the bathroom completely.
“Fucking whore,” Danny manages to spit out, the sound strangled as Steve’s arm buckles over his neck. “You’re fucking him too, huh? I’m gonna kill you.”
“Shut up,” Steve grits through his clenched teeth, pulling Danny toward the destroyed door. “You’re done.”
They disappear from the bathroom in a tangle and thrashing of limbs. Danny curses the whole way down the stairs, struggling to break out of Steve’s grasp you presume. He’s a fighter—that’s what he always said. Dog meets dog eats dog world, he would tell you. You can’t ever trust anyone.
And, well, he certainly proved his beliefs. You had the bruises to show for it. The scars as evidence.
Sitting alone in your wrecked bathroom, still sprawled out on the tile, you stare down at your hands. The lines run deep in your palms, fingers stubby and chubby and not at all feminine. Too small to grab Danny the way he always grabbed you. Too soft with fat to deliver a good punch.
You don’t know how much time passes before a much larger hand enters your vision, slowly, like approaching a kicked mutt on the street, and when you don’t flinch, Steve lays his fingers across your palms. Apprehensively, you grab onto his hand, and he squeezes back.
Looking up, he’s crouched in front of you, the beginnings of a bruise forming on his left temple. With your free hand, you reach out and let your fingers brush over it, but Steve just smiles at you.
“Let’s go,” he murmurs.
“Where?”
“Anywhere but here,” he says, gently tugging on your hand. You hold onto him a little tighter and let him help you up off the ground, his arm immediately sliding around your waist to steady your shaky legs.
“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” you say. “The money I saved…”
You don’t even know what happened to it. For all you know, Danny burned the cash. Or stashed it somewhere else.
“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Steve says in a soft voice. “I’m taking you back to the Tower. The police are dealing with Danny right now. Can you help me pack some clothes for you?”
And so you sat on the bed among your wrecked bedroom as Steve picked through the messy drawers that had been pulled from their dresser, some articles of clothing crumpled on the floor where Danny flung them in his mad search for your secret money stash. And the gun. You almost forgot about the gun.
Steve helps you pack, his face only a little pinker than normal when you’re shoving your intimates into the black duffle bag he fished out of his car, and then he’s helping you slip on your sneakers and guiding you out of your house.
You don’t say goodbye to it, though. That house. Even after four years, you don’t call it home. In a lot of ways, you’re happy to watch it disappear from Steve’s rearview mirror, hoping you’ll never be back.
“They’re going to love you there,” he says quietly in the silence of the car, both hands tight around the steering wheel. He glances over at you, then back at the road. “You’ll fit right in. You’ll be safe. Right at home.”
But you think Steve is a bit of an optimist. Homes, you think, are for people who are loved.
(“Hey honey, just me here. Look, I remembered you saying something about how you wanted those, what were they called, the fairy lights for your room? The ones that look like Christmas lights? I thought we could go pick some up and I’ll hang ‘em up. You’re too short to do it yourself, girl, you know that. Anyway, give me a call if you want to, or just come down to my room and get me, anytime. I’ll be waiting. Talk soon, honey.”)
—KEEPING SECRETS—
Wanda hums a tune under her breath. “I just can’t wait to get out of this place! It’s been too long. Mission after mission after bloody mission.” She sighs and starts to apply a thick coat of mascara, eyes wide as she stares in the mirror.
“Agreed,” Natasha says from somewhere behind you. The sound of her bare feet on the bathroom tile is the only warning you have before she sidles up beside you, gracefully lifting herself up onto the counter and sweeping various cosmetics aside to make room.
You’re still undressed, standing in your panties and an old t-shirt with a stretched out neck, just finishing up your eyeshadow when Nat taps a black bottle on the marble top near your fingers.
“Want me to do your eyeliner?” she asks.
A few months ago, you would have seen it as an insult—a beautiful, dangerous woman telling you in less words that your makeup looked like shit. Now you know it’s an expression of Natasha’s unending love for you. A willing act of service. A small thing she can do for you.
“Yes please.”
Natasha motions you forward, between her legs, and when she takes your face in her hand you close your eyes.
“Pretty colors,” she says, probably about your eyeshadow.
“Thanks,” you reply, and then you feel the cool wetness of liquid liner right on your lash line as she begins to paint a wing on your lid. “You always look pretty.”
“So do you.” She blows softly on your left eye. “It’s like you never need makeup, I swear. Are you even wearing foundation?”
A smile works its way onto your face. “Nope.”
From beside you, Wanda giggles.
“Slut. You’re so perfect it makes me want to scream sometimes,” Natasha says, tongue clicking her teeth as she finishes off your right eye.
All the breath seems to leave you in that moment. Like someone punched you straight in your gut, your bones like the gel shock-absorbing layer protecting your organs. Your eyes want nothing more than to shoot open, but Nat is blowing cool air over the newly formed wing and you force yourself to relax so you don’t mess everything up.
“I’m not perfect,” you tell her. “Have you looked in a mirror lately?”
“Don’t deflect.” You hear her cap the eye liner and set it down on the counter, then her palms engulf your cheeks. Slowly, you let your eyes open, blinking gently.
She’s staring at you, eyes narrowed.
“Just because I’m beautiful doesn’t mean you’re not beautiful,” she says, simply, as if it’s just easy for her to not compare herself to anyone else. “If you’re perfect, you’re perfect. Doesn’t matter if I’m perfect, too. And that Wanda is perfect. Or that anyone is perfect.”
Natasha takes your chin in her fingers and grabs a tube of lipstick—the one she and Wanda always tell you to wear because it looks so damn good on you.
“Your beauty and your worth doesn’t come from other people.” She runs the silken rouge over your lips. “It comes from who you are, not comparisons to other people.”
And, god, you want to scream at her. You want to shout and tell her that she isn’t allowed to say that to you when she looks the way she does—slim and picturesque and every human being’s wet dream. She doesn’t get to say that you shouldn’t compare yourself, with your heavy chest and your wide hips and all your soft pockets of skin, to someone like her. To someone like Wanda. To anyone else that doesn’t need liposuction with a side of diet pills, please.
You can’t be perfect, because if you were perfect, if you were enough, you wouldn’t be dying in agony every night over someone that doesn’t look twice at your too-large stomach and your too-large thighs.
They’re just trying to make you feel better, but all it does is make you feel worse.
“Look,” you say when she’s done with your lipstick, “I get what—”
In a split second, your chest is wracked with hard coughs, lungs struggling for air. It’s choking you, your own insides, and you’re hacking and wheezing and grasping at the bathroom counter and Natasha’s hands are on your shoulders and Wanda is slapping your back in hope that it will help and someone, somewhere, is saying the word heimlich and you can taste it on your tongue like old wallpaper from the 70s, floral and disgusting and toxic and ugly.
You throw your arm over your mouth, smearing your lipstick. It doesn’t help. Natasha is looking at you, eyes wild. You’re coughing and coughing and you think you taste blood underneath the overwhelming velvet on your tongue.
They’re saying your name. Shredded petals are between your teeth.
And then you break, pushing past them to the toilet, skidding on your knees until you’re doubled over and retching. It’s all burning acid and fresh flowers. Rot and fester and earth and greenery. A pair of cool hands—Wanda’s, you think—rest upon your forehead and move your hair away from your face.
Vomit and daisies leak from your mouth until your stomach is done contracting and your insides are empty. All that’s left is your sputtering coughs that taste caustic and beautiful.
It’s getting bad.
When you finally pull away from the toilet, slumped back and wiping your mouth, the toilet is full of an explosion of crisp white and bright yellow, tinged with the faint pink of blood. Wanda is glancing back and forth between you and the unflushed toilet, horror stitched on her face.
Before Natasha approaches, a glass of tap water in hand, you lean over and flush the petals down the drain. The look you shoot Wanda is pleading, but you don’t even know what you’re asking for.
Everything on the inside hurts, burning like a pit of snakes in your belly, hissing and spitting venom and biting into you like they mean to kill you. Perhaps the daisies have grown fangs. Your lungs feel chewed.
Nat places the glass in your shaking hands, her fingers holding your own as if she knows you can’t do it yourself. She helps raise the glass to your soiled lips and you gulp the water down like it’ll flood the valley unfolding in you.
“Who is it?” she asks, her voice calm but her eyes uneasy. You nearly choke, a hand pressing against the middle of your chest as if you need to feel your lungs as they work to assure yourself of your own survival.
“What?” you barely eke out, throat thick and scratchy. One of Wanda’s hands strokes down your back and she doesn’t speak, only shakes her head.
“Who is it?” Natasha repeats.
You look away.
“God.” Wanda sniffles behind you. “How could we not have realized?”
“Because it doesn’t happen,” Nat says, shifting from crouching in front of you to sitting on her knees on the floor, a hand resting on your thigh. “I’ve never known a single person—until now, I guess—who had it. I thought it wasn’t real.”
“They tell it like a fairytale in Sokovia,” Wanda says, her words just as watery as her eyes. “A story you lull children to sleep with! But I should have seen it. We should have seen it.”
A new abundance of petals tickle the back of your throat.
“All that art,” Natasha hisses, but she isn’t looking at you. She’s glaring down at her lap.
“All the daisies,” Wanda cries. Her head drops against your shoulder. You feel the wetness of her tears.
“It’s okay,” you tell them, but your voice is too small. “It’s okay,” you say, louder this time, tasting the flowers like they are the blood of your bitten tongue.
“Who is it?” Natasha asks again, a begging in her voice you don’t think you’ve ever heard before.
“It’s okay,” you say again.
And with this, Nat’s face changes from one of concern to something of realization—like she’s been struck with a thought she never considered, like she’s seen the future.
“It’s him.” Her jaw is slack, staring at you even as Wanda looks at her with confusion etched on her visage. “You have to tell him.”
“No,” you say simply.
“This is bad,” Nat snaps, as if you don’t know it already. “This is getting bad. You need to tell him or you’re—you’re going to die.”
A laugh breaks through the bathroom, echoing. “How can I tell him? How could I ever tell him that I love him when the simple fucking fact that these flowers are growing—rooting—in my goddamn lungs is proof that he doesn’t love me the way that I love him?”
You lean back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling.
“Sam Wilson doesn’t love me the way I love him,” you whisper.
The tips of Natasha’s fingers catch the tears you don’t feel streaking down your cheeks like the screaming of shooting stars, hot and bright and dying.
“It’s sort of beautiful, don’t you think?” Your nails dig into the fat flesh of your thighs, trying to puncture skin. “To make art of your own death. To make something lovely out of something so tragic.”
You can’t swallow it back this time. A cough wracks through you, jostling your bones, and you fold yourself in half as soft white petals emerge from your esophagus and choke you. You grind them against the backs of your teeth with your tongue, trying to mash them into nonexistence, but it’s not enough. You retch another wave of daisies into your awaiting hands.
Wanda calls your name and it sounds broken.
“Death like this,” you rasp, catching your breath, “is the most beautiful way to go.”
Your finger drags over one of the downy petals, a bead of blood catching on your skin and smearing across it like a brushstroke of paint, ruining it.
“Death like this is the only way I want to go.”
(“Hey beautiful, it’s me again. I heard you were going out with the girls tonight—I hope you have fun. I just wanted you to know that if you need a ride back home, or you get into trouble and need a hero, or anything, really, I’m just a phone call away. You need me and I’ll be there, ‘kay honey? I’ll be up if you need anything, at least ‘till you get home. Have fun, girl.”)
—INNOCENCE—
You’re beginning to ask yourself if the mirror lies.
It doesn’t. You know that. You’ve been trying to find the lies in it for years at this point, pinching and pulling at all the places you find are thicker than the women you see on TV, the women you see floating around the Tower, the women you’ve seen on the arms of Sam Wilson. Chubby hands caress down your soft belly, poking and prodding the skin you wish you could make disappear. The mirror never lies.
But you wish it did when you stare at yourself and all you see are the bruises beneath your eyes, the hollows in your cheeks, the drained look in your gaze. The longer you stand there, the less you recognize yourself.
You aren’t hungry anymore. You never get hungry—the flowers filling up all the space in your stomach, coughed up from your lungs and swallowed back in pieces. Perfume is what your mouth tastes like now. Perfume and iron. The vomiting hasn’t stopped since the night your secret was revealed to Natasha and Wanda.
And you’ve never looked better.
That’s the part you hate. The part where when you look in the mirror and you can see the places where those daisies have shaved you thinner. It almost makes you laugh. People say you pack on the pounds when you find love. Maybe they should try having toxic flowers take root inside of them and slowly steal their lifeforce while they watch the person they love never love them back.
It’s a slow process, this death. You wonder which will kill you first—the starvation or the suffocation.
The walk down to the gala is as equally exciting as it is dreadful. You’ve never been to a Tony Stark gala before and you’re eager to dance the night away with your friends. But you’re also exhausted.
Oh well. The makeup helps you look less like a corpse and more like a dancing queen. The dress, which you’re sure someone paid far too much money for, is part of the solution. It’s all flowy and gorgeous as if you are a Greek goddess meant to be worshipped and highlights your figure while hiding all the imperfections the mirror seemed to find.
And when you finally enter the room, classical music playing from the live band and people laughing loudly and champagne twirling about the floor for people to take, the first thing you see is him.
Grin taking up his entire face, lighting up the entire ballroom, dressed beautifully in a navy suit that makes him look utterly dashing, is Sam Wilson.
He’s surrounded by people—women who are better dressed than you are—so with a shaky breath and a pain in your lungs, you quickly turn on your heel and head toward the next familiar face.
“Woah there, doll, where you hurryin’ off to?” Bucky, hair neatly pulled back and wearing a black suit, grabs you by your waist.
“Nowhere,” you blurt. “The bar. I just got here.”
He raises a thick brow at you, a silent question, but when you choose not to answer he shrugs.
“Well I can’t refuse to escort a pretty lady, can I?” With a charming smile, he holds his elbow out to you and gestures for you to grab on. You slip your hand around his arm and grasp him tightly, shooting him a grateful smile.
“Thanks, Bucky.”
But as the two of you start dodging through the crowd of excited party-goers, on your way to the bar in the back, Bucky stops short and gets a look on his face that you’re not quite sure you can describe as mischievous, but it’s close enough to make you frown.
“Y’know what,” he says, glancing over at you with that boyish grin, “I think we should take a spin on the dance floor instead.”
“Oh no,” you tell him, eyes wide. “I can’t dance—”
He snorts. “I’ve seen you dance around the kitchen, doll.”
“I can’t dance in front of all these people.”
“Can’t is a word for losers.” Bucky closes his hand over yours, locking you to his elbow. “Don’t wanna be a loser like Stevie, do ya? Oh Buck, I can’t stop fighting, gotta teach ‘em a lesson. Oh Buck, I can’t rinse out my cereal bowl, I gotta go for a run.”
It makes you laugh, maybe a little too loud, but it eases you just enough for Bucky to pull you into the menagerie of dancing couples, and then he’s moving your hand from his arm and onto his shoulder and clasping your other in his fingers.
“There we go.” His eyes shine like the ocean sparkles under the Tower lights.
Bucky has something magic in him, you decide, after two songs of him swinging you along the floor. He has something magic that makes everything so easy, which is something so admirable after all he’s been through. He has you laughing and smiling and spinning across the room with so little effort you forget all your worries in an instant.
“See?” Bucky dips you in his arms, making you squeal with glee, collecting the stares of the people peppered around the room. “Knew you could dance, doll.”
Panting, you rest a hand on his chest, still giggling. “Only ‘cause you’re so good.”
“Song’s over, Buck,” a new, familiar voice cuts in. When you look up, Steve is standing there, eyes crinkling with his own smile. “I can’t wait for another.”
At that, Bucky rolls his eyes with such drama it has you laughing yet again.
“See? I told you. It’s all can’t this, can’t thatwith Stevie. But fine.” Bucky guides you by the waist over to Steve, passing your hand over, and then gives you one last grin with all his teeth. “I had fun, doll. Thanks for dancin’ with me.”
“Anytime,” you tell him, and then Steve’s adjusting your grip on him. The song changes from the upbeat tune Bucky was twirling you to down to a slower classical piece.
“You doing okay, sweetheart?” Steve asks, his eyes roaming over your face.
“Yeah,” you hum. “Bucky and I had a lot of fun.”
Steve’s grip at your waist tightens a little. “No, I mean in general. Are you doing alright?”
There’s worry there—in the wrinkles on his brow, the blue skies of his eyes, the curve of his lips. You know he’s staring at you and seeing everything the mirror told you. All the gaunt places. The hollow, haunted look you’re parading around. The weight you’ve been steadily losing. You know he sees it.
“I’m okay,” you tell him, and you wonder yet again if the mirror ever lies. You know you do.
Steve sways you gently, more carefully than Bucky had. Steve dances with you like you’re made of something fragile. You still don’t understand why. You don’t know why he ever looked at you and saw something important, someone to protect. Maybe it’s just how he was born to be.
“You can tell me anything,” he says, so seriously that your heart breaks a little.
You move your hand from his shoulder and up to cradle his cheek, smiling.
“I know, Steve. I know.”
And if he pulls you into him, crushes you against his chest, and holds you like that for the rest of the song, no one mentions it. Steve lets you rest your head on his shoulder and, not for the first time, you think this must be how it feels to have a family.
But then the lights in the ballroom brighten a little and a spark finds its way into the music, changing into something jazzy and fun, and someone slaps Steve on the shoulder.
“Alright Rogers, she’s ours now.”
There, dressed like she could kill a man with her heels alone, Natasha has her arms crossed over her black satin gown. Beside her, in a red, flowy dress, Wanda has her hands on Nat’s shoulders, giggling from all the bubbly you’re sure she’s consumed.
Steve pulls away from you with a chuckle, holding his hands up in surrender.
“Alright, alright—she’s all yours, ladies.”
With that, Natasha pounces on you, and the three of you start to shimmy the night away together.
You lose count of the songs you spend dancing with them, sweaty and out of breath and having the time of your life, before you wave them off and step out onto the outside patio where hardly anyone is loitering. You pass up a couple sitting on a bench, cuddled up in the cool air of New York, and leave a man smoking a cigarette to himself.
Instead, you find a lonely bench far away enough from the gala that you can hardly hear anything but the bass strings resounding through the building. There, you sit, and turn your head up to the stars you can’t really see anymore.
“You okay, girl?”
Startled, you whirl around to face the object of your affections, standing behind you with his hands shoved casually in his pockets. He isn’t wearing his usual smile. Just staring.
And then you taste dirt. Freshly upturned soil coated in congealing blood. You cough into your hands and hear him approach, laying a warm palm on your back as you choke the daisies down and down and down, swallowing as many as you can, the pungent taste still ripe in your mouth.
“Honey,” he calls out all smooth and sharp like whiskey. “Honey, are you okay?”
You lick the blood from your lips. Sam crouches before you, gathering your cold hands in his, looking up at you with such a fucking expression that you want to kiss him so solidly he can taste the vines growing up your throat. You want his tongue to taste the soil of your suffering—the flowers of your own doom.
“I’m worried about you,” Sam says, his dark eyes searching your face for something.
“I’m okay,” you tell him, just as you’ve been telling everyone.
“You’re not looking so good these days,” he murmurs, and you recoil.
“Wow.” The hurt in your voice is so palpable it makes you cringe. “Thanks, Samuel.”
You move to get up from the bench, heart twisting, but Sam grabs your arms and cages you there.
“I didn’t mean it like that, darlin’, you know better than that.” He gives your arms—too soft too wide too fleshy too—a squeeze of reassurance. “You’re not painting much anymore either. You think I wouldn’t notice?”
Sam holds your gaze until it’s too much and you have to break away.
“C’mon, girl. Are you even sleeping?” Sam shakes you a little. “Eating?”
The flowers of evil root in your chest. See, you know how this book ends. You don’t need to read the last page to find out. It’s just as Baudelaire wrote, you know: “My heart is lost; the beasts have eaten it.”
Your organs have been replaced by daisies. Sam Wilson won’t love you—not tonight, not tomorrow, and not in time.
So you shrug, forcing your lips to curl into what you think might be a smile.
“I can’t paint. I’ve got too many flowers to press,” you tell him. Sam’s visage morphs into confusion, and he shakes his head slightly. He doesn’t understand. He won’t understand.
You take his arms from your body, holding his hands for a split second, long enough to steal their warmth and imagine what it would be like to hold them every single day, and then you pick yourself up off the bench and give him a wave.
“See you inside, Sam.”
And you leave him there, confusion still frozen on his face, the gritty blood ripping shreds in your damaged throat as you swallow it again and again and again in an attempt not to taste it anymore.
(“Hey, uh, it’s Sam. I was just calling to, uh, y’know, remind you about the gala. You have a date yet? I didn't ask anyone. I, uh, I wanted to ask this girl, but uh, I ended up waiting too long and I’m a little late so… I’ll see you there, honey. Try not to kill me with your good looks tonight, you hear? Save a dance for me, baby.”)
—THE SUN AND ALL ITS STARS—
Dishware rattles into your room, signaling Nat’s arrival. By the time you gather the energy to sit up in bed, she’s already entering, a tray of food in her hands and an icy look on her face.
“Breakfast in bed,” she says monotonously.
You shift and pull your duvet up as she fits the tray over your lap. There’s not much—a sweating glass of cold water beside an amber glass of apple juice, two slices of buttered toast, and some melon she cut up.
“Thanks,” you say, voice strained and weak.
Natasha doesn’t leave, but you wish she would. She seats herself on the edge of your bed, staring you down as you sip on your water. You purse your lips in frustration, but pick up the fork and begin to poke at the fruit.
“Eat,” she says.
“I’m trying,” you grumble back. “Stop staring at me.”
Natasha throws her hands up on the air. “Well if I don’t watch you, you’ll just sit here and waste away,” she snaps. “You’re not eating, you’re not sleeping, hell, you aren’t even coming out of your room anymore. You go to work, you come home, you don’t talk to any of us. Steve says—”
“Steve doesn’t know anything!” you shout, interrupting her. As soon as you do, her eyes narrow into slits and you shut your mouth, gulping. That wasn’t what you wanted to do.
Natasha takes a deep breath. “Steve says you’re still looking for a place.” It’s eerie how calm she keeps her tone. “Leaving isn’t going to stop them, you know.”
Even now, not doing anything but staring at the food in your lap, you can taste them like a funeral home, saccharinely floral, covering the smell of death.
“I can’t stay here,” you say.
“You’re dying,” Natasha stresses. “Please. Please, I am begging, krasavitsa. I’ve not begged for much in this life. But I am begging you to please, please tell him. Tell him or consider the other option.”
Two options in the scale, tipping weights. To die or to have the roots of true love carved out of your lungs, peeled away from where they wrap around your heart.
You stab your fork into the tender flesh of the melon. It gives way so easily, letting the tines puncture it. Natasha stares at you, her gaze heavy. Your fingers fumble with the fork and it falls, clattering, to the tray of dishes.
The blood is too hard to swallow anymore—it builds up in your mouth and stains your teeth red, the petals colored pink when they fall from your lips.
“Okay,” you whisper. Maybe you don’t even say it aloud.
“Okay?” Natasha asks. You nod your head, not looking at her.
“I’ll tell him.”
It takes you hours, it feels like, to gather the courage. With all the energy you have left in your bones, muscles only satiated a little by Natasha’s breakfast, you drag yourself out of bed and to your bookshelf. It’s memorized, the place where your book sits, and you pull it out with a gentle tug of your finger.
The Flowers of Evil, its pages nearly chock-full of pressed daisies that have ejected themselves from your body, eager to find the man you love and spill all your desires to him. You thumb through it, gaze flitting over all the damn flowers that have dried in this damn book, and you close your eyes in order not to cry this time.
You press the book tight to your chest, feeling the desperate beating of your heart echo through it, and you head to Sam’s room.
The walk is long and lonely—the Tower feels empty. Devoid of people. You’re a little glad because you’re sure that anyone could see the sickness painted on your body, the illness from inside you that’s staining your outsides. It’s not anyone’s fault but your own, really. The flowers are too beautiful to supplant.
And now, you’re in front of his door, a fist raised to knock, a loud buzzing in your head that keeps saying no, no, no. But your heart, traitorous thing still hammering away in your chest, it just keeps saying yes, yes, yes, finally.
Sam Wilson doesn’t love you.
But do you have any other choice except to take a garden spade to your lungs and dig them out of your chest cavity, to destroy your ribcage and break through the mulch that makes up your nervous system? Is the only option left to die at the hands of Sam or to wither away until your decomposition will feed the very things that killed you off?
You shudder a breath and knock on the door. And you wait. And wait. And wait.
He doesn’t come. He isn’t there. He doesn’t love you.
The tears come suddenly—unexpectedly. They are hot and stricken and fast. They drip off your chin and careen down your neck and dampen the collar of your shirt and your hands are trembling, grasping your book too tightly, to even begin to wipe them away.
You don’t know why you’re crying. You already know this. Sam Wilson could never love you the way that you love him. Sam Wilson is perfection, you know. He possesses the strength of gods, he radiates love, he’s passionate about every fucking thing he does. He’s beautiful. He’s everything and you are nothing when standing next to him, but you love him. You love him.
Sam Wilson doesn’t fucking love you.
“Well,” you laugh to yourself, “I can either die a fool or live a life without you.”
I can either die in love or live my life not knowing what it feels like to be in love with you.
Something tickles your tongue. You reach between your lips and pluck it from your mouth, letting it sit upon the center of your palm. Blood drips down your arm like a river, violent and sooth.
The daisy covers your entire hand, white petals tinged with pink reaching toward your fingers. The center, all yellow florets seeming to seek out warmth, are so bright and full and so big—these are too big, they could choke anyone, anyone, they are choking you.
And like them—god, just like them, just like these daisies that grow from your lungs and destroy you from inside out—you are heliotropic. Everywhere you go, you’re focused on the sun, looking for the sun, stretching toward the sun.
You need the sun.
So you crumble the daisy in your hand, fist tight, blood still easing from between your fingers. You back away from his door, then turn and break away to head back to your room in silence.
You’d rather die loving him than never getting to see the sun ever again.
(“Hey girl, it’s me. Just calling to let you know that Steve and I got called for a mission. It looks like an emergency, wheels up in ten and all that. I wanted to catch you before we gotta go, in case you wanted to say goodbye. To Steve, I mean. Just in case. Take care of yourself while I’m gone, sweetness.”)
—FAREWELLS—
It happens faster than you think it will. You swear you have weeks, or a month at least. You swear you have time.
Four days later, your knees buckle and slam into the wooden floor beneath you, stomach contorting and contracting, balloon finally bursting. Someone is shouting your name from the common room, something is knocked over, scrambling. You barely hear it over the sound of your own vomiting.
On your hands and knees, you stare down at the lump of flowers you couldn’t swallow back. They’re coated in a mixture of soil and blood and stomach acid, but the sweet perfume scent breaks through the rest and makes you retch again. It smells so sweet. So sickly sweet. Dead people and churches.
Did churches always smell so much like blood?
There’s a hand on your shoulder. It’s pulling your hair from your face. Someone is saying something—something—something you can’t make out over the blood rushing between your ears.
You’re dying. This is it.
You collapse upon the ground, rolling onto your side, arm thrown over your mouth as if that will stop the flowers from pouring out of your body. And when you blink, trying to see through the dizziness, it’s him again.
The god of the fucking sun, your sun, mouth moving frantically as he says things you can’t hear and the little gap in his teeth that makes you feel at home when he smiles at you and his eyes, oh, Sam Wilson has eyes that set you on fire and burn you alive and you’d be happy to die like this, you’re so happy you get to die like this, so thankful that the daisies chose you, so thankful you chose him.
You were right. Death is so beautiful like this.
“It might be too late.”
Helen Cho’s heels clack on the tile of the medbay’s room as she shoos the nurse out with a wave of her hands, shaking her head. He shoots to his feet, fingers already curled into fists, and he shoves them in the pockets of his jacket to hide them.
“Too late?” It’s impossible for him to keep his voice low. “How can it be too late? What even—What’s wrong with her?”
She frowns at Sam, folding her hands together in front of her.
“It’s… rare,” she says. “Some of us didn’t think it was real, to be frank with you.”
His brow furrows. “What is it?”
“A disease caused by unrequited love,” Helen says plainly, staring straight at him. “Typically, the patient finds themselves in what is regarded to be true love, but the feelings are not returned, so they build up. It’s theorized that the stress of that creates the problem.”
Sam swallows and it tastes like vomit. “Unrequited love?”
She ignores him, continuing, “The part that is normally so hard to believe is that flowers begin to grow inside the patient, the roots puncturing their lungs and creating masses that eventually will suffocate their host.”
It’s a bag of bricks to his stomach. A super soldier punch to the gut. A bomb blown up in his face. Sam doubles over, clutching his middle, trying to breathe again. He can’t breathe at all. The flowers. The flowers.
“It seems she was swallowing them in an attempt to save herself,” Helen explains. “It’s what kept her alive much longer than she should have been. But now, I don’t know. It may be too late to save her. If she’d just said something earlier, than the surgery might have been able to stop it, but—”
“Surgery?” Sam asks, still gasping for breath. “What surgery?”
“You can extract the roots,” she tells him, glancing at the sleeping woman in the sickbed. “It’s a difficult procedure but it would have saved her. But, from the very little research we have on it, removing the roots also removes the feelings entirely. The love that the patient has disappears. They aren’t able to ever feel anything for that person ever again.”
He falls back into the plastic chair, his limbs numb. Or, at least that’s what he wants to do. But Sam doesn’t. He steadies himself, crosses his arms over his chest, plants himself so firmly there in the hospital room that he doesn’t think an earthquake can move him, and looks at her.
She’s sleeping, but she doesn’t look at peace. Her eyes, lovely things, are sunken in and it makes him so mad. Her collarbones have shadows beneath them and he feels fury wracking his own bones. And how long has it been since he’s seen her smile?
“Do the surgery,” he demands.
“You know I can’t do that without her consent,” Helen says, sighing.
“Then I’ll wait until she wakes up and get her consent,” he seethes through a locked jaw.
Helen’s face doesn’t change. “She might not wake up.”
“She will.”
Sam doesn’t get it. He understands—in a way—but he doesn’t really get it. He knows why she wouldn’t want to get a surgery like that. But he loves—he loves just as fiercely as she does, and that’s why he understands. Why he knows.
So why did the flowers pick her? Why would they pick her and not him?
Helen glances down at her feet, says nothing, and turns to exit the room. He’s left there in the silence, with the crowing of the machine keeping her alive to punctuate all his thoughts. If there is one thing he hates in the world, it’s feeling helpless.
He lowers himself in the plastic seat, leans his head back against the wall, and closes his eyes.
“You’ll wake up,” he says to her, but he can’t look at her.
Or maybe he’ll wake up and it’ll all be a dream.
There’s a soft rapping of knuckles on the door, and it opens slowly and quietly, and Sam has to lock his fingers around the arms of his chair to keep from jumping up and sending a right hook right at Steve’s face.
“How’s she doing?” Steve has the audacity to ask, has the audacity to look worried, has the audacity to pull up another plastic seat next to Sam.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he mutters under his breath, spite burning his tongue.
Steve glares at him. “Yeah, that’s why I asked. What’s your problem?”
“My problem is you, Rogers.” Now, Sam can’t help but stand, towering over the super soldier. He immediately grabs Steve’s arm and hauls him out of his chair, through the door, and out into the hallway. Steve stumbles, a hand on the wall, and Sam’s nostrils flare.
“How could you do this to her?”
“Me?” Steve sounds genuinely taken aback, but Sam doesn’t buy it. “What are you talking about? Helen told me—”
“I thought you loved her, too!”
He really did. That’s why Steve brought her to the Tower, didn’t he? That’s why they go out for lunch every other week and why Sam never gets a chance to take her out himself. Why he always makes sure to say goodbye to her before a mission, like he doesn’t want to leave her behind. He really thought Steve loved her too. If he had thought for one second that Steve didn’t love her...
“What?” Steve’s jaw slackens. “Not like that! She doesn’t—She’s not in love with me, Sam!”
He pants, unable to catch the breath that’s leaving him like a slow leak.
“Then who the hell is she in love with?”
Steve stares at him, a look that Sam can’t recognize, can’t name, in his eyes. Steve stares at him and smooths his hand down his beard, shaking his head.
“She’s in love with you,” he says, and Sam chokes.
Because all the pretty things in his world lead back to her and man, if she loved him, it would all be so perfect that he would never want to leave it. He would never want to say goodbye. He’d ask god and anyone else who would listen to grant him a deathless life so he could look at her forever, with no end in sight, because he would. He would. Sam would love her forever.
“No,” he says, a dry chuckle escaping his lips. “That can’t be true.”
“It’s true,” Steve says.
“That’s impossible.” He backs up, against the wall, holding his head in his hands and staring at the floor. “It’s impossible.”
“It’s true,” Steve repeats, staring past Sam and through the window of the medbay’s room to look at her, lying so still in her bed. “I know it is.”
“Steve, I’m in love with her,” Sam confesses, an ache in his chest. “It can’t be me. I’m in love with her. I’m so fucking in love with her.”
A heavy hand clasps his shoulder, and when Sam looks up, his breathing unsteady, Steve has a look of regret smeared all over his face.
“But does she know that?”
And, for the first time in years, Sam cries.
(“It’s me. I need to tell you something. Even if it will hurt, even if it will destroy—destroy what we have, I don’t know. But I need to tell you, baby. I need to.”)
—SINCERITY—
Sam Wilson thinks she’s starlight.
When she first arrives she’s a collection of stars and their ashes, explosions and deaths, supernovas and black holes and earthbound meteorites.
What he means by that is she’s covered in bruises but she’s so beautiful, and he wants to gather her in his arms and tell her it’s going to be okay.
Steve introduces her, and Sam tries to bite his tongue, but all his words pour out of him anyway as she holds out a hand to him and he takes it, soft and trembling, and he knows she’s special somehow. She’s special.
“You’re the prettiest thing I think I’ve ever seen,” he says, and he means it, but she ducks her head and tries to hide the little smile on her face.
Sam Wilson thinks the world of you. But even when the bruises fade, you’re still left with all the land and the water and the galaxies hidden in your eyes when he catches your gaze, and he looks at you and he swears that you’re reaching into his chest and taking his heart in your small hands and squeezing him dry. You have realms inside of you, he’s sure, all the worlds and all their wonders. But you—you look at Steve like that sometimes, and then Sam is just grateful that you even let him breathe in your general atmosphere.
He can fly, sure, but he certainly isn’t an astronaut, so this is about the closest he can get to you.
(“Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system. This number is not available. At the tone, please record your message.”)
—TRUE LOVE—
The first thing you see is the ceiling, hazy and sleep-filtered, but it looks just like the ceiling in that bathroom, back in Danny’s apartment, back when you thought the pain of love was bone crushing, before you knew the pain of love was slow suffocation.
It makes you stutter back to life and that sends you into a coughing fit. You can still taste them—the daisies. They taste like the rawness of sunlight.
Hand pressed against your chest, your eyes dart around the room, trying to catch your bearings. There’s an IV in your arm, the bed railings are plastic, Sam is sitting in the corner, the lights are dimmed.
Sam Wilson is sitting in the corner.
You gasp, looking at him, and he’s staring right back at you, a familiar book in his hands.
Sam Wilson is sitting beside your bed, holding The Flowers of Evil, and the look on his face is far from happy to see you. It’s not anger. And it’s not sadness. It just… is. And Sam is never “just” anything.
Even if he thinks that sometimes, like the times when he calls you and says, “It’s just me,” as if he isn’t something special, so important you can’t live without him in your life.
Well, you can’t live with him, either.
After a solid minute, Sam looks down at the book between his dark hands, and he begins to sift through the pages. He stops sometimes, lingers on the sheets of dried daisies that have been pressed, their color leaking onto the text only slightly. But then he moves forward, searching for something. You don’t know what.
“How long have you been here?” you ask, throat sore when you speak.
“How long have you been in love with me?”
Your teeth gnash together, bite into your bottom lip, worry a sore there as he doesn’t look at you. He just keeps flipping through the book as if he didn’t just thrust a dagger straight through your heart, as if it isn’t beating so fast and hard like it’s trying to stay alive. You feel like you can’t breathe and you don’t know if it’s the flowers crawling out of your lungs and trying to get to him or if it’s the fact that he knows.
You can’t answer him.
Sam stops on a page, his finger trailing over the script, and then he begins to read.
“And yet
to wine, to opium even, I prefer
the elixir of your lips on which love flaunts itself;
and in the wasteland of desire
your eyes afford the wells to slake my thirst.”
“Les Fleurs du Mal,” he says, shutting the book with a thump and striking his palm with it. “Baudelaire sure had a lot to say, didn’t he?”
Your mouth is suddenly so dry. There’s a pink pitcher of water next to the bed, just like a hospital would have, and you reach weakly for it. Sam grabs it immediately, pouring you a cup, and passing it gently to you. You gulp what you can down through the straw, hardly breathing.
When you finally feel like you aren’t going to cough your lungs up into your hands again, Sam takes the cup back from you, and embarrassment is a cold shiver down your spine.
He sits back down beside you, looking straight at you. “Do you want to get the surgery?”
Your lips part to speak, but he interrupts.
“Be honest.”
Chewing your lip, you take a deep breath. “No. And I never planned on it, either.” From the corner of your eye, you see his jaw tighten.
“Why not?”
“Because what is a life without the fucking sun, Sam?” The words are spat from your mouth. “A life spent not loving you—not knowing you, not feeling you anymore—it wasn’t worth it. Because I love you, Samuel Wilson. I have loved you since the day I met you and you told me—told me I was pretty for some goddamn reason. And I’ve loved you every day since. I love everything about you and there is not a single iteration of life that I would want to live if it meant not loving you.”
This time, nothing tastes like blood. It’s all just daisies, like they’re populating your mouth, changing the way your tongue works, turning to paste in your teeth. It’s so strong that it hurts. Like you’re eating paper valentines and crying too many tears as you say goodbye to a body in a casket.
But it’s beautiful and lovely and gorgeous because you swear that, somewhere beneath it, you can taste what you think love might taste like.
Sam doesn’t speak and it hurts, but it tosses your book down on the side table and reaches into his pocket and it still hurts. He pulls out his phone. You swallow down the rising earth in your chest.
He pulls out his phone—no, it’s your phone. He turns the screen toward you and punches in your password. You furrow your brows. When did he learn your password? But it doesn’t matter, really, because he just swipes to your call log and pulls up your voicemails. And then he begins to play them.
“Hey there darlin’, it’s just me. I couldn’t find you anywhere—where you at? I thought we could go pick some up and I’ll hang ‘em up. You need me and I’ll be there, ‘kay honey? I, uh, I wanted to ask this girl, but uh, I ended up waiting too long and I’m a little late so… I’ll see you there, honey. I wanted to catch you before we gotta go, in case you wanted to say goodbye. I need to tell you something. Even if it will hurt, even if it will destroy—destroy what we have, I don’t know. I’ll catch you later, darlin’. Have fun, girl. Save a dance for me, baby. Take care of yourself while I’m gone, sweetness. But I need to tell you, baby. I need to.”
The sobs fall from the broken seal of your lips, loud and crashing, like a waterfall. Your hand, shaking and weak, comes up to try to cover your mouth, but Sam lunges forward and catches your wrist in gentle fingers.
He’s looking at you like you’re everything—and you know, you know now that you are—to him.
“You’ve been saying that this whole time?” you ask, a laugh bubbling up from your lungs. No flowers retch up your throat.
Sam smiles, lips pulling back to reveal that gap in his front teeth.
“You haven’t been listening, baby girl. I’ve been tryin’ to tell you I love you for months.”
He rests his forehead upon yours, and as close as he is, all you can smell now is the spice of his cologne. Nothing smells floral.
“I never would have thought,” you whisper. “I was sure—so sure—that you didn’t love me. I thought because of the flowers, I thought that meant for sure that you didn’t love me. I mean, why would you? Why would you ever love someone like me?”
“Honey,” he says, so softly, “you’re starlight.”
Tears flood your cheeks and Sam cups your face in his large hands, wiping them away with gentle thumbs.
Sam Wilson is sunlight. You never considered that you could be starlight.
“Why wouldn’t I love you, darlin’? You’re so good, so gorgeous, so perfect.” He laughs and it makes you laugh too, but it comes out like a sob. Your heart feels lighter. “But you’ve never considered yourself worthy of love before, have you?”
“I’m sorry,” you cry. “I’m so sorry, Sam.”
He hushes you, soothes you, smooths his palms over the planes of your face and over your hair,
“You don’t have to be sorry, baby. It’s okay. You’re okay.” He presses a warm kiss to your forehead and the memory of every single time he’s kissed your forehead like this flashes through your mind, an electric current, and you wonder how you never saw it before now.
“I love you,” you say, and this time, your lungs don’t feel as though they will burst from the pressure, the roots, the vines twined around them. You don’t feel choked by petals. You don’t taste blood in the back of your mouth.
“I know,” he says, “and if you let me, I will spend the rest of my days with you convincing you that you are worthy of love, honey. Because I’m in love with you. I’m so in love with you.”
When he presses his lips to yours, he doesn’t taste like flowers. Not like the daisies that wrote your death sentence. He tastes like golden pools of sunlight, warm and wanting. This is your heliotropism. You are a magnet for him, Sam Wilson, god of the fucking sun.
And maybe he’s phototropic, always drawn to you, moving toward your starlight.
(“Hey, it’s me. Sorry I missed your call! I’m on my way home now, and guess what? I have a surprise for you. It’s a bit ironic, but I think you’ll like it. What do you think of the name Daisy for a baby girl?”)
#sam wilson#sam wilson x reader#sam wilson x plus sized reader#plus sized reader#sam wilson angst#sam wilson fanfiction#hanahaki au#sam wilson fluff#thanks for supporting me!#divine masterlist#the flowers of evil
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Operation Deku Day- Izuku Midoriya
author’s note: hiiii! so today’s inspiration is drunk sex. anyone who’s ever had drunk sex before knows that shit hit different. Something about it is soo nasty and hot ugh I’m a sucker. I firmly believe that izuku is an insatiable sex god don’t let that innocent sweetness fool you so he was the perfect candidate for my idea. please enjoy! all characters are aged up 18 +
warnings: cussing, smut!, alcohol use, breeding kink? and sex under the influence. also light degradation
summary: For Izuku’s 21st birthday you and the girls decide to throw him a surprise birthday party. As the night progressed, you and Izuku got real drunk and couldn’t keep your hands off each other... in more ways than one.
word count: 2.4k
You spent all week preparing for this surprise party for Izuku. It was his birthday and you really wanted him to feel special and appreciated for being a great friend and loving boyfriend. You were pretty good at pretending that all the things you snuck home were just “things for the apartment” instead of decorations and all his favorite foods for the party. Bakugo being Izuku’s childhood friend couldn’t pass up on helping you and everyone from your graduating class of 1-A prep for the party, keeping everything hidden from Izuku.
“MIND YOUR DAMN BUSINESS DEKU!” He’d yell at him if the green haired pro hero asked one too many questions. Today was finally the day to set up the party. You just had to keep everything hidden for a little while longer. You woke Izuku up with kisses and a plate of his favorite breakfast. He’d always loved pancakes but for whatever reason, he loved your waffles. Izuku could eat them for dinner if you’d let him. He smiled and ate his food, gushing about how he’s finally 21.
“I can drink with you now, Y/N.” He said with a mouthful of waffles. You grinned and kissed him on the cheek as he ate. “So, what are we doing today?” He asked. Even though today was his birthday, the hero still had to work.
“Oh.. uhm.. well.” You struggle to tell Midoriya that you had “nothing planned” knowing that he’d be hurt by that.
“Maybe we could just go out to the bar and have a few drinks?” You lie, wincing at the upcoming disappointment in his voice. He nodded with a weak smile, trying not to seem too disappointed at the lazy plans. But he was grateful anyways and kind of excited to see the bar scene. After eating his birthday breakfast, he stood up from the bed and got ready for the day. While he was in the bathroom you text the mass group chat with the entire class in it named “Operation Deku Day!” Mina had already been messaging you all throughout the morning reminding everyone that the party starts at 9 pm; right when Izuku is expected to be home.
“So what kind of cake does he like? I’m at the bakery right now.” Todoroki texts followed by an image of the options of cake the menu had.
“Get him chocolate.” You text, giggling at the plan all coming together nicely. You wait for a response while looking at all the gifs and memes everyone’s sending sharing the same excitement for the party.
“Cool. I’ll have them decorate it and drop it off at your place, Y/N. Just let me know when Midoriya leaves.” Shoto texts back, you responding with an Ok and answering any questions about the party from the others.
“Your phone’s going off a lot today, Y/N. Who are you talking to?” Izuku asks, his hips adorning a towel as he just got out of the shower. You look his wet body up and down, almost forgetting to respond to the question before he gets too curious.
“OH! Uh, It’s just the girls. Yaoyorozu wished you a happy birthday.” You laugh nervously, clearly awful at keeping secrets. Izuku just smiles and tells you to tell her he said thank you and got dressed in his hero costume.
“Well, I’m off. I love you Y/N. I’ll see you later tonight.” Izuku says giving you a small peck on the lips as he leaves your shared apartment. You wave goodbye as he shuts the door and jumped up from your bed, texting the group chat
“THE EAGLE HAS LEFT THE NEST. OPERATION DEKU DAY IS AGO.”
Momo, Mina and Uraraka spend all day decorating the house and setting the ambiance for the party. Todoroki brought the cake and put it in the fridge and starting making a small ice sculpture in the shape of All Might for the spiked punch he made (He was known for making a good cocktail). Kyoka made a playlist for the party, she was the DJ afterall. She tweaked the stereo so the sound system would be JUMPIN and laughed maniacally as she knew she was gonna rock the fucking house down. Katsuki insisted on cooking since “You can’t cook half as good as he can.” Or at least that’s what Katsuki said. He handed a hot dish of buffalo chicken dip (my favorite) to Mineta, who insisted on helping with... idk something.
“It’s hot on the bottom, idiot. If you drop my dip I’m gonna drop my fucking fist down your throat.” Bakugo shouts, making Mineta nervous as he walks carefully with the dish. Sero and Yaoyorozu were putting the finishing touches on the decorations as you check the clock on your phone. Shit. It was 8:59. You see a text you received from Izuku 30 minutes ago saying he was on his way home and another from just now saying he’s coming upstairs. You squeal and start panicking. He was probably already on your floor.
“Everybody ready? Izuku’s home!” You yell over everyone’s excited chatter. Everyone replied in a harmonious yes and took their places. You run towards the door and adjust your strapless dress, turning off the lights. You stand behind the houseplant by the door and almost squeal in excitement as you hear the door click unlocked.
“Y/N?” You hear Izuku say nervously as he turned on the lights. He gasps as everyone jumps out from their hiding places and yell
“SURPISE!!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY IZUKU!”
He smiles brightly and grabs you, giving you the biggest hug while lifting you off your feet.
“Wow, thanks everyone!” He says excitedly, looking around the room to see all his friends. He became a little emotional knowing that you all went through the trouble of planning a surprise birthday party for him. You wipe his tears and give him a big fat kiss, earning an excited spin from him.
“We love you Izuku. Now, let’s enjoy your party!” You said as you let him to the delicious spread of food to start Izuku off. Kyoko started the music and danced along to the beat to get everyone to join in on the fun. Mina pulled Uraraka towards the living to dance with her as she waved Asui over to join in. Shoto manned the punch bowl, serving everyone with a half smile hoping they like his punch. Midoriya walks over to grab a plate of food from Katsuki.
“Yo, Ka-Chan!” He yelled over the music. Bakugo smirks and gives the birthday boy his plate. They chat over the food and laugh together as they have a good time in each other’s company. Katsuki seemed to cease the usual teasing, just for this one special night. You giggle and run over to the dancefloor with your cup of punch in toe. You drink and dance at the same time, spilling a little bit of punch as it ran down your chin. Mina laughs and takes your hands dancing along to the beat with you. The night was young and the party was a success. You were just glad Midoriya seemed to be having a great time.
Drink after drink you feel yourself get extremely tipsy, stumbling around with a drunk Mina and Asui. Uraraka had passed out on the couch from all the drinking and dancing. Even Momo was drunk, creating a phone to drunkenly call in some pizza since there was no more of the food Katsuki made. It was 1 am and everyone was still partying like there was no tomorrow. Including Midoriya. You had never seen this shy boy act so boldy and confidently. It was kind of a turn on. He was in a chug contest with Bakugo, seeing who out of them both could drink the most drinks the fastest. Ida, Shoto, Kirishima and Kaminari crowded around the two chanting chug chug chug as they both drank themselves into a drunken stupor. Izuku finished first, erupting into a loud and boisterous burp. Bakugo grunts and raises Izuku’s arm in the air claiming him the victor. When the hell did Katsuki EVER admit to defeat?
“ *hic* IZUKU’S THE FUCKING CHAMPION! *hic* And he’s one of my best fucking friends! I- I love you bro.” Katsuki says, slurring his speech and stuttering over his words. Midoriya winks at you, who was watching the whole thing go down from across the room.
“L-Love you too, Kaaaachan.” Izuku slurred, stumbling over to you to give you a kiss. He wanted to celebrate his victory the right way; with a kiss from his girlfriend who was looking sexier than usual tonight. Midoriya approached you, smelling like beer and sweat as he pulled you close to him. Without warning he crashed his lips into yours, turning a sweet kiss into an intense and passionate make out session in front of the whole party. Something definitely took over in Midoriya. He was more aggressive with you than usual. You hear encouraging whoos and a jealous aww from Mineta who wished he was the one kissing you. Izuku waved him away as if he was shooing a fly and lifted you up, carrying you away from the party and into your bedroom. He shut the door with a slam, you squealing with excitement as he heatened the kiss. Izuku’s hands were all over you, groping your ass, squeezing your boobs and leaving sloppy kisses all over your neck. He was a beast, hungry for his well deserved prize.
“Do you know what you do to me, Y/N?” Izuku asked, pulling away from the sloppy kiss as he throws you on the bed. You can’t even answer as you stare at him dumbly, still shocked at your normally sweet and gentle boyfriend turn into a lust stricken beast. He hovers over you on the bed, drinking in your body in that tight little dress you wore. Izuku feels himself stiffen at the sight of you, pulling your panties down under your dress.
“’M gonna leave this dress on. You look so good right now, ya know that? Your tits are popping out of this little thing” Midoriya hisses, taking his calloused hand and rubbing tight circles on your already sensitive bud. You moan at his dirty words, intoxicated on his touch as you grab a pillow and cover your face with it. Izuku snatched the pillow away and threw it across the room, eager to hear your moans no matter who else was around to hear them.
“Let everyone know how good I’m making you feel.” He said, easing two fingers inside you wet walls. You moan like a pornstar, grabbing onto Midoriya’s arm for dear life as he fingered you with a steady pace. Izuku’s eyes were glued to your face, watching you make those faces he loved to see pull on your features as he pulled your breasts out of your dress suckling on your swollen nipple. You pant, gasping at the euphoric feeling as the pit of your stomach tightened, threatening to snap as you approach a fast climax. Izuku noticed you body language automatically able to tell you’re about to cum. He quickened his pace as he watched you arch your back as you came undone before him.
“Good girl.” Izuku coos as he takes his hand and sucked his sweet juices off his fingers. You flutter your eyes open as Izuku pulled his pants and boxers down in one swift movement, his impressive length springing out as you lick your lips at the sight. You wanted him in your mouth so you grab his dick and stroke it with a tight grip earning an eager moan from Midoriya as he grabbed your hair.
“N-No. As much as I want you to, I have to be inside you.” He stutters, pulling your dress up over your hips. He kissed you sloppily, slipping some tongue in as you moan into the kiss. He motioned for you to bend over and you do so with excitement, wiggling your ass to tease him as he smacked it with fervor.
“You ready for me?” Izuku asked tapping his dick against you as you nod and back yourself onto him, feeling his dick slide inside you with ease. You both moan at the feeling as Midoriya grabs your hips and thrusts harshly inside you, holding nothing back as he pulled your hair and smacked your ass. The muffled sounds of the music along with the sinful noises coating the walls of your room were all you could hear as you feel his hand reach forward to rub your clit as he brushed up against your g-spot repeatedly. You scream, trying to keep up with his swift and hard strokes as you throw your ass back on him, gripping the sheets for dear life. You’re sure everyone can hear your loud moans over all the music as you approach a second climax.
“I’m gonna fill that pretty pussy with my cum, baby. You want me to fill you up don’t you, you filthy whore?” Izuku said, earning a frantic yes from you as you whine for him. You’re shocked at his words but more so turned on by them as you clench around him, cumming for him a second time. Izuku hissed as he rode out your orgasm, chasing his own. Soon enough, he’s coating your insides with his hot seed, grunting and moaning as he ruts into you a few more times. You whine at the loss of his dick as he pulled out of you. Izuku watched as his thick sperm dripped out of you, satisfied with the job for now. He grabbed a towel and cleaned you off sloppily, still heavily intoxicated. You giggled and grabbed your underwear and slipped them back on to rejoin the party. Izuku and you were both a visual mess. It looked as if you both just had sex, your hair was an absolute wreck, your dress was disheveled and you were missing a shoe. Izuku was just as bad, sweat glistening on his forehead and he had this big cheesy grin plastered on his face. You hoped you were both inconspicuous enough for you both to just rejoin the party as if nothing happened in your bedroom. But Mina took one look at you two and erupted into laughter.
“You two just had sex didn’t you?!”
#bnha fanfiction#bnha smut#bnha#bnha izuku#bnha midoriya x reader#bnha bakugo x reader#bnha todoroki x reader#bnha x reader#bnha fluff#bnha imagines#bnha bakugo katsuki#bnha bakugou#bnha headcanons#bnha kirishima#bnha midoriya#bnha oc#bnha todoroki
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Ｂｏｔｈｅｒ
📎Word Count: 2.2k
📎Warning/s: smut! minors DNI. mean!fuckboy!bucky x f!reader. unprotected sex. little to no foreplay, because, well, he just wants to get his dick wet. denied orgasm :( no aftercare too lol he’s an asshole in this one. messy facial! some heckin’ words.
📎A/N: jesus fuckiNG CHRIST okay this is one of my longer fics, i’m trying to get back into writing long fics again so, bear with me. fuckboy!bucky playlist to accompany you while reading this <3
📎reblogs, likes, and comments are all welcomed! shower me with validation pls
📎Masterlist || Ask || AFTERDARK
The bass line and the drumbeat made your heart pump in sync. The room reeked of cheap drinks and expensive perfume—sweaty patrons swirling, mingling around, keeping their drinks cold, their hearts warm.
Chatter peaked when the band finished the song, a round of applause rising the frontman’s ego. The spotlight shone brightly on him, the stage lights hitting his back, lighting up his silhouette with pinks and purples.
He beams with adrenaline. All perfect smiles.
Slinging his stickered guitar to the side, he speaks into the mic, “thank you all for coming. We’ve been The Commandos. Goodnight!” The frontman flashes his million-dollar, megawatt smile and bows, earning another applause from the audience.
The rest of the band slinked out the back, bowing, giving out air-kisses and waves. Another band piles onto the stage, waving hello to the gathering crowd.
You sigh, the bottom of your shoes sticking to the dirty floor of the bar. The overhead lights of the bar a bright yellow contrast to the stage’s red hue. The beer in your hand condensing, the tips of your fingers damp in the process. The warmth of the place piling on your impatience.
Pushing yourself off the bar, you make your way to the back, one thing echoing in your mind. Familiar faces crowd your vision, sending a polite smile their way.
A door stands in front of you, the wood stained with stickers and posters and autographs. You knock twice before turning the knob.
“Where’s Bucky?” You say, leaning against the door frame. The door slowly swings open.
A blonde man, what’s-his-face, looks at you and puts down a pair of drumsticks, “‘Dunno what to tell ya, but he’s not here.”
Your roll your eyes, sending him a mirthless smile, “yeah, obviously. I was hoping if you could tell him to meet me tonight.”
Steve—you suddenly remembered his name—eyed you head to foot, a smirk plastered on his face, “Sounds important. Why don’t you hang out with us while waiting for him?”
A chuckle escapes your lips, “no, thanks. I’ll meet him outside.”
Steve makes a face, quirking a light brow to the rest of the group. All of them sharing the same look, “alright. Suit yourself.”
The clock ticks just ten minutes after 11, your patience growing thin as a needle. A gaggle of drunk patrons stumbles out the door when you spot him—leather jacket, distressed, ripped pants.
“Where’s my ring?” Without missing a beat.
Bucky’s lips quirk into a smirk, “whoa, baby, we fucked once,” he made you come thrice, “and you’re asking for a ring already?”
A shiver runs up your spine, whether it’s from disgust or something else, it wasn’t clear, “you know what I meant. I left my ring on your nightstand.”
“Deliberately, or…”
Your hands curl up in frustration, your left shin itching, “c’mon. Do you have it or not?”
His intentionally undone boots scuffed against the floor as he stalks closer to you, his perfume invading your olfactory senses. Oh, he smells good.
“D’you wanna find out?” His voice dropping a couple of octaves, whispering into the shell of your ear. His thick arms caging you against the bar and the wall. Fuck, he smells really good.
A feeble attempt to make room goes unnoticed, your breath hitching in your throat, “If you don’t have it on you, I’d gladly receive it through the mail.”
Bucky licks his tinged lips, a vein in his temple ticking—the lighting reflecting in his blue eyes, “why would I mail it to you when you can pick it up from my place?”
A rational voice in your head echoes, fighting with your impulse. The closeness of both of your bodies radiating warmth and electricity.
“Fine.” You relented, impulsivity is what got you there in the first place.
The drive to the place shouldn’t take too long, the little shit deliberately took the long way to his place.
While you sit on the passenger side of his car, he keeps sending you amused glances. As if he couldn’t believe you’d willingly go with him tonight. Well, technically, it really wasn’t part of your plan.
“You wanna get burgers first?” He offers, lowering the music coming from the car’s stereo.
“I wanna get my ring back, Bucky.” You say, reminding him—and yourself—of what your agenda for tonight is.
He dismisses you, as per usual. And pulls over a drive-through of a local burger place, ordering himself a meal.
Instead of getting back out on the highway, he parks the car, rolls down the window, and eats.
“Jesus- fuck, Bucky!” You exclaimed in frustration, “look, if you want to waste my time, then-”
“Then, what?”
“Then go fuck yourself.” You left in a huff, swinging your legs and slamming the car door shut. Hoping that he’d go deaf in one ear.
Making sure that you’re well visible and in a brightly-lit place, you pull out your phone to book an Uber. Only to find Bucky making his way to you for the second time tonight.
“Hey!” Didn’t even used your name to call you, great work!
“I do have it, it’s really back in my place. By the lamp on the bedside table.” The truth lingers out on the night air, waiting for you to acknowledge it.
You meet Bucky’s statement with a wary squint, he meets your rightful doubt with a smile.
“No more stopovers.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Bucky’s place is a liminal space for you.
The familiar shadows and corners welcome you, the surfaces on where your bare skin sat hissed at you. You stood by the doorway, not wanting to prolong the journey.
“Hey, c’mon, it’s just me. Sit down.” Exactly, it is him.
You shake your head, leaning by the wall like a stranger, “I’m good. You’re not gonna take long anyway.”
But instead of retrieving your jewelry, his form retreats to the kitchen. A few seconds pass and you hear the crack and hiss of a beer bottle being opened.
“Y’know, I think I’ll just get it myself.” You toe off your shoes, placing them by the door. Your jacket still hanging off your shoulders.
You passed by Bucky, walking towards a love seat, two beers on one hand, “hurry up, then. Got a drink for ya.”
Hazy images play by memory the last time you were here, his damn cologne seeping into your nostrils.
Your head hanging by the edge of the bed as he laps your cunt like a man starved.
The headboard supporting your balance as you bounce up and down his thick cock.
Carpeting that gave your knees burn as he fucked you from behind.
Like an etch-a-sketch, you shake your head to get rid of the scenes that made themselves known.
A shining glint from the bedside table catches your eye, you swipe the ring and stashed it down your jacket pocket.
Coming out of the room with your ring, your slight smile falters as you saw Bucky lounging shirtless. As rightfully so, this is his home anyway.
You steeled yourself despite the heat that’s making its way up to your neck, “uh, I already got it. Thanks, Bucky.”
He shoots you a look—a lingering one. Like a predator about to pounce on prey. His stare chasing the goosebumps under your clothes.
“You sure you wanna go? It’s–” he glances at his phone for the time, “–past midnight.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can.” The setup.
“How about I take care of you for a change?” The trap.
And then just as sudden as your arrival, you find yourself pressed up against the wall. The agenda of the night has already been forgotten.
Bucky’s mouth finds its temporary home on your jaw, moving down your neck. His large hands already clawing their way under your shirt, the suddenness of the moment stirring the heat in your belly.
Rushed hands and panted breaths meet feverish lips.
The moment his tongue slipped into your mouth was the moment where you lost all inhibitions. Your hands fly to his nape, tugging his hair, effectively making him moan into your mouth.
“You know me so well.” He purrs against your lips. Hitching your legs up his hips as he presses you harder against the drywall.
“Lots of people know you so well.” You bite back, knowing for a fact that he sees others behind your back.
“True,” he’s murmuring against your pulse point and you sigh, “you’re my favorite though.”
Your jacket clutters against the floor of his bedroom, along with his pants and your shirt. A yellow stream of light emits from the living room.
Bucky tosses you on the bed, sending the pillows crashing on the floor. Though the room is darkened with curtains, your eyes adjust enough to see him as he pulls your ankles towards him.
His abs are chiseled like a Greek god, his skin tanned, decorated with tattoos. His left nipple adorns a stainless steel piercing. Like the last time, he grabs your hand, trailing it along his torso, letting you feel his deep v-lines.
A lewd moan escapes your lips as you cup his hardening cock through his boxers. Thick and heavy, a perfect fit.
“You like it?” Bucky taunts, jutting his hips against your hand. You squeeze him lightly, earning you a deep groan from the man above you.
His hand suddenly tightens around your throat, pulling your head towards him, “I asked you a question.”
Giving him a small nod and a meek yeah seemed to have sufficed until he flips you on your stomach and forces your face down the bed.
Your skirt joins the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Your panties do too.
“You’re so wet for me, aren’t ya?” Bucky taunts, one thick finger swiping the wetness between your folds. Spreading it around as preparation. A muffled confirmation made him chuckle as he pinches your clit with intention.
Taking his leaking cock out of his boxers, he swipes the bead of precum from his angry-red tip. He takes his sweet, sweet time before even thinking about pushing into your pussy.
Bucky drags the head of his cock up and down your fold, earning a needy moan from you—coating his entire length with your wetness.
After seemingly an eternity on your side, the sheets already imprinted their impression on the side of your cheek. Bucky finally, fucking finally, pushes into you. A short, white-hot burn shoots through your nerves, making you whimper.
His hand stays on the back of your neck, pushing you further down the bed as he moves. Your pussy lips gripping his dick like a vice, “so fucking tight. God.”
Bucky’s chest swelled up with pride as he notices your fingers digging into his sheets, “no one can fuck you this good.”
The bed squeaks with both of your weight shifting as he reaches around you, his fingers working around your bud. The pressure of his upper body makes you gasp with every thrust of his hips.
He continues to work you—his fingers circling tightly on your throbbing clit, his cock nudging the soft, spongy spot in you. Your toes curl with red heat as your orgasm begins to burn up your legs.
“I’m gonna-- ‘m so close,” your pleas fell on deaf ears as Bucky chases his own high. His balls slapping against your skin, his hips stuttering as his cock pulsates inside your velvet walls.
He curses, grabbing your shoulder and flipping you upside, kneeling before you. His hand pumping his dick continuously as it twitches—the veins even more prominent.
“Open your mouth, I’m gonna cum in it.” Bucky orders and you obey. Your fingers finding their way to your abandoned bundle of nerves—your climax threatening to fade away.
Thick ropes of cum shoot over your mouth, painting your lips and chin white as he misses.
“God, fuck, look at your mess.” Bucky sighs, he’s already tucked back into his boxers and handing you a shirt—presumably to clean yourself up.
“You got your ring? Anything else?” The annoyance in his tone is evident. The clock ticks half past midnight.
You dangle your purse in front of him as a gesture, the wind picks up and your shoes are loose on your feet.
“Alright, well, you could wait for your ride here, I guess.” Bucky dropped the act the moment he got his dick in you.
“Yeah, he’s just around the corner. Thanks for the, uh, ring.”
He hums, looking at his phone. His thumbs dancing over the keyboard, “Try not to bother my friends again when you wanna reach me.”
You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or to smack the phone out of his hands, “yeah. Tried calling you but I’m pretty sure you blocked my number.”
A curt laugh echoes out from him, “‘m sorry. Out of habit. You know how it is.”
“Right.” And an awkward beat falls over the both of you.
A black car pulls up by the street and you silently thank the stars. By the time you turn around to at least do the right thing and bid Bucky goodnight, you find yourself facing a closed door.
#bitchassbucky writes#works: one shots#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky x reader smut#bucky x reader fluff#bucky x reader angst#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x reader smut#bucky barnes x reader angst#bucky smut#bucky fluff#bucky angst#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes angst#marvel angst#marvel smut#marvel fluff#mcu angst#mcu fluff#mcu smut
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Strip Tease | Ten (m)
Requested by: @unknown5tar (Thank you for being patient with me and ngl I was really nervous while writing this because I really hope you like this! I couldn’t help but add some smut cuz ya kno LOL and I’m such a sucker for enemies/friends to lovers au)
Summary: Ten is a fucking tease.
Pairings: best friend!Ten x female reader
Genre: best friends to lovers!au, suggestive, smut
Word Count: 8.1k
Warnings: a tiny bit of angst (breakup), sexually explicit content, mature language
You and Ten first met at the start of university. You were both dance majors, so you would often see each other in class and on campus in the same department buildings. You had a lot in common with Ten, such as a similar sense of humor, being excellent dancers, and an appreciation for art. Along the way, the friendship gradually went from just friends to best friends, developing into a teasing friendship that was borderline flirting, but it was always just playful.
Once you both graduated university, you both applied to work at the same dance studio and got hired to teach classes there together. Ten teaches b-boying and you teach hip hop. By day, you and Ten were both dance instructors at a dance studio. By night, you were both dancers at a popular club.
The club was widely known for their good-looking waiters and talented dancers. Ten was one of the very few male dancers at the club so he garnered many female customers and even some male customers. He even has some regulars that would come every so often on a weekend night to see Ten dance because the male would occasionally come up with choreographies to make his performances more different and unique.
His performances were quite a sight, to say the least. On Halloween night, he dressed up as a devil and danced, what he calls his piece, “devils”, where he bent his body backwards in a demonic way that left the audience gasping. He sure knew how to move his body in ways unimaginable. His stunning visuals adds to it as well because many have tried to hit on him before.
One night, as you both are heading to the club, Ten informs you that has a new choreographed performance that he is going to unveil tonight, so you tell him that you’ll be in the audience watching. That night, instead of sitting in the waiting room with the other dancers like you usually do, you sat towards the front of the stage, so you got front row seats to see Ten’s new piece.
The audience erupted into loud cheers when the DJ announced that Ten will be the next performer.
Loud upbeat R&B music began blasting on the stereos and bright colorful LED lights flash the room as Ten’s figure suddenly emerges from the red, silk curtains and all the female customers began to cheer loudly. He was wearing a black leather jacket that was zipped up all the way, along with matching black jeans and a belt.
Ten makes his way to the center and sways his body to the music. Nobody knew what to expect from the dancer’s performance today, so your eyes widen when you see him start to slowly unbuckle his belt with one hand. He takes his time removing the belt from his waist before tossing it to the sidelines once it’s off.
Next, he unzips his leather jacket at a snail’s pace to reveal that he wasn’t wearing anything underneath the jacket and practically everyone’s jaw drops. After teasing the audience with parts of his exposed skin, he begins to sensually take off the jacket at a teasingly slow pace. The jacket begins to slip from his shoulders and then his biceps. Once it’s completely off his body, he spots you in the front row of the stage and discards his jacket by throwing it into your hands, knowing you’ll keep it safe for him. You see the flying jacket coming your way and you quickly catch it with both hands.
The audience hollers and whistles at the dancer’s exposed upper body. He was toned and there was body oil rubbed all over his stomach, accentuating the lines of his abs.
Ten lays on his back against the floor and thrusts up into the air, causing the audience to roar and paper bills come flying his way on stage. He slides against the floor on his knees and picks up the money, bringing the bills in between his fingers and stuffing it into his jean pockets.
Once the song is over, the dancer sends a wink to the audience and all the women swoon. You included.
You were honestly really surprised by his performance, in a good way. Your mouth was hanging open during the entire performance, but your lips were sticking up into a smile because that was absolutely amazing. You’ve seen the way Ten moves, but you’ve never seen him do that before.
Once the song is over, the lights dim down and the stage becomes dark. You quickly rush back to the dancer’s waiting room, where Ten probably left to once his performance was over. You barge open the door and look around and spot Ten by the corner taking out all the money from his pockets that he received during the performance and putting it into his wallet. It’s thick with cash.
“Holy shit. That performance was incredible, Ten!” you praise as you make your way over to Ten.
“Go on,” he encourages, basing in the glory of your praise. “I know, it was amazing.”
“The thing you did with your belt and jacket-”
He chuckles, “It’s called strip teasing. I was working on it in private for a few days.”
“You have to teach me how to strip tease!” you excitedly say while handing his jacket back to him. “Maybe I could use it for one of my performances too.”
Ten takes his jacket back. “Sure, I’ll teach you on our day off.”
“You’re the best,” you say as you link arms with him.
Once all the performances were over, it was time for the club to close for the night, or day since they opened until 4 in the morning, so after cleaning up the place, you and Ten both headed home together.
You and Ten were living together and rented a place that was relatively close to both the workplaces so it would be an easier commute. Plus, it was nice getting to live with a good friend. Ten even adopted two cats, named Louis and Leon, which you did not oppose because it was nice to have pets in the house.
The next day, you both didn’t have any work so it was a good time for Ten to teach you how to strip tease. You sport some comfortable dance wear like a loose, cropped t-shirt and shorts while Ten is in a sleeveless shirt and sweatpants. The living room couches are pushed back and the coffee table is temporarily moved to the kitchen so there was enough dance space.
“Strip teasing is pretty easy, to be honest. All you have to do is slowly undress in a sexy way,” Ten states. “Let’s start off doing something simple and easy. Can you go grab a jacket of yours and put it on?”
You nod and rush off to your room to retrieve a jacket as instructed.
While you left to do as told, Ten searches on his Spotify for some fitting music and starts to play some upbeat R&B music from his playlist to set the mood. After setting it to the highest volume level, he takes a seat on the couch with the phone placed to his side and gets comfortable on the furniture.
Soon, you emerge from your room with a light blue denim jean jacket on.
“First, you want to start off with a sexy dance,” Ten instructs. “Just feel yourself with the music.”
You nod and, thankfully, it was a song you frequently listen to, so it was pretty easy to think of a simple choreography for it on the spot. You throw in some body rolls and slowly run your hands down your body from your chest to your waist down to your ass as you sway your hips, all while keeping eye contact with Ten.
You and Ten are both comfortable with each other so it’s not awkward to make eye contact like that. Besides, it’s good practice to get rid of shyness since you’re both dancers so facial expression is very important.
“Yes! Look at you feeling yourself like that,” Ten compliments with a proud smile to hype you up.
You get a little bold as you do a slut drop, where you squat down quickly and immediately pop back up, when the beat drops, throw your ass back, twerk, and even strut over to Ten to take a seat on his lap while your legs rest bent on the sofa.
He looks up at you with a raised eyebrow and one side of his lips curled up to a smirk while you smile innocently at him.
“What’s next?” you innocently ask.
“Next, slowly take off your jacket,” Ten replies, emphasizing the word ‘slowly’.
You take hold of your jacket and begin to strip it off of your body at a snail’s pace, revealing your shoulders and then your arms. Once the jacket is off of your body, you discard it to the other side of the couch.
“How was that?” you ask.
“Very sexy,” Ten praises with a nod. “Especially when you sat on my lap like that.”
“What can I say? I have a great teacher,” you compliment back.
“I know. I’m amazing,” he boasts and you playfully slap his arm for letting your compliment feed his ego. Ten winces from the hit but laughs and wraps his arms around your waist. “But you already got the basics of how to strip tease down. We can watch some tutorials from other professional dancers that I used for reference if you want.”
“Sure,” you nod.
“Alright, now get off of my lap.” Ten playfully smacks your butt and you giggle as you remove yourself from his lap.
Ten gets up from the couch and walks into his room to retrieve his laptop.
As you wait for him, you check on your phone to see you received a notification. It was a text message from your boyfriend.
Boyfriend: I miss you. Are you free today for dinner and movies at my place?
You smile widely as you rapidly type a reply back to him.
You: Of course! I’m in the middle of something right now and I’ll need to change and get ready afterwards so give me a couple of hours?
Boyfriend: Sure thing! Can’t wait to see you later <3
You: I’ll text you when I’m on my way! See you in a bit <3
“Hey, can we end this in an hour or so?” you ask Ten when he emerges from his room with a laptop tucked in his arm.
“Sure. Did something come up?”
“Yeah, I’m going to see Taeyong in a bit,” you reply as you continue to text Taeyong.
You and Taeyong first met at a party during your last year in university and took an interest in each other. After exchanging numbers, chatting over the phone, and a few dates, you and Taeyong have been together for almost a year now.
“Oh, I see,” Ten nods as he sits on the couch, opening his laptop to pull up the reference videos he bookmarked.
After watching a few videos on Ten’s laptop for references on how to strip tease by other dancers, you decided it was enough for the day. You changed clothes, texted Taeyong that you are on your way, and headed out to his place. You knock on his apartment door when you arrive and wait for a few seconds before you hear footsteps approaching the door. Taeyong opens the door and smiles upon seeing your face.
“Hey, babe,” he greets, wrapping his arms around your waist.
“Hi, bubu,” you smile with your arms wrapped around his neck.
“Hungry? I already ordered the pizza for us. I got us your favorite toppings.”
“Yes! You’re the best,” you say and plant a kiss on his cheek.
Taeyong guides you inside his place and the pizza is already set up on the coffee table along with a movie ready on the television screen.
After devouring the pizza, you and Taeyong continued to watch the remainder of the movie. Some time during the movie, one thing leads to another and next thing you know, the movie is long forgotten about as you fall onto Taeyong’s bed with his lips on yours and his body on top of yours. Your hands are wrapped around his neck to pull him in closer while his hands roam around your waist.
As you continue to kiss, an idea pops into your head when you feel Taeyong’s fingers wrapped around your shirt, trying to strip you of your clothing but you remove his hands from your shirt. Taeyong removes himself from your lips, worried because of your actions, but you shush him by switching the positions so Taeyong is now laying on the bed and you are hovering over him instead. The movie begins to play sensual music in the background, which was a perfect chance for you to slowly remove your own shirt, teasing your boyfriend with only peaks of your skin.
Taeyong can feel his dick, still in his boxers, slowly harden as he watches you give him a show. Once your shirt is off and tossed to the other side of the bed, Taeyong marvels at your lacy, pink bra.
“Wow, you look so hot doing that. Who taught you how to strip tease like that?” Taeyong smirks as he stares lustfully at your half naked body.
“Ten taught me.” You reply as you bring your hands behind your back to begin unhooking your bra.
“Wait- Ten?” Taeyong’s eyebrows knit together.
You suddenly stop your actions and your smile slowly drops when you notice the shift in the atmosphere. Taeyong almost seemed...upset at the fact that Ten was the one who taught you how to strip tease.
“Yeah. Why? Is something wrong?” You get off from his body and sit to the side of his bed.
Taeyong sighs, avoiding eye contact with you. He always suspected that there was something going on between you two, but he took your word for it when you said Ten was just a good friend. Taeyong trusts you, he really does, so he tried not to show his jealousy. However, he was always worried knowing that you two live together and how close you two were, so this new fact caused him to snap.
“Y/n, what would you do if I asked you to stop being friends with Ten?”
Your eyes widen at Taeyong’s question. “Taeyong...I can’t just stop being friends with Ten. He’s my best friend.”
“You can’t or you won’t?” Taeyong fires back.
You pause.
Ten is your best friend, so to suddenly be asked to end your friendship with him for your significant other was so shocking that you were left speechless. You really did not want to lose Ten, so who should you choose? You don’t know because you don’t want to make the wrong decision.
Taeyong sighs at your silence. “Y/n...I think we should break up.”
Your eyes widen and you feel your heart drop as you stare at your boyfriend in shock.
“I’m really sorry, y/n. I love you, I really do. But...I don’t think I can be with someone who has another man in her heart. You two are too close for comfort and I can’t help but think that there’s something going between you two, especially since you can’t-or won't- stop being friends with him for me,” Taeyong explains.
You didn’t respond back because you were at a loss for words. Is it really that wrong for a woman to have a comfortable friendship with another man that isn’t her significant other?
After redressing in awkward silence, you trudge back home, feeling numb from the breakup and your brain keeps repeating Taeyong’s words.
When you arrived home and opened the door, Ten was there in the living room, laying on the couch while scrolling through his phone. He looks up to see you staring at him in silence by the door and immediately jumps up from the couch to approach you when he notices the tears on your face as you stare at him with wet eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice laced with concern as he cups your face and gently wipes away your tears from your cheeks with his thumbs. “Why are you crying?”
You wanted to just push Taeyong’s words aside for the night because all you wanted was someone to comfort you right now, so you wrap your arms around Ten’s body and shove your face into his neck.
“Taeyong broke up with me,” you confess.
“What?” You hear him shout, a vibration ringing through his chest. “Why?”
“I-I don’t want to talk about it right now. Can you just...please hold me?” you plead with a cracked voice.
“Of course. I got you,” Ten says as he brings you into a tighter embrace.
You’ll tell him what happened once you’re ready.
That night, Ten laid in your bed beside you with a thick blanket thrown over your bodies for warmth while you quietly sob your eyes out. He strokes comforting circles on your back.
Eventually, you stop crying as tiredness overtakes your body. You glance up to see that Ten’s eyes were closed and his movements have stopped, meaning he probably fell asleep without you noticing. It was pretty late right now, considering it felt like hours since you were crying, so you don’t blame him for drifting off to sleep.
Taeyong’s words today kept ringing in your head as you continue to stare at Ten’s facial features, like the mole under his left eye and then his long eyelashes. You must admit that Ten is a very attractive person, but who wouldn’t think that?
Taeyong is right about being very close because you and Ten are practically cuddling on your bed.
You bring Ten into a tight embrace and fall asleep with your limbs wrapped around his body and your face tucked into his chest. You’re glad you still have him by your side.
The next morning, you woke up with swollen eyes from all the crying last night and Ten was no longer by your side in bed. The smell of food and a sizzling sound lingers in the air, which you assume means that he probably woke up before you did to cook breakfast.
You lightly trudge your feet to the kitchen, the sound of your slippers sliding against the hardwood floor echoing in the hallway. You see Ten in a yellow apron scooping the cooked food from the pan onto two plates with a spatula.
“Morning,” Ten greets with a smile when he spots your awakened figure. “I woke up earlier to make us some breakfast before we go to work later. Come sit down and eat with me.”
You walk into the kitchen and take a seat on the kitchen counter right in front of the plate that Ten just loaded with food.
Your heart softens. Despite being your sassy best friend, he knew when to be sweet and thoughtful whenever you were having a bad day.
“Are you okay to go to work today or do you want to call in sick to have the day off?” Ten worriedly asks.
You shake your head. “I’m okay. I can go to work today.”
Besides, it was better to distract your mind temporarily with work instead of staying home and wallowing in sorrow. You pick up your fork and start to dig into the breakfast Ten prepared for you.
“Thanks, Ten,” you smile, grateful for having such a great friend.
“You can thank me with a kiss,” he jokes as he points his index finger to his extended cheek.
You snort and roll your eyes at him before smacking his arm and you both break out into laughter, which lightens up the mood.
You go through your day with a heavy heart, but you’re thankful that Ten doesn’t ask about what happened yesterday. You do want to tell him, someday, but just not today.
---
A few months have passed since the breakup and you’re back to your usual self again. You still never spoke to Ten about the incident with Taeyong, but you’re not sure if he’s forgotten about it or not. Nothing has changed between you and Ten, your friendship being stronger than ever. You acted the same but you felt weird around Ten now.
The atmosphere felt...different.
You’re not sure if you’re just imagining things but you think Ten is teasing you more than before. There were more lingering touches that sent electricity jolting through your body and sexual jokes thrown every here and there that left you slightly flustered.
It’s probably because of what Taeyong said to you that night that has been making you more hyper aware of Ten’s actions.
Of course you still let him do it and try your best to not let it visibly show that it affected you in any way because that’s just how Ten always has been.
Like just the other day, Ten finished his dance lessons for the day but stayed behind and waited for you to finish so you two could go back home together. You would be done soon, so he decided to kill some time by practicing his choreography.
Once your last session was over, you packed up your stuff and headed to Ten’s dance room which was right next door. Music was blasting in the studio and when the door opens you are greeted with Ten dancing shirtless. He was wearing a cap to capture his hair and his upper body was covered in sweat.
You didn’t say anything because you assumed he noticed you enter the room but wanted to finish before stopping, so you didn’t want to interrupt and just stared at Ten while he danced. The way his body moves around so quickly during the song was very alluring that you couldn’t look away from his captivating performance.
“Enjoying the view?” he smirks.
“No, you just seemed focused so I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“Really? Because my eyes are up here.” He brings out his index finger and middle finger to point each finger at each of his eyes and then points each extended finger at each of your eyes.
You swat his fingers away. “You wish I was staring at you like that.”
“I’m just kidding, baby,” he chuckles before wrapping an arm around your neck.
“Ew, you’re all sweaty!” you squeal as you squirm away from his hold.
“You’re sweaty too. Come here,” he says and chases you around the room with his arms wide open and you run away while screaming.
He manages to trap you against the wall with your head in between his arm and you catch his eyes, staring down at you.
You gulp at the small distance between your bodies because Ten was just mere inches away from your face. You see him leaning his face closer to yours and you await his next move as you feel your heart beating against your ribcage. Is he really going to kiss you right now in the middle of the dance room where anyone could come in at any moment? However, you don’t make any movements to run away, waiting for what’s to come next.
“Gotcha,” he whispers and pulls away with a chuckle. “Let’s go home. I’m hungry.”
Well you weren’t expecting that at all. Thankfully, he has his back towards you while he goes to retrieve his bag or else he would have seen your face slowly heating up.
And there was another time, where you were doing the laundry by folding your clean clothes on the living room couch. Suddenly, Ten emerges from his room and you see him walking over to you from the corner of your eye.
“Wow, you wear some racy underwear,” you hear Ten say.
You look up and gasp with wide eyes because you see your black lace panties dangling from his fingers.
“Ten, don’t look at that!” you shout, embarrassed.
You get up to snatch your article of clothing out of his hands but he’s quick and lifts it higher in the air so it is out of your reach.
“Give it back!” You jump with your arm extended, trying to reach for your panties.
“Try to come get it then,” Ten mocks.
Curse him for using his height against you even though he’s just a bit taller than you.
You frown as you get on your tip-toes to reach for it but Ten continues to back up. However, Ten wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings and ends up backing up so far that the back of his leg hits the couch, so the male falls backwards and you fall along with him.
“Oof.” With eyes closed, Ten lands backwards on the couch while your body falls on top of Ten’s.
You get up on your arms and look down to see the position you two were in: Ten under you while you were on top of him. No words were spoken as you stay still in your awkward spots with wide eyes staring at each other.
“Oh, was this your plan all along?” he cheekily grins. “How naughty.”
You whack his chest and quickly grab your underwear back from Ten with burning cheeks.
---
Ten has been teasing you way too much lately so you decide it’s time to get back at him by playing fire with fire.
You look at yourself in the mirror and grin. Currently, you were wearing one of Ten’s t-shirts that you managed to snatch from his closet when you snuck into his room one day while he was in the bathroom.
It was a bit big on you, but you liked it because it smelled like Ten and he will for sure notice it’s his because it’s one of his favorites.
You weren’t wearing anything underneath, except a bra and matching pair of panties which were covered by the oversized shirt.
From behind your closed door, you hear him outside in the living room playing with one of the cats, because he was cooing at the cat to get his attention so you decided it was time to spring into action.
You exit your room and notice from the corner of your eye that he was sitting on the couch with his attention on Leon. You pretend to grab a drink from the kitchen, making sure your presence was noticed by humming a song.
“Hey, have you seen my-” you hear him say but you pretend to be searching for something in the fridge.
“Uh, is that my shirt?” he asks.
“Hm?” You blinked innocently at him.
“You’re wearing my shirt,” he states, pointing at you.
“Oh is it? I didn’t notice,” you look down at the shirt and shrug.
Ten gets up from the living room couch and makes his way over to you as Leon skimmers away. He places an outstretched arm onto the fridge and the other one on his hip. “Why are you wearing my shirt?”
“I like it. It’s comfortable.”
“Take it off,” he demands.
“Pervert,” you gasp, covering your chest with your arms.
“You’re the one prancing in here with no pants on and wearing my shirt,” he states matter-of-factly.
“This isn’t the first time you’ve seen me in just a shirt and no pants,” you retort.
“Not in my shirt though,” he raises an eyebrow at you. “Give it back.”
You lean in close to his face and say, “make me.”
You weren’t sure what to expect to happen next but the next thing you know is that he’s throwing you over his shoulder and walking away from the kitchen and into his room. He uses his foot to close the door shut and flips you onto his bed.
Honestly, you were pretty surprised by everything that just happened right now so your heart is pounding when he removes you from his shoulder and you land on the mattress.
Ten hovers over your body and peers down at you with his hands by your head and his legs trapping yours. You suddenly lost all that confidence you had to tease Ten back, because right now you feel intimidated by his gaze and slightly turned on?
Suddenly, Ten brings his hands to your sides and begins tickling you. You erupt into a fit of laughter and squirm as you try to get out of his hold.
“Ten, stop! Ah!” you squeal in between laughs. “You know I’m ticklish!”
“Are you going to give me back my shirt?”
“Yes! Okay, I’ll give it back!”
Ten stops tickling you and you continue to lay in his bed while trying to catch your breath. You are both still a giggling mess but once you’ve calmed down you just stare up at Ten who was still on top of you by the way.
“I’ll go change now and give it back to you,” you state meekly, your eyes avoiding his.
“Nah, you can keep it. Besides, you look cute in my clothes,” he winks and gets off of you.
Well so much for teasing Ten this time because he made you flustered in the end. You think it’s best to not tease Ten because it looks like you won’t be able to win against him in this game.
---
You and Ten were invited to a mutual friend’s birthday party held at the birthday boy’s house, so you both make your way over to the party after work. When you knock on the door, you and Ten are greeted by the birthday boy, Kun, as he gestures for you both to come inside. There were quite a few people there already, so you both mingle with some friends you know at the party while taking a couple of shorts.
After a while, you excuse yourself from the conversation to go to the kitchen to grab some food, when suddenly you hear a male voice calling your name.
“Y/nnnn!” You turn your head to the source of the voice and see Donghyuck running towards you with open arms, along with Mark trailing behind him.
An oof leaves your mouth when the younger male’s body collides against yours into a bone crushing hug, knocking the air out of your lungs.
“I missed you, y/n,” Donghyuck coos.
“I missed you too, Donghyuck. Hi, Mark.”
“Hey, how have you been? I saw that you and Taeyong aren’t together anymore because you deleted all his photos from your Instagram,” Mark says as Donghyuck releases you from his hold.
“Yeah, I’m fine now,” you reply.
“Did you guys break up because of Ten?” Donghyuck asks, leaning in his body towards yours.
Your brows knit together at Donghyuck’s question. “How...did you know?”
“Seriously? I can’t believe I got it right,” Donghyuck laughs, “But it was pretty obvious.”
You lean against the wall and cross your arms with a raised eyebrow. “How so? Explain.”
“I always thought there was something going on between you and Ten. Almost everyone did,” The male states. “He would always flirt with you and was super touchy like you’re a couple. I can’t tell if he’s trying to get with you or fuck you.”
Your eyes widen and you even turn to Mark for confirmation and he nods in return, indicating that he agrees with Donghyuck’s statement.
“Well, now that you and Taeyong aren’t together anymore, are you going to do something about the tension between you and Ten?” Mark asks.
Honestly, you didn’t know how to respond. What are you even supposed to do, let alone bring up the topic to Ten without making it awkward?
“Hey Donghyuck, Mark, come help Lucas. The guy is a little drunk!” you hear someone shout before the conversation could continue and the two rush to their aid when they see the giant look like he was about to puke.
After Donghyuck and Mark left, you decided you needed a moment by yourself to think about everything. You’re sitting alone in the balcony of Kun’s room staring up into the sky, thinking about Donghyuck and Taeyong’s words.
Now, you weren’t disgusted by the thought of being with Ten, romantically or sexually. In fact, you have thought about it before and, honestly, Ten knows you better than anymore just as well as you know him. Heck, you even know how to pronounce his full Thai name correctly, which apparently not a lot of people can do.
You and Ten have even made an agreement beforehand that if you two were still single by the time you’re both 30 years old, you would just date each other. The thought of being with your best friend didn’t sound all that bad.
Suddenly, you hear someone walk into the room and you turn your head to the door.
“Hey, what are you doing sitting here all alone?” Ten asks by the door with his hand on the doorknob. “I was looking for you.”
“Oh...I just needed some air,” you reply. “It was kind of stuffy with all the people there. Did you need something?”
“Yeah, it’s almost time to sing and cut the cake,” Ten informs. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Okay, I’m coming.” You close the balcony door and follow Ten out of Kun’s room.
---
Ten went out to do a couple of errands for the day while you stayed behind at home and situated yourself on your bed to watch a movie on your laptop to pass some time. You picked a mature-rated romance. The door of your room was left only partially closed in case any of the cats wanted to come in.
Nothing ever happened after Kun’s birthday party and things were the same as usual. You’re not sure if you should say something because honestly you’ve been thinking about that night ever since.
Half way into the movie there was a sex scene. You didn’t expect how uncensored the scene was, but you continued to watch in silence. However, it left you feeling aroused, watching the main female character getting fucked unprotected by the main male character.
It has been a while since you’ve had sex too, so you couldn’t help but slowly move your hands down into your shorts, past your panties, and begin to rub two fingers against your folds as you continue to watch the movie. Even though the volume was relatively high, you still bit your bottom lip to prevent any noise as you shove two fingers into your entrance.
Your heart was beating like crazy as your fingers thrust in and out of your core. Your fingers felt good but it wasn’t enough. You needed something bigger.
You spot Ten’s shirt hanging from the edge of your bed and you pause your fingers to grab it with your free hand. You bring it up to your nose and it still smells like the cologne he wears.
You closed your eyes, thinking of Ten and what it would be like if it was his fingers inside of you right now instead of yours. Even better, something else. The thought just turned you on more so you sped up your fingers.
A careless whimper of Ten’s name escapes your lips along with light panting as your fingers brush against your walls. You should have closed the door but you never expected he would come home so fast, so you didn’t hear Ten entering the house. His ears picked up the sound of his name coming from your room.
You push your fingers deeper to find your g-spot, when suddenly the door swung open and your eyes widened in shock when you looked up and locked eyes with the man that was on your mind, standing before you with shock all over his face.
He looks at you and sees his shirt in your hand and your other hand down your pants in between your legs.
The room is extremely quiet, except for the noises coming from your laptop of the movie still playing. To make it even more awkward, the actress in the movie just announced her orgasm.
“Are you using my shirt to masturbate?” Ten asks after a silent pause.
Shit. You just want a hole to appear and eat you up alive because you are so embarrassed you could die right now.
You can feel your blood running cold after getting caught in this awkward situation.
“Ten, I-” You were speechless.
You didn’t know what to say because your mind was completely blank right now. What do you say to someone when you just got caught doing something inappropriate and even worse using their article of clothing to get off? You quickly retract your fingers from your core.
You thought Ten would make fun of you or be grossed out by your actions. But instead, he walks into your room, slamming the door shut, gets on to your bed, and hovers over you. It happened so fast that your mind couldn’t comprehend it quick enough that you just froze in place.
Your eyes widened at the dangerous proximity and you felt your heart racing as you peered up into Ten’s cat-like eyes to see that he was staring down at you with such intensity that you’re starting to get a little nervous.
He grabs the wrist of your hand that you just used to get off with his hand and puts your fingers in his mouth, sucking up your juices. He releases your fingers from his mouth with a pop and your eyes are as wide as saucers now at Ten.
For once, you felt it. The sexual tension that everyone constantly mentions between you two. You can actually feel it in the air. You no longer see Ten, your best friend, but a man, standing before you with a dark look in his eyes.
“You taste so good.” He licks his lips to pick up any excess off his mouth.
Ten’s gaze falls from your eyes to your lips and your eyes do the same after you notice his eyes were no longer on yours, but something else.
“If you don’t want this, push me away right now and I’ll stop,” Ten whispers before slowly closing the distance between his face from yours.
But you don’t stop him. You want this just as badly as he does.
When Ten sees no sign of you rejecting his advances, he closes his eyes before he cups your face with one hand and crashes his soft lips against yours. You close your eyes and return the kiss with your hands clinging on his shoulders for support. Ten’s other hands snake around your waist to bring your figure closer to his, so you’re body to body. Teeth and tongue clashed against each other in a rough, hungry kiss, full of passion.
He releases himself from your lips to start stripping you of your clothes in a rush that he practically wanted to tear them off your skin if he could.
Once fully naked, he begins to remove his own clothes and tosses them on the floor. His lips latch back on to your lips again as his hands begin to roam your body, touching your skin, which sends tingles throughout your body from his warm touch.
The male stops the kiss to allow a moment to breathe. However, that doesn’t last long when Ten begins to leave open mouth kisses on your neck and you shiver as he nips a sensitive spot. Then, he sucks hickies all over your collarbone and chests, marking you with purple bruises.
Your back arches off the bed when you feel a warm mouth sucking one of your nipples while the other one is being played with between his fingers.
“Ten,” you whimper.
He releases his mouth from your nipple at the sound of his name escaping your lips and runs two fingers against your folds causing you to shiver.
“Fuck, you’re so wet already.” Ten breaths as he pumps his hardening cock in his other hand. “I wanted to take my time with you, but I want you so badly right now that I can’t wait.”
The statement made you even more wet because you have been craving Ten’s touch for a while now. You want to feel his cock inside of you.
“Hang on, let me go get a condom in my ro-,'' Ten informs you but you stop him by reaching into your bedside table and grabbing a condom from your drawer to hand to him.
You still had a bunch leftover because of your ex. Ten raises an eyebrow at you but decides to ask questions later and to start opening the packet now.
Ten rips the plastic open with his teeth and rolls the condom onto his length. Your pussy was throbbing in anticipation as you stared at Ten’s cock. Once he’s fully sheathed, he tosses the wrapper into your trashcan and positions himself in front of your entrance with your legs planted on his shoulders. Slowly, he enters you and your fingernails dig into his back at the stretch of his length around your wet cavern.
“Fuck, you feel so good around me,” Ten groans as he bottoms out of you.
You felt so full as his cock throbs inside of you from the feeling of your warm walls. You and Ten have never been so intimate before, being skin against skin. You can’t believe this is actually happening and neither can Ten.
Ten waits for you to get used to his size by staring at the place where you two were connected. As soon as he heard from you that it was okay to move, he takes his length out and then slams his cock back deep inside of you. You both moan as he begins to find a steady and hard pace to fuck you into your mattress.
“Tell me, why were you using my shirt to help you get off?” he asks as he continues to thrust inside of you.
Honestly, you were so embarrassed that you got caught by him that you really did not want to tell him, but suddenly, he stops and you stare at him with pleading eyes, asking him why did you stop? with your eyes.
“Answer me,” he hisses, gritting his teeth.
His length was still inside of you but he holds your hips down with an iron grip so you don’t make any movements to pleasure yourself until you answer his question.
“I-I was thinking about you,” you choke out, face heating up.
“You were thinking about me while playing with yourself? How dirty,” he whispers, nipping your ear.
Satisfied with your reply, he begins pistoning inside of you at a speed that made your breasts bounce along with the thrusts.
“It’s because you’ve been teasing me so much lately- saying I look cute in your clothes- throwing me on your bed-”
“-and your reactions were so cute. God, I wanted to just take you right then and there,” Ten pants between each thrust. “Did I make you feel some type of way?”
“Yes,” you whimper.
“Good.” Ten readjusts his positions and hits your g-spot dead on, causing you to see stars as pleasure courses through your whole body. You're a moaning mess and your toes curl as he continues to ram that spot with harsh thrusts.
Your walls begin to convulse around his length and Ten throws his head back at the squeeze. You were close, so Ten picks up the pace.
The movie was still playing, mixed with the sound of moans and your juices squelching with every thrust.
“Ten, I’m about to come,” you announce.
“Me too,” Ten groans as his thrusts become sloppier and uneven. “Cum for me.”
With a few more thrusts, the knot in your lower stomach bursts and you come around his length. Soon afterwards, Ten shoots his seeds into the condom. You are both a panting mess trying to come down from your orgasms. You are both covered in sweat, there were scratch marks all over Ten’s back, and the room smells like must and sex.
After a minute, Ten pulls out from your pussy, removes the condom from his cock, and tosses it into your trash bin.
You and Ten have officially crossed the line from best friend territory.
“Hey,” Ten speaks, catching your attention. “Do you regret what we just did?” Ten asks, concern laced in his voice.
You stared at your best friend, his eyes filled with fear at the possibility that you might have regretted what just happened. But you don’t regret it at all, so you shake your head.
“No,” you reply.
“Good, because me neither,” he happily smiles and brings you into his embrace.
“I-uh...overheard your conversation with Donghyuck and Mark during the party. Is it true that you and Taeyong broke up because of me?” he meekly informs you.
You groan, “Ten, I’m so sorry. I meant to tell you eventually but-”
“It’s okay. I’m not mad. The truth is I never wanted to say anything in case you didn’t feel the same way and ruin our friendship. At first, I was so mad at myself when you started going on with Taeyong because I felt like I just lost my chance. But after what we just did, I need to tell you how I feel so I don’t lose you again,” Ten confesses. “I really like you, y/n.”
You feel your heart swell with joy and a blush creeps up your face. “I really like you too, Ten.”
Now it’s his turn to feel his heart swell with joy because the person he likes reciprocates his feelings.
He lays down beside you in your bed and stares lovingly into your eyes as he uses one arm to support his head while the other strokes a strand of hair away from your face.
“Ten...what’s going to happen to us now?” you ask.
Ten softens. “Nothing has to change. I will always be your best friend, but I wouldn’t be opposed to seeing where this goes.”
A smile slowly spreads on your face at Ten’s words. “Me neither.”
---
Tonight, you wanted to showcase your new performance at the club. You asked the DJ to shoutout Ten during your introduction for helping you with the moves, and to add “my boyfriend” after saying his name which made said boyfriend sitting in the front seat glee with joy.
Loud R&B music began to play and the crowd started cheering when your figure emerged from behind the curtains in an oversized black, thin knit sweater that was long enough to cover part of your thighs and black high heels.
You walk to the center and put your hands on the pole that was securely placed in the middle of the stage. You grind against the pole before lifting yourself off from the floor to do some impressive spins.
Once the music is reaching the chorus, you carefully get on your knees before getting into a fetal position. Then, you lift your ass up in the air, giving it a wiggle and allowing your top to slowly fall. Next, you quickly sit on your knees and your arms wrap around the opposite ends with your fingers grasp the ends of your top and slowly begin to lift it up, revealing something interesting underneath. The shirt began to expose your skin-tight, long sleeve, red bodysuit that you were wearing underneath this whole time.
You’ve never worn it before, so today is your first day wearing it because you recently bought it and wanted to show off in front of the crowd.
The crowd goes wild and Ten’s bites his thumbs trying to hide his wide grin.
You toss the black oversized shirt to the side of the stage and get back up off our knees to strut over to the stage pole again, swaying your hips side to side. The dance continues again and you hope Ten was impressed by your strip tease.
Oh, he definitely liked it because as soon as Ten found you after your performance ended, he pinned you against the wall and attacked your lips into a passionate kiss.
“You were so hot up there. Watching my girlfriend strut like that turned me on so much,” Ten confesses as his dark eyes raked your entire figure while his hands roam your body.
“Turned on enough to fuck me here in the waiting room?” you raise an eyebrow at him.
“Fuck yeah.”
Before anything could progress, you both stopped because there was a banging noise coming from the door that startled you both.
“You two better not be fucking in there!” a voice screams from the other side of the door.
You and Ten looked at each other before bursting out into a fit of laughter at your coworker’s words.
“Sorry, Jongin!”
#nct fanfic#ten fanfic#ten smut#nct scenarios#nct x reader#nct imagines#nct ten fic#nct ten#nct smut
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addicted - l.sy
‘He was like fire, she was his igniter. Together they were each other's addictions.”
pairing: sangyeon x female! reader
word count: 7.0k
genre: angst, fluff, suggestive
theme: gang au sorta??
warnings: SMUT!!, profanity, drinking, guns, blood, kidnapping, bang chan and skz are villians
a/n: hey guys! i wanted to try writing a fic bc why not! this is my first tme ever writing smut so be nice. also this was edited many times but there could be mistakes so just bare with me. enjoy it! i worked really hard hehe -t :D
playlist moodboard
~
“Kevin oh my god. I'm not going to that criminal ball.” I roll my eyes at my best friend.
“Pretty please? You can finally meet Jacob! And I'm pretty sure a certain someone wants you there too,” Kevin smirks from the other side of the work area. I stop cleaning the countertops and stare up at him with wide eyes.
Kevin, and his boyfriend Jacob, are members of the underground mafia group TBZ, which never gets brought up when I'm with Kevin because he knows it makes me uncomfortable. That was until Lee Sangyeon came into the picture. Sangyeon is the leader and “big boss” (as Kevin calls him) of TBZ, and has somehow found interest in me. Ever since Kevin brought him into the cafe a month ago during one of my shifts, I kept bumping into him everywhere. From work, to campus, to even near my apartment. He tries to make small talk with me, which I always ignore and keep distance from him. I see him all the time despite wanting to, and I want nothing to do with him…. even though he literally looks and talks like an angel sent from heaven. I'm positive there is some sort of an attraction between the two of us. But don't tell anyone I said that. Lee Sangyeon is hopelessly attractive and I couldn't help myself to have developed a crush on him. If it wasn't for his shady career choice, I would have hooked up with him in an instant.
“How many times do I have to tell you Kevin? I want nothing to do with him,” I cry while Kevin snickers.
“He's not even that bad, he only hurts people who have wronged him” Kevin explains.”But never mind about him, Jacob really wants to meet you and you said you’re free Friday so please, please pl-”
“Fine oh my god.” I huff while Kevin claps, pleased with himself. “One problem, I have nothing to wear.”
“Not to worry about that sweetheart, I got that covered. Just text me your measurements.” Kevin says. I was going to try to argue with him but I knew he would win no matter what, so I just shot him a thumbs up.
“Anyways babes I gotta go to class now. See ya y/n!” Kevin grins, blew me an air kiss which I caught with a small smile, and walked out of the cafe.
I sigh and put the cleaning supplies away. As I went to greet a customer, all I could think was - it's just a ball, with your best friend and his boyfriend. What could possibly go wrong?
~
On Thursday night, as I was getting ready to make dinner, there was a knock on my apartment door. I went to answer it, but found no one there when I opened it. Instead, a white box with a small bag on top, both had my name on it. “Oh yes.” I thought to myself. “The criminal ball.”
I grabbed both items and brought them to my room to open them. I unsecure the first box to be greeted to white tissue paper and a note on top, which I pick up and read the writing.
“This colour will look ravishing on you. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”
Or at least that's what I thought it said. It was written in a script that I had never seen before, and it certainly wasn't Kevin’s handwriting. Maybe Jacob’s? I put the note aside and unwrap the tissue paper to take out the dress and my jaw drops. I pull out a ball gown that was wine red and had a lace strapless top with a semi-poofy skirt attached. Below it were gold open toed high heels. I laid everything down on my bed and reached for the small bag that was on top. Without checking first, I pull out what was in that bag and gasp. In my hands is a beautiful gold mask with black silk fabric to wrap around my eyes. Fuck. Kevin never mentioned it being a masquerade ball? Now I have a higher chance of running into Lee Sangyeon since I probably won’t be able to tell who's who.
I send Kevin a quick text saying thank you for the dress, cursing him out for not telling me that piece of info. To finish my day, I made my dinner and went to bed early.
~
Friday night at 6:45pm, found me applying my last coat of lipstick as I stood up from my vanity chair. Staring back at me in the mirror was a completely different person. I loosely curled my long straight hair so it was falling down my back in waves. My makeup was not too heavy, yet not too light. My eyeshadow was a nude colour to contrast with my mask, as well as my lipstick was wine red to match my gown. The dress and shoes fit me perfectly (thanks Kevin), as well as the finishing touch, the gold mask.
My phone beeps and I looked down to see a text that the car Kevin sent for me was here, so I grabbed my phone and clutch and locked up my apartment. “Goodbye bed, I’ll see you later tonight.” I thought to myself, smirking.
The car waiting for me downstairs was gorgeous and sleek, and when I entered the back seat, the driver tipped his hat at me and we were on our way.
After driving 20 mins out of the city, the driver turns onto a single sided road where in the distance, I could see a huge house with bright lights shining.
“Oh my god.” I whispered to myself as the driver pulled up to a mansion - no - castle with a staircase leading to the entrance. The car stops and I could feel myself start to get nauseous. The driver came to open my door, lending me a hand so I could get out of the car safely.
“Have a great evening, Miss y/n.”
“Thank you, I do hope so.” I smile softly as I turned to walk up the staircase on this warm June evening.
As I was walking in the big hallway that led to what I'm guessing is the ballroom, I went over my rules for tonight. 1) Don't trip 2) stay with Kevin 3) avoid Sangyeon at all costs.
But of course, when the guards opened the big double doors for me to enter, everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at me as I walked further into the room. I see someone come forward from the crowd of people and my eyes go wide because I know it is not Kevin or Jacob.
Lee Sangyeon is walking towards me like he had been waiting for this moment, and there was nothing I could do about it.
He looks amazing of course, like a walking marble statue that came to life. His light brown hair was pushed back to reveal his amazing eyebrows and smirking lips and he was dressed in a black velvet suit that was so low cut that I could see a glimpse of his defined pecs. He wore a black velvet mask over his brown eyes. Sangyeon had me very much weak at the knees right now so thank god everyone went back to minding their own business.
“Y/n! I'm so glad you could make it.” He smiles at me. That goddamn smile. “You look exquisite.” Sangyeon said to me as he reached down, grabs my hand and softly kisses it while staring at me.
My breath hitches. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” I softly smile at him. “Now excuse me,” I whisper, attempting to create some distance. But his hand on mine got tighter. “May I have this dance?” Sangyeon asks. I nod my head, not sure what took over me. He softly smiles at me and leads me toward the dance floor, where other couples are dancing already. As we were nearing the dance floor, I felt myself trip over my gown. Before I could faceplant with the floor, rough hands were on my waist pulling me up.
“Be careful y/n.” Sangyeon chuckles and I thought I would throw up on his designer shoes.
He puts my hands on his neck and grabs my waist to pull me close to him. Sangyeon starts to sway me back and forth, eyes never leaving mine. As we danced for a few minutes, I felt his thumb lightly brush against my hip bone and I saw him slightly leaning his face towards mine. I finally jumped out of the trance he put me in and unwrapped my arms from his neck.
“I can’t do this. Excuse me.” I told Sangyeon as I brushed past him, leaving him on the dancefloor alone.
I speed walk over to the bar and spot a familiar black head of curls standing with a brunette boy wearing a similar tux.
“Where have you been, asshole?” I yell behind Kevin, making him jump and then smile at me.
“Hey y/n you made it! Meet Jacob, my boyfriend.” He gestures towards the man next to him wearing the same mask.
“Nice to meet you, Jacob. Kev, I'm getting a drink and then calling a cab to leave. I can’t be here.” I say while looking around.
Before Kevin could say anything back, I turned my back to him and ordered red wine from the nearest bartender. I sigh and drink my wine and look over at the guy who is standing next to me.
“Rough night?’ He smiles at me.
“You could say that.” I smile back as I drank more of my wine.
He chuckles and extends his hand to me.”I’m Bang Chan.”
“Y/n.” I shake his hand back.
His smile faded once I said my name.”You’re Lee’s girl?”
I stare wide eyed at him. “I'm who's girl??”
Before he could answer me, a body was standing between us. Sangyeon.
“Piss off Bang, she's mine.” Sangyeon growls at him.
“Excuse me?” I said but no one seems to hear me.
“Chill out Lee, I was just getting to know her, but I’ll leave.” Bang Chan waves bye to me behind Sangyeon’s back and walks away.
Sangyeon turned around and looked at me, his defined jaw clenching tightly.
“Y/n, we are leaving.” He states.
“I am not going anywhere with you!” I yell back while a muscle in his jaw twitches as he clenches his hands into a fist.
“Y/n. I suggest you go with him before he tries to shoot someone, because he will.” Kevin appears and says behind me, squeezing my shoulder. I just nod my head at Sangyeon. Kevin would never put me in danger. Right?
Before I could even say bye, Sangyeon grabs my hand and is leading me out the ballroom door, out of the castle and towards his car.
He opens the passenger seat car door for me. “Get in.” He says to me. I glare at him as I get in slowly.
Sangyeon shuts the door and walks over to the driver side, gets in, takes his mask off, and starts the car without even saying anything. And we are off to god knows where.
The entire drive was silent. Sangyeon is gripping the wheel tightly, rough fingers scattered with rings turning white. I'm too scared to move, only moving my hands to remove my mask and my heels that were starting to hurt my feet.
20 minutes later, we are back in the city and Sangyeon is pulling into a parking garage surrounded by guards. He pulls into a parking spot, and leaves the car after stopping it. I open the car door to follow him, barefoot and all.
In the elevator I kept trying to glance over at Sangyeon, but he’s looking straight ahead, defined jaw still clenched. The elevator door opens and I gasp. I walk out behind Sangyeon to see a beautiful penthouse common area surrounded by glass windows overlooking the city night sky.
Before I could even admire the place and the city lights that surrounded the room, my back is being pushed against a hard wall to face a livid Sangyeon. He grabs my wrists and leans in.
“How dare you talk to other men, especially him.” Sangyeon growls in my ear. “You’re mine.”
I stare at him in disbelief as he faces me again. “I-I will never be yours. You can't tell me what to do.”
A smirk slowly appears on his face. “Oh yeah? We will see about that, princess.”
Before I could even think of a witty response back, Sangyeon grabbed my face and his lips were on mine, and I felt my tough interior crumble as I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him even closer, bodies touching.
He kisses me again. And again. Like he is possessing me. And it was working as I kissed him back hard. “You are mine” Sangyeon whispers against my lips. “No one else’s.” Sangyeon starts kissing down my neck, lightly sucking on certain parts, while I’m biting my lip trying to hold back my moans. It felt so goddamn good, but I'm stubborn and didn't want him to have the upper hand. Sangyeon sucks hard on the crook of my neck, making me release my lips and moan as I feel him smirk against my neck. He won, I lost and now I am melting into his touch.
Sangyeon kisses my shoulders and exposed collarbones, stops and chuckles into the crook of my neck.
“You know I picked this dress for you. Not Kevin.” he says while unzipping my gown.
“What?” I whisper, shocked.
“You heard me.” Then my dress is on the ground, leaving me in just my black strapless bra and panties. Sangyeon is staring at my body with lust covered eyes as I just stare back at him, both of us breathing heavily, a boner starting to appear in his velvet suit pants.
“Wow, you’re so fucking beautiful.” He says quickly before kissing me again hard on the lips, shoving each other's tongues deep inside our mouths.
“Jump” He mumbles against my mouth and I obey, wrapping my legs around him as he carries me to his bedroom, never breaking the kiss.
When we enter his room, he lays me down softly on the huge mattress and proceeds to take my bra off, leaving me topless.
“God, these tits.” I hear him growl as I hiss at the cold air hitting my bare breasts, but the hissing quickly turns into moans as Sangyeon takes my right nipple into his mouth and sucks on it while playing with the other one using his hand.
“Fuck.” I moan loudly, mouth parting.
After rotating, sucking and playing with my breasts, Sangyeon removes his mouth from my nipple and starts to kiss down my stomach, inching towards my panties.
“You're such a good girl for me.” He coos on my stomach as I moan and squirm. Sangyeon brushes his fingers lightly against the fabric of my panties and looks up at me and mouths “you sure?” I nod my head back. He smiles before removing my panties with his teeth. I am now bare naked in front of a fully clothed Lee Sangyeon.
Sangyeon positions himself right in front of my pussy and spreads my legs open as I gasp and watch him lean down. He kisses and sucks on both my thighs, guaranteeing hickeys in those spots later on.
“You’re so fucking ethereal, Y/n.” Sangyeon mumbles and kisses the tops of my thighs softly, and before I could even think, his mouth was on my clit and I scream.
“FUCK Sangyeon oh my god!” I arch my back and moan loud as he licks into my clit.
“So wet me for me already.” He murmurs against my pussy.
He starts to suck and kiss my clit and I can’t breathe. I could feel his tongue exploring my entire pussy, eating it up as if it was his favorite food. My hands found his soft light brown hair and as I ran my hands through it, he sucked on my clit even harder. After for what seemed like seconds, Sangyeon comes up for air and proceeds to put a finger slowly in my hole, pumping in and out.
“You tasted so good, I can’t wait to see how you take my fingers and then my cock.” Sangyeon rasps out as he adds another finger as I'm a moaning mess below him.
“FUCK! Im gonna-” “Cum for me babygirl.” He says while pumping his fingers faster. I arch my back and scream his name while I cum onto his rough digits. He removes them from my pussy and sucks on the juices that got on them.
“Tastes so sweet.” He says while licking his fingers clean and staring directly at my hooded eyes and parted mouth.
Before I can even catch my breath, his lips are on mine quickly, stands up from the bed and unbuttons his blazer, revealing his amazing toned upper body and taking off his pants and boxers, cock slapping against his abs. He was huge, I gulp knowing that that's going to be inside me soon.
“I'm on the pill!” I hear myself blurt out. Sangyeon chuckles at that.
“Good to know y/n.” He says with a smile while running a hand through his hair before positioning himself over my body, hands on each side of me and aligning his cock with my hole.
“This is gonna hurt.” I thought to myself, since the last time I had sex was high school and it was awful to say the least.
Sangyeon starts to slide his dick in slowly and I can’t breathe again.
“Fuck. You're such a tight baby girl.” He rasps out as I let out a string of curses.
Sangyon thrusts into me slowly at first, but when he realizes i'm no longer screaming and just moaning, he removes his cock and slams it back into me hard and fast, which makes me lose my mind. He swears under his breath a few times before he speeds up the movements. I wrap my arms and legs around him, leaving scratches on his back as he leans closer to me and touches his forehead with mine.
“You're so beautiful sprawled out like this under me princess.” he growls into my ear as he thrusts even harder into my pussy, making both of us swear and moan each other's names as I move my hands from his back to his hair and he moves his to play with my nipples.
Between Sangyeon pinching my nipples and his cock tearing me open, the pleasure flowing through right now is something I have never felt before.
“Shit y/n!” Sangyeon grunts and thrusts hard once more into my pussy and pulls his dick out and uses his right hand to pump out his orgasm all over my stomach. His other hand reaches down to rub my clit in circles while kissing my neck and leaving more hickeys to help ride out my second orgasm of the night.
“Fuck Sangyeon!” I scream as I release all over his fingers once again. He licks it up again and mumbles “so sweet princess.” while looking at my dilated pupils.
He gets off me and rolls over so that he's beside my overstimulated body but head is tilted towards my direction.
“Are you okay?” Sangyeon asks me, concerned eyes looking over my shaking body that's struggling to even look at where he is.
“I'm amazing.” I respond back softly, him sighing in relief as he strokes my cheek with his knuckle.
“I've wanted to do this for so long.” He whispers and smiles softly at me.
“Me too.” I whisper back smiling as he kisses my lips softly and jumps out of bed, and runs into the connected bathroom fully naked leaving me alone in his huge bed, body paralyzed.
Sangyeon returns with a washcloth and a bowl of warm water and moves my shaking body so I'm lying on his leg while he dips the cloth in the water and starts to clean me up.
“You did so well for me. You were so beautiful when you came. So beautiful for me.” He murmurs to me fondly, rubbing the cloth over my body tenderly as I'm falling in and out of slumber. As I fall asleep, Sangyeon gets into bed next to me and tucks us both in. He kisses my forehead and wraps his arms around my waist and I rest my head on his chest.
“What a night.” I think to myself before dozing off in Sangyeons strong arms, moonlight shining through the huge windows.
Tomorrow is a new day, where we decide what happens next. But one thing's for sure.
I am addicted to Lee Sangyeon.
~
Light shines through the windows as I open my eyes to an unfamiliar surrounding, and then it hits me. I had mindblowing sex with Lee Sangyeon and now I am lying naked, tangled in his bedsheets. I feel an arm loosely draped around my bare waist. As I sigh and glance over next to me, I find Sangyeon lying on his side, staring at me with fond eyes.
“Good morning, beautiful.” He whispers to me in his deep morning voice. Swoon.
“Good morning, handsome.” I whisper back to him with a smile on my face.
I untangle myself from his arm, and attach my lips softly to his. Sangyeon does not react at first, but proceeds to kiss me back softly and full of tenderness as he cups my face into his hands. I break the kiss and lay my head on his bare chest.
“Last night was amazing.” Sangyeon murmurs into my hair and kisses my temple as I nod back.
Oh fuck, I just remembered. I sat up and faced the man with wide eyes.
“What's wrong baby?” Sangyeon asks, genuinely concerned.
“Fuck, what do I tell Kevin?” I gape at him.
Sangyeon chuckles loudly, eyes crinkling as he grabs my waist and pulls me down towards him. He tickles me, making me laugh.
After lying in bed for what seemed like hours and just talking, Sangyeon reaches over to the night table next to him. He grabs his phone and starts to furiously type as I just stare at his fingers flying across the screen.
“I told Jacob he is in charge over at the house this weekend, which means I get to spend it all with you.” He says as he puts his phone back down. Apparently, now I was spending the weekend at Sangyeon’s luxury penthouse. Good thing I didn’t have work this weekend.
After taking a shower in Sangyeon’s massive ensuite bathroom (and looking at myself in the mirror, in shock at the sight of my hickeys across my body), I changed into the clothes he left me, which seems to be his boxers and a blue and pink pullover sweater. I walk out of the bedroom towards the kitchen to find a very shirtless Sangyeon putting waffles on the island counter. He briefly explained to me earlier that he sent all his staff home, including his cooks, so it could just be us in the penthouse.
“Wow, waffles? You really know the way to a girl's heart.” I say amused as I take a seat on one of the island chairs.
He laughs loud and leans over the island, arms resting on the counter. “It's one of the only things I know how to make, so expect take out the rest of the weekend.” Sangyeon says with a smile on his beautiful face as I wolfed down the waffles in front of me.
“One day I’ll teach you how to cook.” I wink at him.
Sangyeon grabs my hand softly and rubs his thumb over my knuckles and kisses them softly. “I would love that, y/n.” He says with a smile on his face.
The rest of the day is spent just relaxing. Sangyeon shows me around his penthouse, from his impressive indoor gym to his walk in closet in which he implies that will once be mine as well. I ignore his comment. Afterwards, he shows me the tv room where a massive flat screen was attached to the wall and asks me to pick a movie, which I pick The Notebook.
“Really y/n?” Sangyeon rolls his eyes as he sets the movie up.
“Yes Sangyeon really. Now come sit here and enjoy.” I respond as I pat the spot on the leather couch next to me.
After the movie, and laughing at an almost crying Sangyeon, I go to retrieve my phone from my clutch to find 15 missed calls from Kevin.
“Oh good! He didn't kill you!” Kevin cries in my ear after picking up after the first ring.
“Yes Kev, I'm totally fine.” I respond quietly.
“Did you guys fuck?” Kevin asks and when I don’t respond, he screams into the phone, which makes me cringe and move the device away from my ear.
“OMG I KNEW IT YOU HAVE TO TELL ME EVERYTHING! WAS HIS DICK AS BIG AS JACOB AND I THOUGHT?” He yells into the phone as I softly chuckle and proceeds to tell everything to a panicking Kevin.
“Holy shit. I owe Eric $50.” Kevin sighs into the phone after I explained everything to him.
“You were betting on me? Anyways I don't even wanna know.” I say annoyed.
“Are you guys like a thing now?” He asks me.
“I'm not entirely sure.” I reply unsure.
“Well no matter what, I support you sweetcheeks.” Kevin assures.
I snort. “Thanks Kev, right back at you. Gotta go now eat dinner, I'll update you later.”
Kevin laughs. “Enjoy Sangyeons big d-” I hung up on him.
That night found Sangyeon and I, fully clothed, cuddled in bed and holding each other, just listening to each other's heartbeat and making small talk.
“Sangyeon, how did you become the leader of TBZ?” I asked, looking up at him from where my head was on his chest.
He sighs and looks straight ahead. “For generations, a Lee has always led the gang, no matter what. It was between my cousins and myself, but my elders picked me, as my dad was the former leader before he passed and I've always been a leader, even since I was a young boy,” Sangyeon replies.
“I’m so sorry.” I say to him. He smiles softly and kisses my cheek.
“Don’t worry about me princess. Tell me, what are you studying?” He asks me.
“I'm studying childhood studies and english lit so after I graduate I can enroll in a teachers college. I wanna be an elementary school teacher.” I answer him proudly.
Sangyeon smiles at me fondly. “You will be an amazing teacher.” He says while stroking my face with his hands. He kisses me softly as I melt into his touch.
After not being so sure about Sangyeon, I have come to realize how amazing he is. I can feel myself starting to like him more and more each day.
I am his and he is mine and in the end, it's him and I.
~
Months pass, and Sangyeon and I can’t get enough of each other. Everyday when I finish my shift at work, he picks me up and we either go to his place or mine to have dinner. Last week I even taught him how to boil pasta! But, sometimes we don’t even make it to dinner because I end up riding him in the back of his luxury car. Whoops.
One day while we were lying in bed after having sex, I sat up.
“Wait Sangyeon, what are we?” I asked him, facing where he was lying on his back.
Sangyeon sat up next to me. “Well y/n, I'm extremely fond of you and think you are the most intelligent and beautiful girl I have ever laid eyes on, and I wish to give you nothing but happiness and satisfaction. I would love nothing more than for you to be my girlfriend,” He says to me, a glimmer in his eyes.
I stare at him, shocked because no one has ever said anything like this to me, and then I felt myself smile at him as I wrap my arms around his shoulders.
“Yes Lee Sangyeon, I will be your girlfriend. I will be yours.”
He smiles wide back at me. “Then you are all mine.” He whispers back as he connects his lips with mine for a passionate kiss.
Kevin thinks it’s hilarious that I wear more turtlenecks more often, which always makes me turn beet red. Because when Sangyeon and I have sex, he doesn’t just bite, he chews on my body like a fucking dog (“Doesnt it feel so good though?” “Kevin I swear to god.”) I have also gotten to meet Sangyeon’s entire gang, made up of 11 men including himself, and watching Sangyeon speak to them so confidently and leader-like makes my heart flutter. Yeah, I definitely think I’ve fallen in love with Lee Sangyeon.
A rainy Thursday afternoon found me finishing up my shift at work, getting ready to close the cafe as the only employee left. Sangyeon had texted me earlier saying he couldn't pick me up today due to an important meeting, so I was stuck walking home alone. Which was fine with me since my apartment was only a ten minute walk from the cafe.
As I was locking up the cafe doors, I heard a car engine behind me. I turned around smiling, expecting to see Sangyeon, but my smile faded, when the window opened and Bang Chan was in the passenger seat, pointing a gun at me.
“Y/n. Get in the car right now so no one gets hurt.” He commands me in a monotone voice.
“Never.” I sneer back at him and start to back away from the car.
“Fine. Guess we are doing this the hard way.” He replies.
Before I could sprint away, someone appeared behind me, put a cloth to my mouth and grabbed my waist. As the world around me went black, all I could think was, “Lee Sangyeon is going to murder you for stealing his girl.”
Blood. Blood is dripping from a gash in my forehead when I regain consciousness. I look around frantically to find myself in what looked like an abandoned warehouse with my hands and legs tied together with heavy rope.
“Help!” I scream loudly, but that did not do anything for my situation. Instead, Bang Chan enters with another man holding a rifle and I feel another scream forming in my throat. The rope tied around my hands and legs were digging into my flesh and I could feel blood emerging from them.
“Ah y/n! Lee’s playtoy! Glad to see you awake!” Bang Chan claps and smiles at me wickedly while I just glare back.
“TBZ knows you're with us sweetheart.” He says. “We told them it's either you or the money.”
My mouth opens and then closes. “What money? I swear I don't know anything, he never tells me about his work,” I cry to him.
“LIES!” Bang Chan screams. “Han. Go get her.” The other man - Han - walks over to me, ignites the rifle and puts it against my head hard. I start to cry even harder and squirm in my spot even though I feel the rope burning getting worse.
“We are going to try this again y/n. Where is the money?” Bang Chan yells into my face. I spat at him and Han forced the gun to my already bleeding forehead harder.
“I'm done. Shoot her.” Bang Chan shouts.
“No, please don't shoot!” I cry, knowing nothing will make a difference.
As I felt Han press down on the trigger, I stop thrashing and sat still. At this point, there was nothing I could do to stop this myself.
Lee Sangyeon, don't forget about me.
“DON’T FUCKING TOUCH HER!” A familiar voice yells behind Bang Chan.
I wail loud with my last bit of strength I had. “Help m-” BOOM!
Around me, I see the building collapse, rubble hitting my head as it knocks me over. Gunshots were loud and clear although my ears were ringing loud.
The last thing I remember before blacking out again were strong arms pulling me out of rubble.
Beeping. White ceiling. That is what I see and hear when I finally regain consciousness again. Looking around the plain room, I can see that I’m in a hospital bed. There is a bandage on my head and I can feel both my wrists and feet bandaged tightly, as well as an IV in my right arm. I move my head to the right slowly to the hallway window and see guards are positioned outside the hospital room. “Anything for Lee Sangyeon’s girl.” I think to myself and chuckle.
Wait. Sangyeon. Where is he? Is he alive?
“Hey sweet cheeks.” I hear a voice from the other side of the room. I slowly turn my head to see Kevin standing up from the couch that is in front of my bed and smiling at me.
“I'm glad you're okay. You woke up earlier than the doctors thought. You don’t have to worry about the Stray Kids gang anymore. They all died in the explosion.” He explains to me.
I nod my head slowly.
“Sangyeon. Where is Sangyeon?” I rasp out to Kevin.
Kevin softly smirks and shakes his head at the ground. “He's okay, he was here a few minutes ago, he hasn’t left your side in days. I’ll go get him, he's just getting his bandages touched up. He got injured in the explosion while pulling you out of the rubble.” Kevin tells me as I feel tears in my eyes. He would’ve sacrificed himself to save my life.
After patting my head softly, Kevin left the room to get Sangyeon, leaving me alone crying softly.
“Y/n.” I gasp and sit up and look towards the door, where the love of my life, Lee Sangyeon is standing with white bandages on his left arm and tears streaming down his scratched up, but beautiful face. Seeing him standing in front of me, makes me cry even harder. Without saying anything, I rip the IV out of my arm, slide out of the bed and jump into Sangyeons arms, and engulf him in a hug, which he gladly returns.
“I thought I lost you.” I cry into his shoulder as he sits down on the bed with me on his lap. I move my head to stare into his beautiful eyes, that still have his usual shimmer, even after all that has happened. “You'll never lose me.” He whispers fondly as he cups my face in his hands and wipes away my tears softly with his right thumb.
Sangyeon held me like I was a broken doll, fragile but sweet. He whispered sorry to me over and over again, which I quickly shushed and ran a bandaged hand through his soft brown hair.
“I love you so much.” I say to him, grabbing his neck softly and pulling him towards me.
“I love you more princess.” He says while smiling wide at me, which made me smile back at him as we connected foreheads.
~
“God Sangyeon. Go take a shower you stink.” I say to him as we enter his penthouse after being in the hospital for days, which ended with the doctor clearing both of us. I got the bandages on my head, hands, and feet, and he got his bandages removed.
“And you don’t smell y/n?” He smirks at me as I scoff. “Shower with me.” He says, eyes darkening as my breath hitches.
“Okay.” I nod, and we are on our way to his huge ensuite bathroom.
We both strip out of our dirty clothes and get into the massive glass shower, me going in first with Sangyeon following.
I watch him pump the liquid from the shampoo bottle into his hands, and lather the shampoo into my hair as he stands behind me.
“You’re so fucking beautiful Y/n” Sangyeon tells me as I lean my back into his chest. His hands lightly trace my body, lingering on my lower stomach and my breasts. I could feel his erection growing, and being the little greedy bitch I am, I grind down on it slowly. All of a sudden, he turns me around and attaches his lips to mine hard, and we are both caught in a rough make out session. He breaks the kiss and stares at me with lust clouded eyes.
“Are you gonna take care of this princess?” Sangyeon asks me while his eyes are motioning to his cock.
“Yes Sir.” I reply, not sure where that came from, as he pushes my shoulders down lightly and I feel myself fall to my knees.
Without thinking, I grab his hard cock with my hands and pump it a few times.I licked the slit tasting the precum that had come out, before sinking my mouth down his shaft softly, making him swear under his breath.
“Fuck you’re such a good girl. You suck my cock so well.” He hisses while grabbing my hair and guiding my head back and forth while I lap up his precum. He guides my head so that I swallow his cock and I gag on it a bit, which makes him growl loudly. My watering eyes glanced up at Sangyeon to see his head tilted back, mouth open partially.
“Fuck y/n I’m gonna cum. Gonna dirty up that hot mouth of yours.” Sangyeon rasps out as I feel his hot cum go down my throat as he rides out his orgasm. I release myself from his dripping cock and swallow the cum that had landed in my mouth.
“Fuck y/n. Princess. You're so good at that.” He cooes at me while helping me stand up and kisses me quickly and firmly on the mouth.
“Do I get something for being good, Sir?” I ask him while batting my eyes together, trying to pout as much as I could.
“That depends, what do you want? You want me to fuck you in this shower until you can't walk” He asks me loudly.
“God yes!” I answer him. Sangyeon picks me up like I weigh nothing as I wrap my legs and arms around his broad body.
“FUCK!” I scream as Sangyeon slams his cock into my pussy without any warning.
“You’re so fucking tight, shit.” Sangyeon curses under his breath.
I moan like crazy as Sangyeon fucks me hard, every thrust hitting my g-spot.
“You feel so good y/n. Your tight pussy feels amazing around my cock.” He rasps out before sucking on my jaw, making me arch my back and moan. I could feel my orgasm coming already. Sangyeon is a sex god and he knew how to have me cumming within seconds.
“I'm gonna cum in you, y/n, ok? I want you to feel my hot cum inside of you.” He growls in my ear as I loudly moan. I couldn't even answer him, I just nodded my head while leaving scratches on his back.
“FUCK!” We both scream and cum at the same time, I shudder feeling Sangyeons hot load entering my pussy. He drops his head onto my shoulder, whispering praise in my ear as I'm shaking in his arms. Both of us panting and sweating, even underneath the water. When he pulls his cock out, his cum and my cum is dripping fast out of my pussy. Sangyeon puts me down but I start to fall over, so he catches me and starts to snicker.
“Well I guess we have to take a real shower now and clean ourselves up.” He says amusingly as I roll my eyes and smack his chest as he laughs.
~
June 2021, I finally graduate college! As my name is being called, shouts and cheers come from the audience as I look and see the entire TBZ gang jumping up and down. My smile grows even bigger when I'm shaking the headmaster's hand and see Sangyeon, my boyfriend of one year, in the audience holding a bouquet of red roses with a huge proud smile on his face. After enrolling in teacher’s college and officially moving in with Sangyeon, Kevin announces to everyone over a gang family dinner that he and Jacob are getting married, and that I'm his best person, which makes the whole gang erupt in chaos. Sangyeon has to calm everyone down, and congratulates the happy couple fondly, knowing that everyone will be as supportive when he finally asks his best girl to marry him.
Two months later I found myself at the MoonBae wedding. During the reception, Kevin calls all the non-married men and women to the dance floor so he can throw the bouquet. What shocks everyone the most is when I catch it, making Kevin and Jacob both scream and tackle me in a hug. Sangyeon chokes on his glass of scotch and turns purple watching the whole event unfold.
Sangyeon proposes to me one quiet night four months after Kevin and Jacob’s wedding as we are both drinking wine and watching the sunset on his penthouse balcony.
“Y/n, You are the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me.” He says to me with tears in eyes as he gets down on one knee. “Will you marry me?” Sangyeon asks.
“Yes! Of course I’ll marry you. ” I answer him crying.
Sangyeon smiles wide at me and picks me up and spins me around before kissing me passionately.
“I love you so much y/n l/n.”
“I love you more Lee Sangyeon.”
“You’re mine forever.”
“And I'm yours.”
well i hope you enjoyed! sorry if it was bad or rushed again it was my first time hehe
stream breaking dawn and support tbz on kingdom :D
#the boys imagine#the boyz imagines#the boyz smut#sangyeon x reader#the boyz au#the boyz angst#the boyz fluff#tbz imagines#sangyeon imagines#lee sangyeon imagines#the boyz lee sangyeon#the boyz x reader#the boyz sangyeon smut#the boyz scenarios#lee sangyeon smut#the boyz fanfic#the boyz fanfiction#the boyz oneshots#lee sangyeon x reader#kpop imagines#kpop au#tbz x reader#tbz smut#tbz angst
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