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wildernessuntothemselves · 6 months

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Jealousy, Jealousy... | Part 6

A/N: don't even have a summary for this. oc is in love with gyu and gyu is in love with another girl but both are virgin losers and gyu is a horndog who would let oc do what she wants to him just as long as he gets to cum.

Word count: 6.2k

Genre: Smut, angst, fluff

Warnings: fem!reader, loss of virginity, PIV sex, fingering, brief pussy licking, sub!reader, dom!yeonjun.

Despite what Beomgyu said, he and Haeun seem to have become an item, just as you and Yeonjun are now. They’re always together, as you are with Yeonjun, and it’s like you and Beomgyu don’t even know each other anymore. He’s always hanging out with her and you’re always hanging out with Yeonjun. You hardly see Beomgyu anymore, which makes it weird the way he’s sitting on your bed, watching you get ready just like old times.

You remember how you and he used to play a game sometimes as you got ready where you’d pick out various outfits and try them out for Beomgyu, giving him a mini-fashion show that he would narrate as if it was a football game, going on about how groundbreaking the designs are and how pretty the model (you) looks.

He was your main supporter in going into fashion as a major. You don’t think you would’ve had the courage to do it without him. He always believed in you and stood by you even when your parents were upset at you for choosing a career with such an uncertain future. He told you that if one of you succeeds, you’ll just pull the other up too. If his music career takes off, he’ll contract you to be the creative director for the band and if your fashion career takes off, you’ll have to hire him as your model. And if you both fail…well you’ll be strippers together.

You laugh as you remember your promise and turn back towards Beomgyu, who was sitting on your bed watching you. “Hey, remember our backup plan? That we’ll make a two-man stripper show to repay our student debt?”

But Beomgyu doesn’t share your laughter. Instead he just hums, focusing on your dress.

“What? You don’t like it?” You ask, insecure. You’re not used to wearing something this extravagant but Yeonjun is taking you to a photography exhibition tonight and he told you it’s gonna be really fancy.

You’re not sure if being stressed out and sweating as you try not to get judged by all those more talented and influential people is the best idea for a date but Yeonjun insisted that if you wanted to get into fashion, you have to start mingling.

You didn’t even have a proper dress. You had to wear something you made for a fallen goddess shoot you had in mind, but by the look Beomgyu is giving you, it’s probably trash.

"Does it matter?" He asks and you frown. "What do you mean?"

"It means that with what you're wearing, I don't even know why you’re bothering going on a date when you can just invite him over and let him fuck you now, skip the formalities."

"You're unbelievable." You spit out, trying to hide the dread filling your chest and making you struggle to breathe. Yes, the dress was a bit more revealing than you’re used to, but it’s an art event, people wear this stuff there all the time.

“Where did you even get this dress?” He asks in distaste and you hold your head up high. “I made it.”

That makes him back down, his eyes visibly softening as regret shows on his face. “Oh… It’s pretty.”

You snort in disbelief. "Why are you even here, Beomgyu?"

He shrugs. "Just watching this shitshow go down."

“Right.” You mutter bitterly, "I guess it was too much to expect you to act like a friend."

"I am your friend.” He says as if declaring it is enough to make it true. “I'm your best friend."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

He jumps off the bed when he hears that, quickly getting in front of you. "What does that mean?”

"Nothing. I'm going to be late." You try to get past him but he won’t let you. "No. What do you mean by that? You said I'd never lose you."

"Yeah, that was before you transformed into this asshole who accuses me of trying to sabotage his career and calling me a slut for daring to date."

He moves back, stunned at your words, and you almost laugh. Is he really surprised? "I'm just… working through some stuff."

"Stuff? That's your excuse?" You ask incredulously and he looks away. Is “stuff” worth what he’s done to your friendship?

"It's just hard for me to see you with him." He finally admits and you sigh. Not this again. "Beomgyu, I know you’re worried about your band, but Yeonjun and I are adults, even if we break up, that doesn't mean–"

"It's not about that." He shakes his head, cutting you off.

"Then what is it?" You ask, frustrated. Frankly, you’re at your rope’s end with his weird behavior.

"You're too good for him."

"What?” You reel back. Now, this is new. “Is it because he sleeps around? Because we’ve talked about it and he insisted that just because he's had many casual relationships before doesn't mean he's gonna cheat on me. We've been together for a while now and he has been nothing but wonderful to me."

He really has. You don't know what's wrong with you. Why can't you love him the way you love your asshole best friend? Maybe it will come with time? You've known Beomgyu for years and your love for him didn't develop overnight. Maybe you just need to give your relationship with Yeonjun more time.

You hope it doesn't take years to get over Beomgyu and fall in love with Yeonjun though.

"It's not that. It's not him. You're too good for everyone."

"Beomgyu…" You walk towards him and hold his hands. "I know you're not used to me going out with guys because, well, I've kind of lead a fairly loser-ish life--you know, you've been there– and maybe me and Yeonjun won't end up working out and maybe I'll end up hurt but I can't just be virginal forever. I have to try to find someone for me."

"But you have someone." He pulls you towards him, resting his forehead against yours as he plays with your hands. "Me."

That hurt more than any mean thing he has ever said to you and he doesn't even mean to hurt you. He has been terrible to you all this time because he thinks you deserve more? Because he wants things to stay the way they are? That is fucking absurd and so infuriating. Why couldn't he have just told you that instead of acting like an ass? Not wanting to lose you doesn’t mean he gets to order you around. Being worried about you doesn't give him the right to treat you like a stupid slut.

"Don't be stupid." You say harshly, making him flinch. You try again, softer this time, not letting the anger and pain through as much. "I know I have you but I need more."

"More what? Why can't things just stay the way they are? We have fun together, right? I make you laugh. I'm there for you when you're down. We've even messed around. What can he give you that I can't?"

Love. You need love and even though Beomgyu loves you very much, it's not in the way you need.

"Beomgyu, you’re being very childish about this. We're not twelve anymore. I know you’re scared that we'll drift apart if I find someone but the only reason we’ve been drifting apart is because of your behavior. I can't keep coddling you. You may not like it because it’s only been you and I until now, but it's time for me to find an actual boyfriend instead of this–this joke I have with you."

Maybe you’re being too harsh on him but you’re honestly too hurt to sugarcoat it anymore. And you also need to hear it yourself. What you have with Beomgyu isn't real and you need to face the fact that it will never be. "I need someone to actually love and to hold and to be my other half. Us messing around together is just that, messing around, nothing more. I need something real. You do too. I mean you're finally with the woman you've been chasing after for years. Do you really wanna throw that away just because you're scared?"

Still, seeing the way he becomes quiet after your outburst, looking away from you and not responding… maybe you could’ve been nicer about it.

“Beomgyu…” You sigh, reaching out to turn his face towards you but he pushes your hand away, refusing to meet your gaze.

"Go. You’re late for your date." He grits out and you look at the time. Crap. You are!

You look at him again, seeing the tension in his jaw and shoulders, something that resembles pain etched on his features. Should you stay and work this out for him or go on your date? If you stay, you’d be choosing him yet again. If you stay then you’ll just teach him that all he needs to do is act out and you’ll cave and do what he wants. No, you need to make some changes. That’s what you promised Yeonjun when you and him decided to become exclusive. Beomgyu can’t come first anymore.

"I have to go. Let’s talk about this later." You step back, ignoring the hurt in his eyes as you grab your bag and head for the door.

____________________

When Yeonjun said the place was fancy, he wasn’t kidding. You’re blown away right now, surrounded by people you’ve only known about through magazine spreads and hours of admiration through the internet. You can’t believe you’re here in the same room with such talented artists and creators.

You feast your eyes on the multiple displays from different photographers and artists, analyzing their technique, their vision, and their subject, and you’re just in awe. This is exactly where you should be, mingling with the others in your field, making connections, building a network… except you haven’t really gotten the hang of socializing yet. You’re too nervous to talk to anyone. You just stand silently next to Yeonjun as he charms his way through the crowd, joking there, throwing a compliment here or purring a small flirty line that has the other party blushing.

He can turn it on for anyone. He’s so good you can’t help wondering where his charming nature ends and his actual affection for you begins. How do you know he’s not just charming you the same way he charms everyone else?

“Do you like it?” Yeonjun asks, and you snap out of your thoughts. You look around to see that everyone around you has left and you’re standing alone with him. “Huh?”

“You’ve been staring at this particular shot for a long time. Do you like it?” He laughs and you shake your head. “Not really.”

“Really? Why not? It’s well shot, the composition is good, the set design is top-notch and the clothes really complement the atmosphere.”

“That’s all true.” You agree, and he laughs–his sweet tinkering laugh that makes you smile. “Then what’s the problem?”

“I don’t like the model. It’s obvious the photographer was going for a femme fatale look but she doesn’t deliver. She’s supposed to have the face of an angel but the aura of the devil. She has to convey the monster within but she’s so afraid of not looking pretty, it just comes across as if she’s putting on an act rather than losing herself in the madness of it.”

“You really don’t like her, huh?” He laughs, and you furrow your eyebrows. “Well, it’s not really her fault so much as it’s the fault of the photographer. They should be directing the model on how to act and correcting them when they’re doing something wrong. This model is obviously gorgeous and she has the potential in her to look fierce, but with a weak direction like this, all you get is what basically amounts to a child dressing in her mother’s clothes.”

You hear someone huff behind you and turn around to see a very disgruntled man. “And to whom do I owe this very shrewd commentary on my work?”

Oh, shit. Oh, fuck.

“I–I am… I’m nobody.” You squeak, wishing the monster from the next picture over would jump out of the frame and swallow you whole right now.

“That’s right, you are nobody.” The man haughtily agrees.

“Hey, man, she’s just giving her opinion.” Yeonjun attempts to interject but the man pays him no mind. “I am an award winning photographer. I don’t take the juvenile half-baked opinions of nobodies. Come back when you’ve actually achieved something that could hold a candle to what I’ve done over my career. Oh no wait, you’ll never amount to anything if these are the opinions your artistically challenged brain comes up with.”

“Hey–Yeonjun protests, a scene starting to form around you, but you quickly cut it short–the humiliation already too much for you to handle.

“I’m sorry.” You tear up, quickly turning and running away.

Through your tears, you can see the shocked and confused looks of the other patrons so you quickly keep your gaze to the ground until you’re out of the gallery and near Yeonjun’s car in the quiet parking lot where no one can see you cry.

No one except Yeonjun who followed closely after you. “Wait up! Baby–Are you okay?”

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I embarrassed you in front of everyone. I’m sorry I ruined your night.” You babble, tears streaming down your face. “You shouldn’t have taken me to such a nice place. I didn’t deserve it.”

Why the hell did you even think you would ever make it in such a business. The best you’d be able to achieve is etsy store designs and wedding photographs. You’ve just messed up your first chance at making connections AND you fucked up your date with Yeonjun. You’re such a screw up.

“Woah, calm down. You didn’t do any of those things.” He holds you in his arms and you bury your face in his shirt, seeking comfort and a place to hide from him. “Don’t lie. I ruined everything.”

Maybe now he’ll even realize that you’re not as cool as he thought you were. That you’re not actually this artistic person he probably imagined you as and lose interest. He’d know you’re a fraud and dump you. Then you’d be left with no Beomgyu and no boyfriend. Just your loser self.

“You didn’t. But you crying might ruin my shirt.”

You gasp, pulling away and trying to step back but he holds you by the arms, giving you a mischievous grin. “I’m kidding. You can soak me through with tears and snot all you want.”

“You’re an asshole.” You smack his chest, pouting.

“Maybe. But I got you to stop crying.” He says and you frown. He actually did. While you might’ve preferred a more sweet approach to getting you to stop crying, this still worked.

You sigh, little cries bubbling up in your chest still. “I still am sorry. You wanted to do something nice for me and I ruined it with my big mouth.”

“No, you didn’t.” He retorts, wiping away the few stray tears still falling. “I loved hearing everything you had to say. I thought you made some really good points. He was just threatened that you could've done a way better job than he did.”

“You really think so?” You peer up at him, hopeful that he’s not just saying that to make you feel better.

“Yes, but don’t start crying again.” He laughs, kissing the pout you answer him with. “In fact, I’m free if you ever want to try it out. And I want you to know that I take very good direction.”

There goes the flirting again. The one that makes you wonder if he’s sincere or it’s just part of his charm.

"Yeah, we could do that." You say nervously, letting him prop your chin up to press a proper kiss onto your lips.

“Do you wanna get something to eat?” He asks but you shake your head. “Not hungry. Too depressed.”

“Aw, baby, do you wanna head back home with me? I can make you forget all about that asshole.” He brushes your hair out of your face, kissing you again, and you know what he’s really asking.

You’ve already gone on a few dates with him. It’s not too soon for this. This is what people who like each other do after going on multiple dates. And if you want to get over Beomgyu, you’re going to have to completely give yourself to Yeonjun. You can’t be holding anything back in the hopes that Beomyu might want it someday.

You put on a brave smile for Yeonjun. “Yes. Let’s head home.”

____________________________

“Hey, you don’t have to be nervous.” Yeonjun whispers to you, feeling you tense up as he tries to push the straps of your dress down your shoulders. “You’re beautiful."

Does he really think that? You can’t be that beautiful compared to the women he’s been with.

"Did I tell you how much I love this dress?" He asks, toying with the neckline, and you shake your head. "I love it. Makes you look like a movie star. So beautiful and sexy. Almost makes me not want to take it off."

His lips brush softly over your skin, raising goosebumps in their wake before he pulls back to look you in the eye. "But I wanna see all of you. Will you let me see you, doll?"

You nod, holding your breath as he pulls the dress down your chest, kissing every inch of skin on the way until your breasts are bare and his plush lips are wrapped around your nipple.

“Yeonjun…” You whine, grabbing onto his hair as he kisses and kneads your breasts, slowly but surely turning you on.

“Does it feel good, doll?” Yeonjun smirks, one of his hands going between your legs to rub your pussy.

“Yes. Please.”

“I got you, baby.” His mouth moves down your body as he pulls your leg apart.

“Missed this.” He murmurs, reaching your pussy and giving it a wide lick as his finger prods at your opening and pushes through. “Oh, that went in easy.”

“I… I finger myself.” You admit bashfully, covering your face with your hands, feeling embarrassed for some reason but Yeonjun just laughs and leans up to remove your hands and kiss you. “That’s okay, makes my job easier.”

You give him a confused look but quickly realize what he means when he presses another finger into you, moving both of them in and out to loosen your pussy.

“See? All good. I’ll have you fucked open for me in no time.” He drawls, staring you down confidently as he works another finger into you. You tense up on that last one so he uses his thumb to rub your clit to get you to relax a bit. “There you go. Open up for me, doll. Let yourself feel good.”

You’re trying to, you really are. You’re trying to focus on the moment, the burning feeling moving up your body from your pussy that just needs to be quenched.

He’s doing it so well, hitting all the right spots, completely confident and self-assured. He knows exactly what he’s doing. No clumsiness. No unchecked lust. No uncontainable eagerness. Just steady, purposeful movements that touch you places you didn’t even know you were sensitive.

“Feels good.” You slur, pressing your pussy further into his hand, grinding against his palm to seek more of that mind-numbing stimulation. “More.”

“I know, baby. But let me take it slow for you.”

You shake your head. You don’t want it slow. You want him to lose himself in you. “No. Want you now.”

“Doll–”

“Fuck me, Yeonjun. Make me yours.” Please. Please make me yours. Make me stop thinking about him.

Are you doing this for all the wrong reasons? Maybe, but how else are you supposed to get over Beomgyu? Don't they say the best way to get over a guy is to get under another one? Well, you'll just have to test that theory.

Yeonjun relents, shushing your needy mewls with kisses as he takes his hand away. “Hush, doll. I’ll fill you up again in a second.” He undoes his pants and pushes them off along with his underwear before grabbing you by the thighs and lining himself up with your pussy.

“You ready, baby?” He asks and you just stare at his cock.

Has Beomgyu already fucked her? He must have. He’s so needy to get his dick wet that he’d never miss up the chance.

You look up at Yeonjun. “Do it. Fuck me.”

Ok, so maybe you fingering yourself hadn’t fully prepared you for this. Maybe you should’ve taken a page out of Beomgyu’s book and gotten yourself a sex toy–a dildo to practice with before the real thing.

Thankfully, Yeonjun takes it slow despite your earlier demands, thrusting into you shallowly, letting you get used to his length bit by bit.

“Relax for me, doll.” He purrs gently, kissing all over your face as his hands massage your thighs, doing his best to get you to loosen up.

“Yes, Junnie.” You whimper, head falling back as you will your body to relax. You hear a soft chuckle coming from him. “Junnie? That’s cute.”

You blush as you realize what you’d said. You couldn’t help it. You love giving cute nicknames to your friends. And you guess your boyfriend too.

Yeah, because Yeonjun is your boyfriend now and boyfriends and girlfriends have sex. You know Yeonjun must have done it with all his previous girlfriends. It would’ve been weird if you didn’t.

Not that Yeonjun pressured you to do it or anything. But you know he wanted it. You wanted it too. You just couldn’t get Beomgyu out of your head. Which is why it’s good that you’re finally doing this–smothering that last candle you were holding out for him.

“You’re tensing again, doll.” Yeonjun tells you, kissing your neck. “Not that I don’t enjoy it. It feels like heaven when you squeeze down on my cock like that, but I want this to feel good for you too.”

Yes, it’s the right thing to do this… right?

“Okay…” You breathe, trying to relax and focus on the moment, letting your muscles unclench as Yeonjun presses his cock in and out of you.

Once you’re sufficiently relaxed, you start to actually feel good again, his cock feeling much better than your fingers ever did. It reaches places inside you that you never could by yourself. It’s so thick and long, dragging along your walls and stimulating those sensitive spots inside you that make your toes curl.

“Yeah, you like that, baby?” He drawls, taking note of the moans you were now letting out but he still takes it slow.

You breath hitches, his words too closely resembling what Beomgyu had said to you before, and for a split second you see Beomgyu over you instead of Yeonjun, his long hair tickling your face and his intense gaze burning you up.

“Yeonjun–” You gasp, digging your fingers into his arms. “Harder, please.”

Maybe if he fucks you harder, it’ll push Beomgyu out of your brain. Maybe if he fucks you harder, you could mistake his casual affection for the raw passion you crave.

“Are you sure, doll?” He asks, concerned.

“Yes, please, Yeonjun. Fuck me hard.” You insist, hoping your eyes convey how much you need it.

“Your wish is my command, baby.” He grabs your thighs, pressing them against the sides of your body and getting on top of you, driving his dick so deep inside you it makes you throw your head back in a long, choked out moan.

But he doesn’t let up, fucking into you again and again, bullying his cock into your virgin pussy at a brutal pace until you have no more breath to scream, and then he fucks you more.

“Baby, you with me?” Yeonjun pants, not letting up.

“Isss good….” You mumble, brain short-circuiting, caught by the fire spreading from your pussy to set your body alight. “S-so good.”

You vaguely hear him laugh through his own grunts, “Good girl, just lay back and let me make you feel good.”

You nod, tears brimming at your eyelashes at the overwhelming feeling. But you love it, the burning pleasure making its way through your body and making you forget about anyone else but Yeonjun.

“Junnie… soooo good…. Too g-good...” You cry, your pussy fluttering around his cock as it hammers in and out of you, your legs trying to slam together to take a break from the excessive pleasure, but they can’t. Not when Yeonjun’s hold on you is so bruising, his hips keeping at that brutal pace that makes you unable to even string along a full sentence.

“You asked for it, doll. Now be good and take it.” He grunts, bending down to pluck one of your nipples into his mouth, his teeth lightly grazing the sensitive nub.

“No–no—Junnie!” You scream, unable to take it anymore, your pussy clamping down on his cock as your whole body shudders with a blinding orgasm.

“Oh, fuck–baby, baby, I’m cumming.” Yeonjun groans, quickly taking his cock out as he cums on your belly, and replacing it with his fingers when you start crying at the emptiness.

“I got you, doll. I got you.” He murmurs, pumping his fingers in and out of you as he milks his cock of the last drops of his orgasm–letting you both down gently.

When you start squirming at the overstimulation–the fires retreating from your brain–he pulls his fingers out and bends down to kiss you. “It’s okay, baby. You did really well.”

You look up at him, the insecurity creeping back in again now that the mind-numbing pleasure is gone. “Did you like it? Did you like m-me?”

Were you good? Did you live up to his past lovers? Were you supposed to do something more? Be more proactive? Did he enjoy his time?

He chuckles. “Yes. You were great, baby. You felt so good.” He reassures you simply, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

“Okay.” His answer doesn't really give you the reassurance you needed. You don’t even know what you need him to do or say, but you know he’s not giving it to you. And he notices.

“You okay, doll?” He asks, giving you a skeptical look and you nod. “Yeah.”

He doesn’t appear to be convinced by your answer. “Are you sure? Wanna take a shower?”

You shake your head, getting off the bed and beginning to dress yourself up again. “No, that’s okay. I can take a shower at home.”

“Home? You’re not staying over?” He gives you a look of confusion which you reciprocate. “Oh. I don’t know. Do you want me to?”

You blink at him, genuinely unsure. You didn’t want to presume anything. You don’t have experience doing this. You don't know if you’re supposed to stay or if it’s too soon.

“Of course. I’m not just gonna make you go home after we fucked.” He chuckles, pulling you back down to the bed. “You have to stay the night.”

“I don’t know…” You hesitate. If you stay, Beomgyu will probably know what you've done. He'll know that you and Yeonjun had sex. But if you leave you'd be choosing Beomgyu again. You need to let go of him.

“Okay.”

___________________

You end up having a nice time with Yeonjun once you get over your anxiety and trepidation of losing your virginity to someone other than Beomgyu. It's silly but you suppose on some level you thought you'd have your first time with him.

And it's not just that. For a second you let the insecurity get to you and you wondered if Yeonjun would act differently now that you had sex. That he'd show his true face and break your heart, but he doesn’t. He is as sweet as ever, giving you some of his clothes and staying up in bed with you, having those precious pillow talks that are so important early in a relationship.

He is easy to talk to, and when he does that cute thing where he scrunches his nose up and pokes his tongue out as he's teasing you, it makes your heart flutter.

You find out that singing isn’t his only passion--that dancing is his first love. He even gets up out of the cozy comfort of the bed to show you a few dance moves when you whine and insist he shows you. You watch him with a big smile on your face as he executes them so well even in his bedroom, his movements so fluid yet precise, it’s mesmerizing. And when he’s done he smiles that sweet smile of his and lunges back into bed with you and you take him into your arms as if he could actually belong there.

It was so unlike how he usually is on stage and in front of others that it tugs in your heartstrings a bit, making you feel special for being allowed to witness this.

You fall asleep in his arms and wake up in his arms, forgetting about that aching feeling of emptiness in the center of your chest for a few blissful hours.

And in the morning you even make breakfast together. Or more like he makes you breakfast while you make coffee.

“Oh, man. I haven’t had a proper breakfast in sooo long.” You moan, digging into the omelet and sausages he made you.

“You don’t cook?” He asks, smiling as he watches you eat.

“Nope. Me and Beomgyu are hopeless. We’ve almost burned the kitchen too many times that now we don’t even bother.”

“Then what do you guys eat?”

“Frozen goods and slimy take-out. We’re building a formidable gut microbiome. We’re actually part of the country’s biological weapons program.”

Yeonjun laughs. “Well, sorry for ruining your trajectory by feeding you actual food.”

“Ah, well, Beomgyu can carry the torch by himself.” You shrug, mouth full of food.

“You guys are really close, huh?” He asks, and the mood grows a bit gloomy. You chew slowly, thinking your words through before answering. “Yeah, he’s my best friend.”

“He’s more than that though, isn’t he?” He pushes and you hesitate.

Once again, you know exactly what he's asking, and you’re faced with a decision to make between an uncertain future with Yeonjun, nurturing a candlelight that is so shaky it might get snuffed out at any moment, or live on hopes and dreams with Beomgyu, praying for the sun to break out from behind the clouds after years of waiting for it to no avail.

“No.” You finally say, looking up at him, trying to be decisive, hoping it will come naturally with time. “No, he’s not. Not anymore. We’ve agreed to be exclusive, you and I, and I’m serious about it.”

Yeonjun's smile is slow, cautious. “Good to hear.”

Do either of you actually believe it? Do you really think you can move on from Beomgyu? You don’t know but you know that you have to try and you know that you'd like to try with Yeonjun.

________________________________

Still, heading home you feel uneasy. Like you'd done something wrong you’re going to get punished for, and so to ease the guilt and tension, you grab something on the way with you–just some donuts and coffee, a small token of peace, knowing Beomgyu would be hungry and that the best way to get into his good graces is to offer him junk food. It's not like he was going to make himself breakfast or anything anyway.

When you step into the apartment, you find him sitting on the couch just as you had expected.

“Wanna eat? I got you your favorite donuts.” You wave the food next to your head in lieu of a greeting.

He stares at you for a few seconds, not saying anything. Shit, does he know? Can he see it on you? Probably, since you’re still wearing Yeonjun’s clothes.

But he just says, “Sure.” and makes room for you on the couch.

You accept it gladly, watching as he takes the donuts out and offers you some. “No, thanks, I already ate.”

Once again, he pauses, studying you for a second before looking away and taking a bite of his donut.

“Ugh, I was starving. This is the real stuff.” He groans and you grin. "Yeah. This is food as God intended it, processed and fried until it barely resembles food." You hum in agreement, making him giggle.

For a second you think you're off the hook. For a second you think things can just be normal like he wanted. But then he asks you something that stops you cold.

"How was the date?"

You study his expression, trying to decipher a hidden agenda in the question. Is this a trick? Is he asking just so he can say something mean about it? Is he going to act vindictive once you tell him how it went?

But he looks genuinely curious to your scrutinizing eyes, and so you decide to just tell him the truth. "Ugh, awful. You know how completely unaware I am of my surroundings? Well, I started criticizing this one photo and the photographer was standing right behind me."

Beomgyu gasps, a piece of food flying out of his mouth at you. "No! What did he say?"

You brush it off in disgust. "He said I was a nobody."

Beomgyu's face twists up in anger as he puts the food down. "What the fuck? He said that?"

"Well, I said it and he just confirmed it." You explain sheepishly, still feeling the sting of the humiliation even now. "He said he has all these awards and I have nothing and never will and he won't listen to someone like me."

"He's a fucking idiot.” Beomgyu rages, immediately jumps to your defense, “What, he thinks just because he has awards that he's the only one who can have an opinion? You know most of these awards are just rich people smelling their own farts, right? Real talent like yours cannot be measured."

Beomgyu is as fiercely defensive of you as he has always been and it brings a small smile to your face. However, the wound that the encounter opened up is still raw and just that isn’t enough to make you feel better.

"Well, I wish it would be measured a little bit. You know we've both been doing this for years but while your band is getting bigger and bigger–and I'm so happy for you–I seem to be getting nowhere." You tell him glumly. You haven’t gotten any recognition for your work even though you work your ass off, dreaming up concepts, executing them to the best of your ability, and trying to get someone to notice.

"Hey, hey, you will. I am certain of it. No one this talented can go unseen for long. They will notice you one day and they will be blown away." He scoots closer to you, holding your face in his warm hands and caressing your cheeks lovingly. "And hey, if all else fails, you always have that backup plan of being our main stylist and photographer. Me and Yeonjun will make sure of it. And not as a sympathy job either but because we truly believe in you."

"You would work with Yeonjun again for me?" You ask, touched. Beomgyu has been very stand-offish with Yeonjun ever since you started dating him. He only interacts with him the bare minimum to still allow the band to function. It’s not ideal but at least they’re not fighting anymore.

"I would do anything for you." He smiles at you, the smile not quite reaching his sad eyes.

Has his eyes always looked like this? So melancholic? Still, you feel comfort looking into them. You feel love and familiarity. You feel home.

You do your best not to tear up, knowing if you let that dam crumble you'll end up saying things you'll regret. So you hold it together, despite how much you ache to throw yourself in his arms. You missed this. You missed him. You miss what you wish you could be.

But then he takes his hand away and asks quietly, “Did you spend the night with him?”

“Yes.” You admit in a small voice, heart hammering against your chest.

“Got it.” He says simply, and it’s somehow worse than him getting angry. There is a sense of loss there that you can’t explain but it aches, deep and inaccessible.

“Thanks for the food.” He says, getting up and throwing the rest of it in the trash.

"Wait. Where are you going?” You ask when you see him heading for the door.

“Out.” He says simply, seeming to be in a hurry to leave but you’re not ready to let him go yet. “Can't you stay for a bit?"

"I'm sorry. I've got something to get to. But I'll catch up with you later, okay?" He doesn’t even wait for you to answer before he’s out of the door.

“Okay.” You mumble quietly to yourself, letting the tears fall freely, having no reason to hide them anymore.

_____________________________

A/N: AHHHH two more chapter left. the end is nigh and only one boy can win. as always feedback gives me the motivation to write and upload faster. also just to let you know i will be giving patreon a try and an alternative ending to this fic will be published with the losing boy there.

Back to our regularly scheduled programming. which boy do you want oc to end up with (voting has no bearing on the final results though i guess now it doesn't matter because we'll have an alternative ending anyway)

Taglist: @blxxsss @sanasour @tinkw1nks @lol6sposts @zuzuhasablog @beomsl @seolis-world @stantxtorurmissingout @wonwooz1@yaorzu-blog@allylikesdabee@rkivezzs@malieno @leviathanlee26 @yomomas-stuff @kurisaiyunobara @girlwholovekpop @zuzuhasablog @viaaasdiary @ho3forkpop @skzvcr @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n @izzyexe @boomfrogg @kpop-cakepops-recs @chronicallygyu @girlwholovekpop

#txt smut #tomorrow x together smut #dom!idol #sub!reader #fem!reader

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eddiesghxst · 6 months

Text

PRICE OF FAME (PART 9/12)

HIIII HERE SHE IS!! i hope u enjoyyyy <3

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: you have questions and eddie needs to get something off of his chest

contains: enemies to lovers trope, alcohol consumption, sexual themes, angst, feelings feelings feelings, and eddie going through a crisis <3

word count: 5.1k

| previous part | next part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

Eddie’s gonna be sick.

There’s a sweet smell of pancakes and coffee wafting through the air and a dizzying chatter dancing amongst the table, and Eddie’s going to be sick.

He’s not sure why because all he’s had was a cup of throat coat, half a French toast, and a cigarette, but he has a feeling it has something to do with the empty chair across from him. Or maybe it’s the guilt that’s been churning in his gut since the moment he stepped out of your room last night. Or maybe it’s the realization of the truth that Eddie was forced to admit when Richie found him at the studio early this morning.

Eddie’s not sure who told Richie or how much of the story Richie knows, but Eddie hates feeling like this— feeling out of control. It’s a sick feeling Eddie had been used to when growing up, but now that he’s older and has his career and money, Eddie does everything in his power to never get into situations like this— and nine times out of ten, these situations only come with things like the press.

And it’s upsetting— the way this has spun out— because Eddie knew this would be the result, and he was so desperate to avoid it in the beginning, but he’s not sure when that persistence vanished. Somewhere along the line, you managed to find the split in Eddie. The part that needed fixing the most. Eddie’s not sure where that split is, but he feels it, and the change— you— has seeped too deep into his skin to dig out, and Eddie is panicking.

He’s been panicking since yesterday— since he fucking pulled out of you, and you looked at him like he was the only person you’ve ever really seen. Like you were seeing him in color for the first time.

He couldn’t think because all that tossed around in his mind was you.

He couldn’t speak because all that would form on his tongue was your name.

He couldn’t breathe because all he would inhale and exhale was your scent.

He was drowning in you yesterday. Sinking like a stone, quicker than he’d ever intended to— because, believe it or not, Eddie was ready to take the plunge.

He was ready to try and figure out his path of redemption from being the asshole you (rightfully so) hate to someone you could maybe forgive and tolerate. The first step to that was supposed to be the song from the show, but fucking James ruined that.

It was all fucked. Everything was fucked. The way Eddie was going to apologize was flipped upside down, and you both moved too quick, and now Eddie’s in way over his head— because jesus christ, Richie grilled the shit out of him this morning.

Eddie’s going to be sick.

“Anyone know what’s up with Rich this morning?” One of the crew members asks. Jeff shrugs, tossing a grape into his mouth, “Beats me. He’s always upset about something, though.”

Eddie tries to muster through the rest of breakfast, but when Richie comes back into the room without you in tow, Eddie decides he can’t sit here a moment longer with that empty chair staring at him.

Although Eddie practically begs Richie to let him skip out of the group interview, he still finds himself walking down the hall of the hotel. The interview is being held in Richie’s suite and was originally planned to be a few days after the residency was over, but a change of plans with photoshoots in LA caused some last-minute alterations to the planned schedule.

Eddie spent the day holed up in a friend's studio. He hasn’t seen you since breakfast, and the day is almost over now, so it’s safe to say the initial shell-shock feeling of the sticky situation he’s tossed you both into has somewhat dissolved. Eddie didn’t record anything at the studio; he only wrote, and the change of scenery, with the added peace away from his friends/bandmates, gave him a more open space to figure his thoughts out.

So, when Eddie sees you walking out of your room, he immediately knows now is his chance to do what he’s been milling about in his head all day— because when Eddie said sorry and when he spent hours fucking you into your bed to show you just how sorry he was, he meant it— and he needs to tell you that before things get misconstrued as they always do.

You’re not paying attention, too focused on sorting through the questions you’ve prepared for the band, so you’re face is riddled with shock when Eddie places a hand on your shoulder.

“I think we should maybe talk…”

Eddie’s not sure what he expected you to say, but he sure as hell didn’t expect you to turn to him and nod, “Yeah, I think we should.” Eddie nods as well, taking a breath and opening his mouth to speak, but you’re cutting him off before he can even fully form his thoughts, “Where the fuck have you been?”

And that’s not what Eddie thought you would start with, but it’s better than he expected. “Um—”

“I’ve been signing papers all fucking day thanks to you,” You stress, “And the only person that has any answers to the millions of questions I have is you, but you’ve been missing in action all fucking day, so what the fuck?” You snap.

Eddie’s face pinches in confusion, “Signing papers? What papers?”

You scoff, sarcastically shrugging, “I don’t know, maybe the fucking NDAs Richie piled onto me, again, because of you,” You’re tone is dripping in irritation, and Eddie only finds your disgruntled look to be cute. “Thanks for that, by the way. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that I’m not here to ruin your life, but the last thing I want to do is tell the world all about how I was dumb enough to let you fuck me.”

You don’t exactly care that a cleaning maid is just a few doors down, but Eddie does because this is precisely how shit gets into the press. “Jesus Christ,” Eddie mutters, wrapping a hand around your arm and tugging you off into the small ice room off to the side. “Would you lower your fucking voice?” Eddie grumbles as he presses you into the open space beside the vending machine, creating some sense of secrecy from anyone passing by.

Your eyebrows furrow in annoyance as you glare at Eddie, “Why does it even matter when you’ve been practically screaming it from the rooftops?” You point out. Eddie waves a hand and squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head in dismissal, “I didn’t tell Richie shit.” He argues.

And it’s the truth. Eddie didn’t tell Richie anything— he hasn’t told anyone anything aside from what little to the story Jeff and Gareth know. But they would never say something to Richie about it, right?

You snap Eddie from his train of thought, “Then where did you go last night, Eddie?” You ask.

And well, Eddie doesn’t think he’s ready to confess that he practically had a panic attack when he realized he likes you— like, really, really likes you. He’s not ready to admit that he spent the night at the studio, scribbling down words and mixing sounds, cutting clips of his voice, and perfecting it until he passed out from exhaustion. He’s not ready to admit that.

Eddie goes silent, gaze dark and filled with hesitance. His jaw ticks, and he replies with a snap, “It doesn’t matter.” He shifts to turn around and leave— because that’s what he does best— but you reach out to wrap a warm hand around his wrist, and Eddie— god, Eddie’s heart skips a few beats.

“If I had to sign a goddamn NDA, the least you can do is tell me where you went.”

And you’re right. God, isn’t this precisely what Eddie was just writing about?

It’s not difficult, Eddie says to himself. Just tell her you went to the studio— maybe even offer to show her what you were working on.

Eddie thinks he would rather chew bricks.

Before Eddie can fully prepare a response, Gareth pokes his head into the room, glancing between the two of you as you quickly drop Eddie’s hand. Gareth fails to hold back a grin at the scene before him, and Eddie’s shoulders stiffen from the tense situation between you that Gareth fails to catch onto. Gareth points over his shoulder, “Unless you want Richie to start flipping out from wasted time, I suggest you guys head back to the room so we can start.”

“It’s chaotic.”

“Your known sound or the new sound?”

“Both.”

You laugh, shifting in your seat as you twirl your pen between your fingers. Jeff expands on Gareth’s comment, “I would say our past music is chaotic in general, but the newer stuff we have coming is more of an… orchestrated chaos.”

Gareth snorts at Jeff’s answer and mumbles something along the lines of melodrama before Eddie pitches in, “There’s more of a structure to this record. Our past albums have been like… multiple stories in one, and it can be overwhelming, but it’s also exciting because you never know where you’re going next,” Eddie talks with his hands, jewelry clinking with each wave as he glances at you, “And I think this album still has that type of excitement, but it’s more… interconnected. Like there’s bits and pieces of every track within the next one, and it’s just… it’s a fuller experience.”

It’s beautiful— how Eddie thinks and speaks and forms his thoughts about music. It’s so captivating that you could spend forever listening to him talk about music. Gareth is saying something, but you’re hardly listening because you can feel Eddie’s gaze on you, and it makes every hair on your body stand.

When you finish writing a note, you clear your throat before glancing back up at the boys as if your heart isn’t beating out of your chest. “In relation to this topic, do any of you have a specific idea or sound you’d like to explore in the future, maybe?”

Jeff hums, “I grew up listening to a ton of Janis Joplin— and shit like Jimi Hendrix— so I've always had a love for that kind of clash between rock and blues. So, maybe something along those lines." It's utterly off-track from what Corroded Coffin sings, but Jeff, you've come to learn, is the most mellow of the group, so you're not as surprised as most would be.

The boys each answer the question, eventually blending into each other to create one extensive conversation. You ask them what they plan to do when they’re old enough to retire. Gareth wants to venture into the art world; unbeknownst to you, he’s had a knack for art since middle school. Jeff wants to do something with producing, and right before Eddie gets the chance to answer, Richie steps in, clearing his throat and reminding you of the time.

You seem to have lost track of time in your conversation. The boys have a line of press interviews today, but you have more than enough content to complete the article. You thank the boys for giving their time and being compliant, and as you file out of the room, Gareth turns to you, “Are you coming to the dinner tonight?” He asks. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, “Dinner?”

Jeff steps up beside you, slinging an arm over your shoulder as you all step into the hallway, “Of course, she’s coming to the dinner, dumbass; it’s for the entire crew.” He flicks at Gareth’s shoulder. Gareth bats at Jeff’s hand, “Sorry, I didn’t know if that included journalists.” He bites back with a light shove to Jeff’s shoulder.

“I’m afraid I don’t know this dinner you’re talking about.” You chip in. Gareth and Jeff glance at each other before Jeff clears his throat, “Uh— Eddie didn’t tell you?”

Of fucking course, it reflects to Eddie. You shake your head, glancing around the hall, only to see that Eddie is nowhere to be seen. Jeff nods, removing his arm from your shoulder and shrugging, “Well, there’s a dinner tonight, and we have some family and friends coming in from Hawkins, so you’re obviously invited regardless of Eddie’s lack of communication skills.” Jeff jokingly concludes. You nod with a small smile, “I’ll most likely be working through this,” You raise your journal, “But I hope all goes well.”

You don’t stick around to see the looks Gareth and Jeff exchange because you’re too busy trying not to be bothered by the fact that Eddie purposely didn’t tell you about the dinner. But then again, can you blame Eddie? You’ve only known each other for a month, and that entire month has been full of mixed feelings, arguments, and selfish kisses.

Still, you find yourself feeling estranged and saddened— because, despite your complicated relationship, if the roles were reversed, you know you would’ve extended the invitation.

Eddie glances over himself in the mirror for what seems like the millionth time.

It’s stupid, the nerves coursing through his veins, but then again, what Eddie’s about to do could potentially put him on his ass if it goes wrong. Wrong, meaning you say no, curse him out, and tell him to fuck off for the rest of his life. He’d deserve it, sure, but that doesn’t mean it would lessen the sting either way.

There’s a cassette tape in his hand as he walks up to your room, 403, the numbers that seem to be engraved in his mind at this point. He taps the thick band of his ring against the clear case of the tape, teeth digging into his cheek as he knocks on your door.

The silence is deafening as he waits, and Eddie debates if he should just make a run for it before he makes a fool of himself, but then you open the door. And you’re so pretty, and Eddie’s fingers tighten around the tape for a split moment to ground himself because— fuck, what does he say? Why is he here again?

You’re staring at him with a blank gaze, bored and intimidating enough to have Eddie wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

Eddie clears his throat and shifts in his spot, “Are you busy?” You blink, glancing down at the tape in his hand before looking back at him. “Why?”

Well, there’s no going back, Eddie thinks. He raises the tape into your view, “I just need an hour. Just one hour so I can explain.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning against the door, and boredly blink, “Explain what?”

Eddie shrugs, heart racing in his chest as he subtly shakes his head, “Everything.”

Eddie didn’t think you would say yes.

Honestly speaking, Eddie thinks you’re slightly insane for saying yes, but he doesn’t take it for granted— because now, Eddie is walking down Barclay St with you right beside him. It’s busy now that everybody’s 9-5 shift has ended, and there’s a slight breeze kicking in as you trek through the sea of people.

You’re dressed in sneakers, jeans, and a light sweater to keep you warm— and Eddie thinks it’s adorable how the sleeves drape over your hands and how you fuss over it occasionally.

Transit is quicker to where Eddie is taking you, and the subway is always crowded and hectic, so Eddie doesn’t think about it when he grabs your hand as you trot down the subway steps. Your hand is warm and soft beneath his palm, and it feels so natural when you shift your thumb across the back of his hand, trying to keep up with his far strides.

Somebody bumps into you, and Eddie instinctively pulls you closer to him, gazing down at you as he asks if you’re okay. You nod, and Eddie squeezes your hand before continuing on the path to the train.

When you and Eddie get settled on the train, Eddie thinks you might hold onto his hand for the entire ride, but he’s sadly mistaken when you slip from his hold to fold your hands in your lap.

Eddie ignores the pang in his chest.

Eddie has dragged you all the way to Manhattan to stick you in a booth near the back of an old diner called Keens Steakhouse. You’ve never been here, but you’ve heard of it in passing; however, you wish Eddie had told you to wear something nicer instead of this oversized blanket of a sweater you have on.

Eddie is wearing jeans, a shirt, and a leather jacket, so you didn’t think much about what to wear— but that’s Eddie. Eddie Munson, the famous rockstar. Why would he care about the clothes he wears to some diner he’s probably eaten at a million times before?

The diner has dim lighting, but the tables are well-lit with a candle. Your waiter hands you two menus and a bottle before leaving you both to scan over the food items. You don’t bother to open your menu, watching Eddie fill your glasses with a rich wine. Eddie glances at you before clearing his throat, “The chef makes a mean filet mignon, by the way,” He begins as he sets the bottle aside, “And I’m not a big seafood person, but the shrimp is good.”

You say nothing, waiting for Eddie to stop beating around the bush and tell you why he made you trek across the city for wine. He glances at you, faltering for a split moment as he speaks, “We can change tables if you—” You shake your head with a wave of your hand, “It’s not that, Eddie, it’s just—” You huff, “Why are we here? Like, why did you bring me here?”

Eddie shifts in his seat and clears his throat, tapping his finger against the table once before taking a slow breath, “I think… I think it’s best if I explain my side of things before shit spins out of control.” He’s struggling to start, but the words slip from you before you can stop it, “You don’t think it’s too late for that?”

Eddie’s eyes are soft and pleading when he glances at you, pretty lips tucking between his lips as he shrugs, “I was hoping not…”

God, it’s weird seeing Eddie like this— teetering on the edge of vulnerability as he practically begs you to hear him out— if you weren’t so keen on hearing if he has something genuine to say, then you would’ve left a long time ago for the sake of his sanity.

Because you’re selfish and hope to hear something good, you nod, encouraging him to continue.

Eddie fidgets with the rings on his fingers as he begins to speak, “First things first, I just wanna get this out of the way,” He gazes at you, “I didn’t tell Richie anything. If anything, my guess would be someone from the crew told him, but I won’t list off any names.” He waves off.

You know he means James because who else would Eddie be talking about? But even though you strongly feel it wasn’t James, you don’t counteract Eddie’s silent claim. However, you’re not strong enough to hold back a quick roll of your eyes.

“And secondly… about last night.” He falters, and you take a deep breath before shifting in your seat. “It’s fine if you regret it, Eddie. You didn’t need to drag me here to say that; we can just forget it ever happened.”

You’re unsure if that’s what Eddie wanted to say, but you would rather be the first to call it out to save whatever dignity you have left. But Eddie quickly shakes his head, brown eyes wide and soft as he squashes that idea, “No! No, I don’t regret last night at all. I— that’s not why I brought you here.” And Eddie looks at you like he won’t ever get a chance to fix what he destroyed.

A steady exhale and the curling of his fingers into his palm, and you wish you were closer to him, even if he’s done nothing but push you away. You want to feel him. And sure, the flicker of his gaze down to your hand might imply that he wants the same, but you drop your hands to lay in your lap instead of the table, willing him to continue talking.

He clears his throat, “I shouldn’t have left— and honestly, I didn’t even want to leave,” His admission has your head ticking in confusion, “I wanted to stay with you, and I wanted—” He takes a breath, earth soaked eyes locking onto yours, “I left because I knew I didn’t deserve to stay.”

Well fuck, your heart is practically the wings of a hummingbird in your chest. It’s the most open Eddie has ever been with you aside from the time you shared alone in the dressing room, except now you are finally facing the truth of what is unfolding between you.

Wayne’s words spin in your mind for a split moment, “Eddie doesn’t know what to do with nice… He hasn’t had much of that in his life.”

And you wonder why? What happened to create the beautiful mess sitting before you, waving his torn and stained white flag, calling off his troops to meet you in no man's land? And there’s a vast field behind Eddie that you have yet to discover, and there’s the same behind you, patiently waiting for whoever is willing to take the time and map out the intricate paths and valleys. You selfishly want it to be the man in front of you.

“I don’t know how to treat the people who selflessly care for me. I never got that, and it’s weird and new to me, and I didn’t understand how you could do that for— not just me, but practically everyone you meet. But I want to learn how to.”

It’s dizzying, really. The complete 180 Eddie has seemingly made— and is it wrong for you to hesitate to believe him? Is it wrong that you’re still unsure even though Eddie looks like he wants to practically crawl out of his skin? Because Eddie is so far from home, and it doesn’t even take years of knowing him to see that.

You shift your gaze to the table, sinking further into your seat as you tilt your head, and there’s an echo of how you felt last night that rings in your chest as you ask, “Where did you go, Eddie?”

Eddie is so pretty under candlelight. He’s defined and soft, and his hair looks like a golden mane when it catches the light. His eyes, always big and brown with honey-soaked pools of curiosity, they’re softer than they’ve ever been before. His bottom lip is tucked between his teeth and tortured with the jagged crowns of his teeth as he silently stresses.

“I went to the studio.” He finally admits.

And you can’t seem to think of a single reason why Eddie would ever be this nervous to tell you he went to the studio— that’s his job, is it not?

Eddie shifts in his seat to reach into his jacket pocket to pull something out. “I brought you here so I could—” “Excuse me, Mr. Munson.” A waiter interrupts.

Eddie pauses, both of you turning your attention to the pristine man in black. The waiter clasps their hands behind their back, leaning forward as they speak, “Sorry to interrupt, but there’s a group up front claiming to be a part of your reservations. I didn’t see any more seats on the list, but they insisted I check with you.”

Eddie shoves whatever is in his hand back into his pocket as he looks over his shoulder, your gaze following his eyes as he curses. You can’t see much from your seat, so you’re riddled with confusion when Eddie grumbles something to himself as he turns back to the waiter, “Yeah, they’re my friends; send them over.”

The waiter nods and walks off as you send a look of confusion towards Eddie, “I thought there was a dinner tonight? Which, speaking of, why aren’t you there?” Eddie freezes at the question, “You know about the dinner?”

You nod, “Jeff and Gareth told me. Thanks for the invitation, by the way.” You grumble as Eddie stands up. Eddie curses, turning to you and holding an index finger, “To be fair, I wasn’t planning on going.” You raise an unconvinced eyebrow as Eddie turns around and cheers, stepping forward to hug who had expected to be Jeff or Gareth.

However, neither Jeff nor Gareth have light brown, wavy, shoulder-length hair.

It’s a woman, a pretty one with sunkissed freckles dotted all around her face. Behind her, and next to hug Eddie, is a man; soft, brown wisps of healthy hair long enough to kiss the tips of his ears. He catches your eyes over Eddie’s shoulder, and you find that he and Eddie share the same eye color.

Last to hug Eddie is another woman, kind-looking and just as pretty as the first, and with the curly strands that bounce along her shoulders, you might’ve guessed she and Eddie were related somehow.

The first girl peeks over Eddie’s shoulder and smiles, “Who’s this?” She squeaks, “Oh fuck, are we interrupting something? Steve— god, I told Steve we should’ve just waited to see you at the hotel.” The boy, Steve, you suppose, turns to the girl with an annoyed look as they start to bicker lightly. Eddie waves his hands to disperse the small moment, “As happy as I am to see you assholes, we actually were in the middle of something.” Eddie sarcastically smiles.

You roll your eyes and smile as you stand from the booth, “No, no, don’t worry about it.” You assure her as you step forward, placing a hand on Eddie’s shoulder to make room for yourself as you extend a hand in greeting. You tell her your name, and she smiles, “I’m Robin!” She responds. She gestures to the man, “This is Steve,” Steve waves, “And this is Nancy.” Nancy waves and smiles.

“We’re old friends from high school.” Nancy clears up the confusion.

And then it suddenly makes sense. Eddie had mentioned something about his tight-knit group of friends from Hawkins. He didn’t go in-depth on who was who, but you now realize why Robin had sounded like such a familiar name.

You beam at them as the pieces come together, “Oh! Nice to meet you; Eddie’s mentioned you all before,” You respond, “It’s nice to put faces to the names finally.”

Steve awes at that and slaps a hand onto Eddie’s shoulder, “You’ve been talking about us? How sweet of you.” He jokingly teases, squeezing at the dip of Eddie’s shoulder and neck. Eddie bats him away with a ghost of a smile, and you smile, enjoying the look of familiar joy on Eddie’s face.

Eddie ushers you all to sit in the booth— and you don’t ignore the fact that he slides in right beside you. Robin and Nancy sit on the other side, and Steve squeezes in last despite Robin’s protests and grumbles about him having wide shoulders. Eddie sighs, hands fidgeting on the table as he speaks, “What are you guys doing here? I thought you were going to the dinner with the band.” He asks.

Steve scoffs as Nancy snickers, and Robin rolls her eyes, “Yeah, that was the plan,” Robin responds. “But these two,” She gestures between Nancy and Steve, “Didn’t want to dress for it. Jeff told us where you were, by the way.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at the mention of Jeff and his traitorous behavior.

Steve glances around the restaurant, and you catch Nancy’s eyes, sharing a quick, welcoming smile with one another. “Yeah, so can we, like, get out of here?” Steve asks in a bored manner before reaching over to grasp Eddie’s forgotten glass of wine. Eddie flicks Steve’s hand, and Nancy speaks up from the corner of the booth, “Do either of you know a place with good drinks?”

Eddie looks beyond bothered by how his friends crashed your short-lived dinner, so you answer, “There’s a karaoke bar down the street; they have a good happy hour, too.” You shrug. Steve and Robin perk up at the mention of karaoke, and Nancy groans, “God, don’t get these two started on karaoke. They don’t stop.” She complains.

Steve shrugs and slides out of the booth, “Too bad, we’re going.” He tugs his friends out of the booth. With the small window of no attention on you or Eddie, Eddie turns to you, “I’m sorry.” He motions toward his friends. You smile and shake your head, “That’s okay.”

Eddie leans in, and your heart skips a beat. You’re shocked when Eddie’s cool fingers brush against yours beneath the table and slip something into your hand, “This is what I brought you here for.” He softly says.

You glance beneath the table to see the clear cassette tape that Eddie had when you opened your door. You glance back at him, confusion riddled on your features, “What’s this?” You ask. Eddie’s gaze flickers to your lips before locking back on your eyes, “My apology.”

His apology?

Your mind reels for a few moments until you remember what Eddie had said yesterday, “I said sorry. An actual apology, I did it, and you weren’t fucking there to hear it.”

Before you can respond, Steve clasps a hand over Eddie’s shoulder, grabbing both of your attention, “Let’s go, man; I’m gonna battle you in a sing-off.” Behind Steve, Nancy and Robin stand hand in hand, Robin impatiently waving for you and Eddie to get up.

Mind reeling with a mix of emotions; you barely have enough time to shove the tape in your bag before Eddie drags you out of the booth.

With the tape practically burning a hole through your side and your mind telling you to slow down, your heart flutters in your chest as you allow yourself to weave your fingers through Eddie’s.

And when you see the small smile that grazes across Eddie’s lips, you decide to let yourself have this moment, even if you’re still wary of Eddie’s true intentions.

And once again, for the second night in a row, you find yourself in Eddie’s trap.

————

part ten

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a/n: HIIII, you made it to the end !!! look at them evolving :') we're almost to the end friends, hang in there w me i beg !! i hope u enjoyed, and as always, i love love love reading any and all feedback as well as ur silly thots <3 TY FOR READING I LOVE U VERY BIG MWAHHH <3

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cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @ye0nvibezzn @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2

@daddyhetfield @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly @nabiiturner @catherinnn @mossiswriting

472 notes · View notes

matchaelette · 4 months

Text

when exhausted jungkook is equal to a cranky jungkook but you’re just a simple girl

summary: idol!jk and oc!ash, established relationship, both ash and jungkook are working very hard and they’re exhausted to the point where it feels like they might drop dead soon. kook gets frustrated because ash won’t pay him enough attention but soon she ends up pampering his majesty’s ass anyways. also, there’s a backdrop on ash’s life; she is a musician and a part of iu’s band

genre: pure fluff.

warning: none. go crazy children

word count: 4.5k

notes: I know I know, like, a part of iu’s band? isn’t that a bit too much? nah it’s not. I have enough reality chasing me irl, let me have my fun here. also, I hope ya’ll are doing okay. a new year comes with a lot of expectations and responsibilities so don’t be too hard on yourselves <3 happy 2024 peeps :D

“what. do you want. jeon jungkook.”

“ooh she used the full name, have I been a bad boy?”, the words tumble down your boyfriend’s lips with a dramatic flare, followed by a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, unfazed by the sheer force of your previous sentence, “what do you mean what do I want? attention and affection, of course.”

not that you’re counting, but what you assume to be the nineteenth sigh tonight, leaves your lips. your eyelids were so heavy that you doubted if even a fire in the building could wake you up. exhaustion tore at your limbs and you didn’t have the power to lift your eyelids to shoot a glare at your golden retriever boyfriend, let alone muster enough energy to face him and provide him... what did he say again? attention and affection.

you’ve been tirelessly working throughout the week, barely having time to eat or sleep. almost every day you’re coming back home at four in the morning, when jungkook is sound asleep, and leaving again in three hours, when he is yet to wake up. it’s the first time in quite a few days that you came home at a reasonable hour and were tangled in the bed with a very much awake jungkook. but as much as you want to entertain him, your body does not seem willing to cooperate.

you’re a musician, and boy when you pursued a music career, you never thought it could ever make you tired. music has been your love and your life since you could remember and a very fundamental part of your life. whether it was humming random strings of sounds while having your diaper changed as a baby (your parents’ word) or singing meaningless lyrics to any tune you heard when you started talking (again, your parents’ word), your love for music has always just grown. you’re now a full-blown musician, having the privilege to work with all the a-rated musicians of the world. you are pretty much a regular member of iu’s band— iu being the living legend of korea and the forever-long crush of jungkook’s life— but you still worked with other artists from time to time, sometimes as a producer, sometimes as a composer.

throughout your high school years, you developed a reputation as the person who would randomly start humming during examinations, writing lyrics on her exam papers, and always playing instruments or plainly singing in every single school function. and if that wasn’t a wake-up call, getting scouted as a musician through your personal instagram was certainly one. it happened right during the end of high school when you were preparing for uni, and the single event changed everything in your life. you were scouted by an agency called bighit, and they convinced you to audition, intriguing you enough to skip school one day and show up in a rusty building in the gangnam district of seoul with a guitar hanging on your shoulder. impressed by your skills, they signed you up as a trainee.

it was one of the best things that happened in your life.

ironically, it was also where you met your boyfriend for the first time.

saying your parents weren’t happy when you decided to completely backtrack from uni and focus solely on music would be an understatement. you were always an exceptional student— part of the reason your teachers would always overlook you humming in class or using your projects as a canvas for your musical colors— and were supposed to major in business studies as your parents’ wishes. while it was never something you hated— in fact, you always thought that you’d rather be a super successful businesswoman if you couldn’t be a musician— but having your first choice being handed to you on a silver platter, you'd be a fool not to take it. your parents were enraged, they cut you off from the family entirely, but you were nothing if not stubborn. determined to make it, alone if you have to, you've worked your ass off for all these years to get into the position you’re in now, a place where your name is gold-plated in the music industry.

but success was never truly your goal. your goal was to simply stay immersed in a world of music and you can’t help but take pride of how far all alone. but working like your life depended on it became sort of a habit, sometimes to the point where a singular musical note could make you groan. you don’t sing as much as you used to back in high school, instead, you use up all your time to compose music and play the guitars for iu.

said idol is supposed to be having a comeback very soon, somewhere your boyfriend’s bandmate was also going to star— kim taehyung— and so work has been extra draining lately, with everyone trying to master every single detail and point.

“kook, stoooop”, you whine, burying your face in the soft pillow, waterfalls of hair obscuring your vision as you make a feeble attempt to wriggle out of jungkook’s grasp. but he is relentless. he rolls his eyes and manhandles you back into his arms, causing you to let out a small yelp as your back presses against his chest.

jungkook, himself, was tired as hell. while you were coming back at four in the morning, he was coming back at three, working equally hard as you. jungkook is always driven by his passions and he never hesitates to work hard for it, but despite that fact, this week has been particularly challenging, especially with the pressure of working on his own solo album. the lack of food and sleep was almost getting to him, leaving him irritable to the point where he almost snapped at the choreographer. although he apologized quickly, he noticed that he was in the mood where people pick up fights for no reason. he decided to just come back home and get some rest before something else could provoke him, but when he discovered you were at home as well, he couldn’t help but get clingy. after all, you guys haven’t properly talked for weeks.

and he missed you.

“c’mon, I can’t even see your face”, jungkook props himself up on his elbow, his breath gently fanning your face.

“we’ve already established the fact i’m pretty. let me sleep, kook.”

“aren’t pretty faces meant to be looked at?”

jungkook furrows his brows when he gets no answer from you. he blinks furiously to keep his own exhaustion at bay and studies your face to see if you’ve already drifted off to sleep. your eyes are closed, and he can feel the steady rhythm of your heart inside the hoodie of his that you’re wearing. he can also sense you’re not asleep though. not yet anyway.

“babeee”, jungkook lets out a high-pitched whimper and immediately yelps when you elbow him in the ribs but he isn’t sure which one strikes a nerve, the elbow or the words that follow.

“dude, would you please let me sleep? I am tired as fuck and I have to wake up early”, you grit your teeth in clear annoyance, not even bothering to open your eyes, “unlike some people”

jungkook feels a twinge of guilt, but he can also feel a surge of a new emotion. anger? before he can fully comprehend what is going on, inconsiderate words escape his mouth.

“so am I. but you don't see me complaining all the time.”

your eyes fly open. before you can fully discern their meaning of jungkook’s words, he moves away from you, retreating completely to his side of the bed and putting as much space between your bodies as possible. you use your last fragments of remaining energy to prop yourself up into a half-seated position to face him, but jungkook has already turned his back on you.

“what is that supposed to mean?”

silence.

“jungkook, what the hell was that supposed to mean?”

“go to sleep, okay?”, his quiet voice makes you falter and you immediately understand that he is angry. though for what, you don’t quite understand.

“jungkook, i’m sleepy, okay? and—”

“then sleep! no one’s stopping you now.”

“but you’re mad at me for being tired! how is that fair? i’ve been working like crazy—”

“geez, sorry for being unfair, ash”, sarcasm drips from jungkook’s voice and you don’t like that in the slightest, “I also have to wake up early, earlier than you in fact, so please let me sleep.”

an uncomfortable silence follows his sentence.

“alright”, you sigh and drop it after staring at his back for a few seconds. you don’t want to get into an argument now, not when both of you are on the verge of collapsing, prone to say things you don’t mean at all. you’d rather sleep and deal with it in the morning when both of you are well rested and not running on two hours of sleep and a shit ton of caffeine.

it’s not always you get to see this side of jungkook. anyone who knows him knows that the boy is crafted from starry skies and honeyed galaxies alone, always smiling a bit too easily and lighting everyone around him as bright as the evening star.

however, every time you see a crack at his easy, carefree demeanor, you can’t help but feel a sense of helplessness within. jungkook doesn’t get irritated often and certainly not easily, but when he does, his behavior takes a different turn. he doesn’t shout or scream or take his anger out on inanimate objects as you tend to do. instead, he completely shuts himself out of the world. every curt answer feels like a form of silent treatment, every word spoken laces itself with sarcasm, always hitting where it hurts the most. even though he never takes his anger out on you, you don’t like seeing him like this.

if you knew he would react like this, you would have given a little more effort to remain awake in his company. jungkook may be childish but he rarely behaves like this. and you’re just a simple girl, hopelessly in love with the boy who has his back turned to you.

“goodnight”, you draw closer to him and drape an arm around his waist hesitantly. when he doesn’t stir or reply, a dejected sigh escapes your lips. nonetheless, you tenderly wrap the blanket around him and nestle your face at the nape of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of fresh linen and mint.

despite the fatigue draping your limbs, despite jungkook starting to softly snore within minutes, it takes you an entire hour to fall asleep.

you let out yet another groan as memories from last night come flooding back into your mind. it has been like that all day, the memories coming and going as they pleased, striking you with a sense of disappointment every time they do. jungkook was already gone when you woke up in the morning and despite knowing he had an early schedule, you couldn't help but feel downhearted.

you immediately checked your phone back then, hoping to find a message from him but much to your disappointment, there was none. both you and jungkook had quite hectic schedules, but it became an unspoken agreement in the house to update each other about your days ever since you moved in together. jungkook would always leave little neon post-its on the fridge with messages— reminder to eat something before you get coffee!!! and call me after you wake up, let’s get lunch together??? — whenever he left the house before you were up and vice versa. soon, the post-its turned into text messages because it was always easier in the rush of the mornings. jungkook would always wake up to texts from you— before you get mad, I did kiss you before leaving but you wouldn’t budge— and he would instantly call you to check if your schedules aligned and if he could pick you up after work.

but having no text from jungkook this morning could mean only one thing.

he is still mad.

despite being agitated because of your lack of basic human activities, you pushed aside those emotions and called him immediately. you got more worried when jungkook didn’t pick the phone up because you knew he wasn’t one to hold petty grudges. you reluctantly dragged yourself out of bed then, brushing and getting ready to face the day. now that you’ve had gained a few hours of rest, you realized how tired jungkook looked last night. you could almost hear the constant grumbles from his stomach that pointed out how hungry he was. But he kept saying that he didn’t have the energy to eat. you could see the swollen eyelids and the purple hue outlining it more clearly, how he walked unsteadily as if he was drunk.

jungkook called you back while you were on your way to work. you weren’t really surprised but it still dissipated some of your nerves. he explained that his phone was on silent and he didn’t see your call but his voice still sounded distant and his responses were short. he also mentioned that he might not come home tonight, hoping to squeeze in some extra practice hours.

he didn’t call you once for the rest of the day.

very un-jungkook of him.

and you were too busy to call him.

it is nearly midnight now. you find yourself inside your car, driving through the dimly lit streets of seoul. despite the hour, the city is bustling, alive with people and emotions. driving through the city always puts you at ease; you hated crowds but you loved observing people, the multitudes of emotions they go through every moment, making every one so much different than another but still intricately woven within love and life.

after the long day, you yearned for the warmth and comfort of your bed, considering skipping the shower part because that’s how drained you were. you didn’t eat anything all day, something that has become a routine now, save for the apple you grabbed while leaving the house in the morning. minus the seven-something cups of coffee.

yet you find yourself driving in the direction of the hybe studios.

you’re almost near the building when a sudden realization makes you click your tongue in annoyance. should have gotten some flowers. why did I not think of that before?

you park your car and make your way inside the extravagant building. the staff knew you well by now, both from your days as a trainee and your frequent visits to your boyfriend and his bandmates. you ascend to the top floor of the establishment, going straight toward one of the empty practice rooms jungkook loves to use whenever he is rehearsing on his own.

pushing the door open, you enter the room. the space is slightly dark, only illuminated with neon purple lights, ridiculously confirming your boyfriend’s presence to you. call it jungkook being jungkook, but your boyfriend hates harsh lights. you don’t doubt that he would happily reside in the darkness for the rest of his life if he was asked to.

you spot jungkook in the farthest corner of the room— hybe practice rooms are scarily huge— a blur of black sweats and bobbing hair, vigorously throwing hooks and uppercuts at the gray punching bag hanging in front of him. even from a distance you can see that he is completely absorbed in his own world, a side of him that you have come to know well over the years. this jungkook is full of energy and passion. this jungkook is the golden maknae of bts, putting his heart and soul into whatever he was working on, squeezing every last drop of capability, and surpassing every single one of his limits every minute. this is the boy who keeps on giving birth to beauty, elegance, and unparalleled talent.

you didn’t like to disrupt jungkook’s concentration when he was working so you decide to sit silently until he noticed your himself. however, concern washes over you when you see the lack of gloves in his hand. instead, his hands are wrapped with gauze and tape as he mercilessly throws jabs at the punching bag, and you can notice the blood seeping through the rips of the cloth around his knuckles.

“are you trying to piss me off on purpose?”, you hiss softly, walking towards him and putting your palm on his shoulder so as not to scare him. but jungkook yelps in shock anyways, bambi eyes wide and startled like a deer caught in front of headlights.

“ash?”

“why are you not wearing gloves?”, you take his hands into your own, flinching when you get a good look at it. his knuckles were visible through the torn cloth, red and angry, blood seeping through the gashes on his skin.

“sorry—”, jungkook throws you a sheepish glance, recovering from the initial shock, “—when did you come here? wait, why are you here?”

“to kick your ass”, you say, exasperated, “seriously jungkook, how hard is it to wear a glove? you just take the damn thing and squeeze your hand insi—”

“I did! but then it tore somehow”

you scowled.

“it’s true! look! I threw it on the ground when it ripped. it’s still there!”

“then don’t punch so hard!”

“but I have to train!”, jungkook pouted, hoping his cute facial expression would calm you down. you scowled more.

you huff, releasing his hands and making your way toward the line of closets in the back of the room. it’s where the first aid kits are usually kept. you know every practice room in the entire building has one or two of these because this is where most of the accidents happens. you can sense jungkook’s gaze following you but he remains mute.

getting what you need, you take a seat on the furnished floor and pat it, urging jungkook to do the same. he falls silent once again, any surprise from your unexpected arrival which urged him to talk normally wore off and the tension was back.

jungkook complies and sits down in front of you. he takes a good few seconds to stare at your outstretched palms before sighing in defeat and offering you his hands when he notices your enraged glare. He doesn’t want to be on the receiving end of your rage. and doesn’t matter he says, he would be lying if he said his hands didn’t throb from the pain.

you carefully remove the white gauges from his hands, wincing when more blood oozes out. looking at red cuts and bruises across his skin almost physically pains you, but jungkook stays completely silent, eyes drinking you in. he recalls being mad at you but he can’t quite recall the reason. it’s not because he can't remember now, especially with you here, tending to his wounds in such a delicate manner that you fear you would hurt him. as if something as gentle as your touch could ever cause him harm. not because you look like you were put on this earth to solely heal his hands. and not because you showed up here unannounced. because he genuinely can’t remember what made him so mad at you last night, literally out of thin air, and now he feels embarrassed at his own immaturity.

he just couldn’t figure out how to approach you after being a total jerk.

weird how humans tend to hurt the ones they love the most, almost always for no particular reason at all.

you finish your work wordlessly, putting band-aids around his knuckles and ointment on the cuts peppering his fingers. letting his hands fall onto his lap, you gather the bloodied materials from the floor and rise up to throw them in the waste paper box. jungkook follows your suit, standing up cluelessly.

“you’re gonna start throwing punches again?”

“hmm? uh no— I think I will practice the choreographies now”

“okay”, you sigh.

jungkook looks like hell, you realize. his messy hair is messier than usual, sticking out wildly at all angles, eyes droopy and rimmed with circles darker than you remember seeing last night. sweat glistened on his hunched figure tired from the physical exertion, soaking his sweatshirt.

you know you look just as worn out as him. you can feel it by the way he looks at you.

“uh so— are you gonna drive ho—”

“come with me.”

jungkook’s eyes widen as you wrap your arms around his torso, hiding your head on his chest. while a sweaty jungkook usually makes you giggle out a gross and maneuver far away, you hug him with gentle ardor, more so than usual.

you just want him to come home tonight.

“ash, sweetheart, i’m sweating”, jungkook tries to pry himself away from you but you just hold him tighter.

“don’t care. please come home.”

jungkook goes limp in your clutch for a few seconds before he’s softly hugging you back. of course, he would go home if you wanted him to, you didn’t need to ask him twice. who the heck is he to deny you? always a prisoner to your wishes, always prisoner to your love, and gladly so. how could he not? he rests his chin on your head and sways your body from side to side in a rhythm.

“okay”

“really?”

“really.”

the drive back home was short.

you drove, as jungkook was all out of it. he didn’t have the physical and mental coordination to walk down the building to the car, how the boy was gonna rehearse overnight, you had no idea.

“whoops, babe how were you gonna dance?” you supported his weight leaning down on you while you were walking, steading yourself before both of you fell on the ground, one arm wrapped around his torso, his figure hunched and head resting on your neck.

“I can walk. I am just choosing not to since you’re here”, he flashed you a grin with his eyes closed.

after arriving home, jungkook went straight to the shower and for a few seconds, you contemplated joining him. however, recalling how jungkook’s grumbling tummy throughout the whole ride, made you change your decision. he mentioned that he didn’t eat anything fulfilling all day. that is why you told him to freshen up and made a beeline towards the kitchen to make some instant ramen, not very healthy but quick and easy, and always gratifying.

so here you are now, serving ramen into two bowls with the leftover kimchi you guys had in the fridge. sleepiness makes your eyelids droop and you feel like prying them open with scotch tapes.

like tom, you snort to yourself, from tom and jerry.

man, you loved that cartoon during your childhood.

after all these years, you still don’t know if you’re team tom or team jerry.

hearing a faint clicking sound, you turn around and see jungkook approaching you, shirtless and clad in sweatpants. the shower had done marvels because he looks as attractive as he always does, with the water dripping down his damp hair onto the well-defined muscles in his chest. feeling a blush creep in, you quickly avert your eyes.

both of you are tired enough without resorting to er— any other activities for the night.

“what are you doing in the kitchen?” jungkook stares at you with confused doe eyes.

“putting food on the table like the dutiful girlfriend I am.”

“pretty sure that’s wife material”, jungkook whispers as he works his way into your arms, tugging your waist flushed with his.

“kook, you need to dry your hair properly! you’ll catch a cold”, you scold him softly, feeling greasy when you see him so fresh and glowy. you card a hand through his locks, feeling it to be more sopping than it seemed. you break free from his grasp to grab a towel from the washroom, ignoring the loud protests.

“sit”, you command, gesturing for jungkook to sit on one of the stools lining the kitchen island. when he complies, you gently massage his head with the towel, squeezing every last drop of remaining water from his hair. jungkook prefers to air dry his hair when he is at home, allowing it to get some rest from all the heat and styling he has to do on a regular basis, but he also religiously manages to forget at least soaking the water out.

he grabs you closer by pulling your waist. you stand between his thighs and continue massaging his scalp while he muffles his face on your chest, desperately seeking your warmth and comfort. a smile stretches across your face watching jungkook moan in satisfaction.

“how are the hands?”

“mmm good. need to put more band-aids”, his voice comes out hoarse being squished in your chest, “you didn’t need to cook. I know you are tired.”

“but i’m hungry too”

“oh. let’s eat then! it smells so fucking good!”

and jungkook’s sudden burst of enthusiasm prompts a hearty laugh from you, endeared to your core, just as you always find yourself enamored by his every action.

“what. do you want. jeon jungkook.”

jungkook’s soft laughter echoes inside the room in response to the aggression in your tone. he pulls you closer to himself, wrapping an arm tightly around your torso once your back is secured against his chest. after finishing your meal, jungkook volunteered to clean the dishes while we waited for you to take a shower. now that both of you are clean and full, you find yourselves tangled together in bed once again; your usual routine, you trying to sleep and jungkook trying to keep you awake.

“I want you to eat well. I want you to sleep well. you. I want you. always you”, he presses his face in your hair, taking in the aroma of wood and wild berries.

“and I am sorry”, he adds quietly.

you stir when you hear his words, turning around in his hold to face him. you know what he is apologizing for.

“well, you should be.”

“I really am.”

“i'm kidding, kook. you don’t need to be sorry. you were tired and—”

“but see, that’s the thing! every time I tell you that i’m tired and just want to sleep, you make damn sure I get some actual rest but I—”, he gestures at himself, looking at you with utmost concentration, “start acting like a spoiled child when I don’t get absolutely one hundred percent of your attention.”

“can't really disagree with that.”

“hey!”

“your words, not mine!”, you let out a squeal as jungkook tries to tickle you, holding him tighter in an attempt to make him stop, “love, that’s a part of you. and I adore that. that you feel comfortable enough to get mad at me for nothing. I don’t want you all smiley and cheery, without the bad things. I love you. and I want you as... you.”

“however annoying you may be”, you add as an afterthought.

jungkook scrunches his nose, “I am pretty annoying from time to time, aren’t I?”

“oh boy, you have no idea.”

“wow. am I imagining things or does everyone feel like you’re in a mood to constantly attack me tonight?”, he hugs you tighter if possible, shrugging, “my fault for loving you so much, I guess.”

“well, I am very lovable.”

“...oh boy, you have no idea.”

264 notes · View notes

sageandravens · 10 months

Text

Patience - Something

Summary: Bucky and Sunshine’s first meeting

Featuring: Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, and Tony Stark

Word count: 1997

Warnings: Bucky being self deprecating. Tony being smug ass.

This was it. This is where all the hard work you’ve completed led you. All the sacrifices you’ve made to reach your goal has finally brought you to were you wanted to be in your career. Your background in Special Forces Night Stalkers Unit and your time in the CIA had caught the eye of Nick Fury, after all the constant training and tests and interviews, you found yourself staring at the grand building that was the Avengers compound. Pride swelling within your chest, this one achievement outshining all the others you have accomplished in the past.

To say that you were eager was an understatement. Your body vibrated with unrestrained excitement about meeting the people responsible for saving the world. People you had admired for their accomplishments. People you get to call your coworkers and maybe one day, your friends.

You carried on, practically skipping your way to the entrance of the building. Reaching the entrance, you smoothed your hands down the yellow knee length pencil skirt and adjusted your white blouse of the imaginary wrinkles that the nerves in your mind believed were there. With one last tug of your skirt, you plastered on a smile and walked to reception.

The receptionist had you sit on a nearby bench as she called to inform of your arrival. You smiled and greeted at whoever glanced your way and chatted with the receptionist in between her calls, your politeness helping you to pass the time.

“So, you’re the new recruit?” An amused voice snapped you out of your conversation with the receptionist. Looking to your left your eyes widened as they landed on Tony Stark himself.

“Mr. Stark! You’re leading my orientation?” You mentally slapped yourself as you straightened your posture. “I mean, yes, yes I’m the new recruit.” You offered your hand to the billionaire, internally holding back your excitement.

Ironman! Oh my god, oh my GOD.

“When I went over your file, I didn’t expect someone who was the personification of puppies and rainbows.” Stark stated. You quirked a brow at him.

“I was observing you from our security system on my way here.” He shrugged like it was no big deal for him.

“Ok, Bubbles. Let’s get this show on the road.” You grinned back at him, following his lead as he explained the workings of the compound and the work you will be doing within its walls. The whole time absorbing all the information that he spewed, asking questions, and matching him snark for snark.

Tony gave you a very grandiose tour of the facility, which you didn’t expect anything less considering his reputation. He showed you the gym, the dining facilities, the offices and the briefing rooms in the compound. Along the way, he had introduced you to some of the Avengers that you will be working closely with.

You hit it off immediately with Steve, who had congratulated you on joining the team and looked forward to working on missions with you in the future. You beamed at his praise and thanked him for being so welcoming.

Natasha took a little longer to warm up to you. Upon introductions she had stared you down while giving you a once over, making you feel as if she was trying to seek out anything that made you suspicious. She stepped back giving a nod to Tony.

“She’s good, welcome to the team.” You blinked at the abruptness of her departure, watching her as she walked down the hallway.

“You’ll get used to that, Bubbles.”

You and Tony continued on your tour, listening as Tony explained your moving in process. He lead you down another hallway with less foot traffic, you looked around at the various decorative art pieces along the walls, glittering light caught your eye, focusing on its source you saw it reflecting off a tall, muscular man ahead of you.

Reflecting off his metal arm. His very recognizable metal arm.

“Is that who I think it is?” You ask, catching Tony’s attention. He looked in your line sight and raised a brow.

“The arm doesn’t give it away?” You rolled your eyes at Stark. “I’ll introduce you, just don’t expect a warm welcome. He’s still a little frosty.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The metallic clang of the weights echoed throughout the gym. Sounds of grunts and bodies hitting the floor mats as agents trained and worked out all around the gym. It was almost mid morning by the time Bucky finally decided to put the weights down, having been in the compounds gym since five in the morning. Another night where a nightmare has plagued his already battered mind, usually, a couple of hours in the gym calmed him down but this particular nightmare he couldn’t seem to shake off.

The screams of the victims. His victims, still echoed in his mind, their horrified faces and their blood that he spilled was a slide show on repeat. The frown on his face deepened, matching the aggravated look on his face.

Frustated, he placed the weights back on the rack with a grunt. Pushing back the lose strands of his hair that escaped from his low bun away from his face he looked around, taking in all the agents around him. It was getting too crowded for his liking, and his anxiety wasn’t letting up, he gathered his items and trudged back to his room within the compound. Hoping a hot shower would ease his frazzled mind.

Bucky stomped through the halls, ignoring the way the agents and other employees quickly moved out of his way with worried looks. He knew they feared him, fearing that he would snap back into his Winter Soldier persona. Worried that whatever deprogramming they did in Wakanda didn’t actually work.

They should fear me. They’d be dumb if they didn’t. His face turned darker at the thought. He continued down the hall towards the elevator reserved for the Avengers that lead to the residential floor. The promise of a long, hot shower to process his racing thoughts and wash away the sweat from his extended workout this morning within a short distance. The hope of finally being away from lingering fearful stares and hushed whispers only an elevator ride away. He placed his hand upon the scanner built into the wall, waiting patiently for elevator to make its descent.

“Hey, Manchurian Canidate!” Bucky groaned at the sound of the irksome nickname. He silently prayed that the elevator doors would open at that second to make his escape. The frown on his face getting even deeper as he realized that his need to be alone was disappearing the closer as they footsteps approached him. Turning around, Bucky accepted his fate, hoping that his post workout odor makes this impending conversation short. Bucky was not in a mood for Starks antics today, or any day at all, really.

“Whoa, you are ripe! You know there are showers in the gym right?” Bucky rolled his eyes and grunted a response. The ding of the elevator announced the arrival of his belated escape plan, turning back around when Bucky entered the elevator and much to his annoyance Tony followed. The movement of someone clad in bright yellow caught his attention, tilting his head up, his eyes focused on the young woman standing next to Stark.

“Oh, by the way.” Tony passively gestures towards you. “This is Y/N. Our new recruit, former sergeant first class. She outranks you.” He added smugly.

Bucky refused to take the bait, giving Tony another short grunt, not even bothering to look at him. You looked at Bucky, noticing the dark circles under his eyes, the sweat clinging to his brow, evidence of his strenuous workout. But, you noticed something behind his blue eyes that spoke of something darker, an emotion that seems to plague him.

“Hi. It’s nice to meet you!” Your peppy voice rang in his ears. The joyfulness of your tone making him wince. He glanced back at you, your (y/e/c) eyes bright matching the smile that graced your lips, your hand reaching past Stark waiting for him to grasp it. Bucky just stared at it.

“Oh, well, I look forward to working with you and the others.” You say, the pep in your voice never faltered. You brought your hand back to your side, you had hoped that being your usually bright self, you would come off as a potential friend to Bucky and break the grumpy exterior Tony warned you about. No luck, not letting Bucky’s rebuff of your greeting bother you. Bucky’s eyes landed on your face once more giving you a confused look.

“I’m excited to learn how you and the rest of the team work together quickly. I know my skills will be of great use to you all. Maybe we’ll be paired up for a mission some time?” His lack of words made you want to fill the silence between you. You were alright with that, you understood that some people weren’t the talking type. Bucky’s stare made you continue on with your rambling.

“Since you know, we both have military experience. I think we would pair well with each other.” You smiled brightly once again.

Bucky continued to stare at you. Completely, blindsided that you continued to look him in the eye and talk to him without fear and worry. Did you not know who he was? Are you confusing him with someone else? Bucky shifted his gym bag on his shoulder, his grip on the strap making the mechanics of his metal arm begin to whir.

Well, if she doesn’t know who I am, she does now. Bucky frowned again.

Stark looked on between you and the living statue that was Bucky, getting some amusement from the completely polar opposite personalities in front of him. He watched on as you continued on with the one sided conversation. Smirking to himself as he watched Bucky become increasingly uncomfortable.

Ding!

Bucky let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as the elevator doors opened. He readjusted his bag, and quickly left, leaving you and Tony in the dust without so much as a goodbye. You watched as he walked away, the tension still present in his shoulders making you frown. He walked with a heaviness, a weight of bottled up emotions and dark thoughts. You recognized that stance, you’ve seen it with some of the soldiers that were under your command after grueling missions.

“Told ya he was still frosty.” Tony placed his hand upon your back guiding you out of the elevator to finish the tour of the compound.

“He’ll warm up to me, I’m sure.” You smiled at Tony with confidence.

“Hope you’re up for a challenge,”

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Later that day Bucky exited his room. Refreshed and gym odor free from his long hot shower. It eased his mind somewhat, pushing back his memories enough to not be distracting. He walked to the communal kitchen of the residential floor, his stomach begging for some leftovers from the night before. Popping in a plate of some leftover fettuccine into the microwave, he leaned against the counter waiting for the time to go off.

Steve sat at the kitchen island across from him, with a cup of coffee in his hand looking at the file in front of him. He glanced over at the file that had his best friend so intrigued. He noticed that it was your file.

“Have you met the new recruit yet?” Steve asked him.

“Yup.” Bucky replied, popping the P. Steve continued to flip through your file, feeling impressed more and more with all of your achievements.

“She’s something, isn’t she?” Steve started with with awe.

Bucky thought of your bright smile, your relaxed and bright presence. He thought of you carrying on introducing yourself, never stopping even if he was not responding. But what he thought of the most was how you didn’t have fear in your eyes.

“Yeah, she’s something.”

#bucky barnes #winter soldier #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #james bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky fic #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader #marvel

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sunnys-out · 6 months

Text

Your damn cherry chapstick | Alex Morgan

a/n: from this prompt list. Let's pretend that voicemails can actually be this long lol.

Prompt Request: 10. I still remember how you taste...

Warnings: Implied Smut, MDNI, cursing, alcohol

Word Count: 573

Part 2 here

You have one new message

“God, I shouldn't even be doing this, fuck, how long since we talked talked?... I shouldn’t have had that stupid fucking wine... Fuck, like it matters, you probably are going to delete this once you see it’s from me…I’m not here to say congrats on marrying Servando…nah you know that’s not very me.”

Pause

“I regret introducing you to Servando, I really do…I would’ve been the one dancing with you at that Gala. I was just sitting there drinking away at that cheap ass, champagne they gave us and overlooking the campus while you were having the time of your life.”

Pause

“Funny, he looked so happy having you in his arms that day when not even hours before I was in between your legs, Morgan. I thought I had you back completely but you broke up whatever we had and went running to him once we got to the end of the year Gala for Cal Soccer”

Pause

“Do you remember that last time? You showed up at my apartment after skipping your Philosophy lecture wanting to “see me again” after ignoring me for weeks because you were with Servando. Hell, talking lasted 6 minutes before you pushed me against the wall begging me to kiss you…”

“I still remember how you taste, Alex…even the taste of your damn, cherry, chapstick. The sounds you made for me then are ingrained in my head...God, I’ll never forget. The way that it was all because of me and I was the only one who could make you feel that way… you said it yourself. Fuck, I wouldn’t have let you go that morning if I had known it was the last time; maybe things would have been different.”

Pause

“Nah, you knew what you were doing. It was just a fucking goodbye, wasn’t it? Got my hopes up and just broke it the moment you saw Servando?!? Fuck, Alex, you know what, I’m glad I had that career-ending injury in Portland, I saved myself all that time pining over you, wishing to have your back…”

Pause

“That sounded pathetic of me…’I still remember how you taste, Alex’ like that isn't the sound of pining over someone. Hell, you wouldn’t have said the same for me maybe because I didn’t let you…I was just happy tasting you and having you all to myself.”

Pause

“You know Servando actually texted me asking me if I wanted to be invited to the wedding. Said that I slipped through the cracks in planning…Funny, wonder if that was intentional on your part, babe. Afraid that you’ll leave Servando immediately if you see me. I mean you did that but to me back all those years ago…why wouldn’t you do it again?”...Anyways, Sev, pushed the idea that I give a speech of how I introduced you two…I declined of course…said I was busy.

Pause

“Is it cocky for me to assume I was the best you ever have? Probably… Anyways good luck on this marriage thing. Tell Servando that his ass should be happy that I introduced him to “the love of his life”. I hope you remember me the way that I remember you, I love you Alex Morgan, I’ve always had…it’d be ironic if I said don’t be a stranger because you do that all on your own…”

“Don’t you dare text me…I swear to God, Alex Morgan”

End of Message

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #alex morgan x reader #alex morgan imagine

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aboutnavi · 1 year

Text

One of the things that pisses me off so much about AFTG relationships is whatever the fuck Nora decided to do with Kevin and Thea. For one, let’s start with the big elephant in the room shall we: Kevin was fourteen and Thea was eighteen when they met each other. Kevin was literally a child and Thea was not. When they slept together for the first time Kevin is - presumably - eighteen (Nora only said it was his first year at EAU) and Thea was twenty two/three and it was in front of everyone. We know the Raven’s mindset is fucked up at best but seriously… in front of the entire team? They never talked about themselves in a normal-relationship way when they were at Evermore. According to Nora, “Thea’s last words to Kevin–until she showed up at Fox Tower in TKM–were to get some more practice in with the girls so he’d be ready for her when he graduated.” Be for real… this isn’t normal. But let’s pretend we can put all of this under the “they are Ravens and Ravens knows no boundaries and never had any normal human interaction in their lives” belt.

Let’s do a time skip. Riko breaks Kevin’s hand and Kevin leaves EAU. He spends a year at PSU not playing and not once he reached Thea. Understandable because he was still afraid. Then he starts playing again, still doesn’t reach her. She found out about all of this - broken hand, leaving the Ravens, playing again - through the media. Then, she shows up at PSU out of nowhere and almost doesn’t give a chance for Kevin to explain himself. Except Kevin explain - at best he can, considering he couldn’t put her in danger at the moment - but still she saw how Jean was and she knew what Riko was capable off, right? WRONG. Because Nora goes on to say the worst thing possible about their future:

Be fucking for real. You telling me you saw your teammate an inch from death, saw that the supposed love of your life had his career almost destroyed - and Thea and Kevin got married, so she is aware of the amount of trauma Kevin carry from being raised with Riko at EAU - and still the hate edges off because “after all, Kevin’s playing again, so no harm no foul, right?” ???? Are we seeing this? As a fandom, are we collectively seeing this?

“But Kevin needs someone who can keep up with him and with his obsession with Exy”. Ok, but I’m pretty sure there are other women besides Thea playing Exy that would be able to keep up with Kevin and still have an ounce of sensitivity in their bodies.

Now my only logical explanation to this, which is where I always go back to is that Thea and Kevin weren’t supposed to happen if Nora had planned AFTG like a normal writer should. We know she wrote a thousand versions of AFTG - even versions where Kevin dies or where Kevin/Andrew/Neil were together - before publishing as a book and we know she had so many versions inside her head she made the books a fucking mess but there is no way someone didn’t warned her about this absolutely fuckery of a relationship. I can’t believe we as a fandom bought into this and still reinforce it as a hc.

Also, do we really think Thea helped Kevin navigate his trauma after TKM? During their lives? This is so incredibly unfair because Kevin deserved someone who could help him heal himself and understand life outside of Exy but no, Nora really had to give us/him this mess.

I needed to vent a little, anyway…

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heehoonieluvs · 10 months

Text

I forgot

Heeseung x reader

Angst, fluff, smut

The way that the members are depicted in this story has nothing to do with how they really are or how I feel they are. It is all solely for the storyline so please bear that in mind 🫶

Summary: Y/N had been waiting her entire career for this moment but her loving bf Heeseung is no where to be seen

F/N = female name

Warnings: MDNI, cursing, oral (f receiving), ass play (f receiving), squirting, daddy kink, use of pet names (please do let me know if I need to add more warnings 🤍)

Masterlist

Y/N POV:

Tonight was the most important day for my career and it was only an hour till I had to arrive at the venue. All of these years that I had spent chasing my dream was finally going pay off. I was so excited yet nervous to show my friends and family what I had worked so hard for but I was especially excited to spend tonight with my amazing boyfriend Heeseung who had been nothing but supportive of my journey throughout our relationship. He had only just come back from tour a few days ago but he had been in and out due to his busy schedules as he had also just released his first ever collab with F/N.

I checked my watch once again. Why isn't he here yet? He hasn't texted or called at all today. Is he okay? I texted him again but got no response. I felt so upset and hurt that he hadn't even bothered to tell me what was happening even though he knew how much I was looking forward to tonight. Maybe he forgot? No he couldn’t have…

Just then, I got a text from my manager saying that my ride was waiting outside for me. I sighed and left, hoping that he was just late and would turn up to the event later.

Time skip

I looked around the venue, searching to see if Heeseung turned up. My manager said that there was no sign of him and he had not been responding to any of her messages. At this point I started to get pissed off. All these years that we had been together, I was there for him for everything. If he needed me there, I was there. No matter how big or how small the event, I was there. The one day I needed him there for me, he didn’t bother to turn up. I fought back the stinging tears that had threatened to fall and put on a smile as the awards started.

When the host announced my name, I felt an overwhelming amount of happiness inside of me. I gave my speech, thanking people that had helped me through everything. Just then the thought of Heeseung came up, reminding me that he had never turned up to witness this moment. I wrapped up my speech and quickly returned to my seat where I could see my manager and colleagues coming up to me. They all congratulated me and returned to their designated places, leaving me with my manager. I could tell that she knew what I was thinking and gave me a sympathetic smile.

"I know you're hurt that Heeseung isn't here, but just remember how strong you are and now you can show everyone that doubted you just how amazing you are."

"Thank you so much. I guess I just feel more disappointed at the fact that he never bothered to tell me what was going on."

"I know sweetie but he may have his reasons. Just live in the moment now and don’t let this tamper your special night"

I smiled at her feeling slightly better as a brushed aside the horrible feeling in my guts.

Time skip

I slammed the door shut and threw off my heels and jacket. Still no sign of Heeseung and it was way past the time that he usually came back. I shuffled my way towards the kitchen and went on my phone.

I scrolled through my social media accounts to kill time till he came back. Just then, I saw a news article from a few minutes ago saying LEE HEESEUNG AND F/N SPOTTED KISSING AT A PARTY. I opened the link, dreading whatever was about to pop up. The photos that came up gave me a shock as I looked at them. There were photos of them holding hands, cuddling, enjoying their time with their team. The last ones shocked me the most of them looking like they were kissing behind a tall plant and another with them on a balcony, supporting a shirtless Heeseung. Tears welled up in my eyes as I read through the blog. All this time I had spent worrying about him ended up being because he was spending time snuggling up with F/N. After F/N and her boyfriend had broken up days before, I had noticed that Heeseung had been going out more. I had never doubted Heeseung and I's relationship but this just made me feel betrayed, especially since he had missed today for it. I didn't want to believe that he had been cheating as I knew that he and F/N weren't the type of people to do such thing, so I shut off my phone and put on a film to gather my thoughts and think of how I’d confront him.

As soon as my eyes started to droop, I heard the familiar jingle of keys coming from the front door. Knowing who was on the other side, I ignored it and carried on watching the tv. When he walked in and spotted me, his entire face lifted, almost making me forget about how upset I was with him. He came over to me with open arms completely oblivious to the current situation.

"Baby! I missed you so much" he said as he came towards me, leaning in for a kiss.

When I saw it coming I moved away from him, leaving him confused as to why I was acting so cold towards him.

"What's the matter baby? Did I do something wrong?". He asked so many questions but I rolled my eyes and turned towards the screen.

"Babe, why are you dressed like that? Are you going out?"

If looks could kill, he was sure that he’d be 6 feet under right now. It took a second for the realisation to kick in before his face filled with guilt.

"Oh my god baby I'm so sorry. I-I completely forgot" he stuttered "I know nothing that I'll do or say can make up for this but I really did not realise. Please let me make it up to you?"

"Are you serious right now Heeseung? I cannot believe you" I shouted.

A flash of hurt came on his face as I said his name. I never called him that unless something was really wrong. He knew that this wasn't gonna be as easy as it usually is. He couldn't think of anything to say as all he wanted was to make his baby feel happy again. To see her beautiful face light up with her precious smile.

"You knew how much this day meant for me. I have always found a way to turn up to your events no matter what to support you yet the one time I wanted you here for me, you didn't even bother. I feel like I'm never important to you and I'm not even in the top 10 of your priorities. I don’t want to sound selfish but not once have I ever asked for anything in return yet you completely forget about my existence." I said with so much hurt in my voice. It made Heeseung’s heart hurt even more hearing it.

"Baby, please. Of course you're important to me. You're the most important thing in my entire life, don't ever say that you are any less. I know that I forgot about today and I'm an absolute idiot for not remembering but don't think that I don't care about you because that is not true at all."

I scoffed "Really? Because it doesn't seem that way since you've spent the day snuggling with F/N"

A look of confusion came upon his face once again "What do you mean?"

"Are you serious? I'm not stupid. I saw those pictures of you two together so don't start acting like you're so oblivious to this whole situation."

"Baby it wasn't what it looked like." He said panicking. He knew that there were photos taken but he didn't want people to take it the wrong way. He loved you more than anything and the photos taken manipulated what people saw to made it look a lot worse than it really was.

"That's what they all say Heeseung" I whispered, lowering my gaze towards my fidgeting fingers.

He sighed “Baby I know how those photos may have looked but I promise you, we only hugged once and it was after F/N’s manager made a toast to congratulate us on our collab.”

In a way I could understand that the whole purpose of the news article was to stir drama but it still didn’t explain everything.

“Okay. So how come this gathering just happened to be on the very night that you knew would happen for months? How come you were shirtless around F/N looking all cozy and shit.” All of the thoughts that had clouded my brain just spilled out my mouth like word vomit.

Heeseung had all the answers to your questions and was willing to explain everything to you. He already knew he was walking on eggshells and needed you to understand that he could never betray you in any way.

“I know I know princess, I should’ve remembered to keep this day free but it was a surprise set up by both F/N and my managers and they took me straight from dance practice. As for me being shirtless, I had just been pushed into the pool and was waiting for my shirt to dry. I know this all sounds like I’m just trying to make excuses but I promise bubba, everything that was shown in that news article was taken completely out of context.”

“And what about the two of you apparently kissing then?”

“Y/N I swear on Ddongsik that pic is absolutely bullshit. We were just having a conversation but it was taken from a weird angle.”

“Excuse me. Don’t bring my baby into this, he has no part in our drama.”

Heeseung chuckled “Ok I’m sorry princess but that’s the only way I can prove to you that everything I’m telling you is the truth.”

“I don’t know Heeseung. It’s just really hard for my to believe after you’ve been out so often and barely sparing me a glance whenever we have a bit of time together”

I could feel his soft fingers lift my chin up to look at him as he pressed his lips on mine. His love radiating, slightly melting the cold facade that I was putting up.

"No baby, you don't understand. Nothing happened between F/N and I, you can ask Jake. I just wanted to make sure that she was okay as she had been going through a rough time with the break up and all. I didn’t mean for it to seem like I was abandoning you but we’ve all been on alert since F/N didn’t seem like she had taken her break up well"

"I guess that makes sense and I trust you two. But with all of this and the recent comeback, I just can't help but feel insecure when everywhere I go, it's plastered with you guys."

"I'm so sorry baby. I know that's it's been hard for you but trust me when I say that I only want you. You're the one who I want to marry, have kids with and spend the rest of my life with. I can't see that with anyone else. I've been such a horrible boyfriend and I don't deserve an angel like you."

Seeing how distraught he was, I couldn’t help but reach out and embrace him

"Baby don't say that, you're the best boyfriend I could ever ask for."

"No, I missed the most important day of my princess’s career and made her upset. I cannot blame you for being mad at me. If I saw pictures of you with another guy, I’d be so pissed and I never wanna see my baby looking at another man with those gorgeous eyes. I cannot express in words how apologetic I am but I'm so sorry and I'll say it over and over again if it means that you'll forgive me"

"Baby you don't need to. I forgive you okay." I replied, leaning in to give him a soft kiss. As I moved back, he whined chasing my lips.

"One more please?" He begged

I giggled, making him smile so bright and leaned in for another kiss. Unlike before, Heeseung was more handsy, caressing every fibre of my body that he could reach. He slipped his tongue out to trace my bottom lip, silently asking permission for me to open my mouth. However, I decided to tease him and keep my mouth shut which caused him to whine and pull me closer. He then grabbed me by my waist and pulled me till I straddled his lap. He then reached down and grabbed a handful of my ass, causing me to gasp and give him enough time to sneak his tongue into my mouth. Our tongues caressed each others making us moan. He sucked on my tongue and groaned as I grinded onto his dick.

"Fuck baby." He moaned "You're making me so fucking hard right now. No one can ever make me feel like this. Only you princess."

He moved his mouth to my neck and sucked on my sweet spot, making me moan his name.

"God baby, say my name like that again" He said as he rubbed my clit through the lace of my thong.

I moaned his name over and over again as his started to rub even harder and faster.

"That's right baby. That's my good babygirl"

He lifted my dress over my head, leaving me in my black lace thong. Grabbing my boobs he leaned in and sucked on my nipples as he pulled my thong aside and rubbed my clit, rolling it between his fingers.

"Oh my god baby that feels so good" I moaned into his ear.

Then I could feel his finger entering my pussy and he started to pump it in and out.

"That's right babygirl. You're dripping all over daddy's fingers aren't you? You're such a good girl."

He carried on fingering me as he whispered sweet nothings into my ear. His palm rubbed on my clit every time he pumped his fingers.

"Climb up baby, I want your juicy pussy to drip on my mouth. Let daddy have a taste" he said whilst licking his lips.

I climbed up and hovered over his face, letting him marvel at the sight of my juices dripping out from my pussy.

"That's it princess, give that juicy pussy to daddy. I wanna drink up every bit of you" he growled as he reached up for your ass to pull you down.

Being the tease that I was, I shimmied down slowly, taunting him, causing him to whine and try to stretch his neck to reach it.

"Come on princess, let daddy make you feel good"

As I lowered my pussy onto his mouth, he quickly grabbed my thighs, forcing me to grind my pussy onto his face. The vibrations of his moans went to my pussy causing me to grind down harder onto his tongue and let it fuck me deeper. He ate my pussy like a starved man shaking his head to get deeper. The pleasure was too much and I tried to get up a bit to let him breathe but he growled like a wild animal and pulled me back down to his greedy mouth.

“Don’t even think about moving away from me beautiful.”

He then started to move to my clit to suck and lick over it and move back to bury his tongue in my pussy. He repeated the process until I felt myself getting closer.

"Oh daddy I'm gonna cum. Please let me come."

"Yes that's it baby. Come in daddy's mouth" he growled. He brought his fingers up and started fingering me. He curled his fingers and started hitting my g spot. I moaned so loud, addicted to the pleasure that he was giving me. "Come on princess, you know what daddy wants you to do. Squirt your delicious juices everywhere. Soak daddy's face, I wanna drink you up."

He carried on fingering my g spot as his sucked hard on my clit. Then I felt an overwhelming feeling of pleasure as I squirted all over his face. He moaned as he sucked on my pussy, lapping up my juices. I carried on grinding on his face to ride out my orgasm as he greedily carried on eating me out.

"More baby. I wanna take all of it. Give it to me."

I whined as I felt my pussy getting sensitive. "But daddy, let me make you feel good. I wanna suck your dick."

"No baby" he responded "tonight is about you. I want you to come all over my face till you can't take it anymore and you're begging for me to stop."

"Please daddy? Just a little taste?" I asked in my cutest voice with the most adorable pout that I could muster.

But as much as Heeseung wanted to fuck your cute little mouth, he wanted to taste you all night and not stop. He was so addicted to you and needed to have your taste on his mouth.

"Daddy said no princess. Another time. Now let me eat your pussy again". And with that he pulled me down so my shoulders were on his lap and my legs were over his shoulders.

His face hovered over my pussy and he looked greedily like a predator waiting to pounce on its prey. He observed the way my pussy glistened and how it clenched tightly from the intensity of the previous orgasm. He also observed how my asshole looked so inviting, tempting him to have a taste. He they dived in with his tongue and once again started tongue fucking my pussy. The new position caused so much more pleasure, making my eyes roll back. As he shook his head and sucked my clit, he looked at me with so much love and lust. We held our gaze as he stopped and moved back. I was about to complain but stopped and gasped when he stuck his tongue out and dipped it into my asshole. As he fucked his tongue in my puckered hole deeper, I could feel it wriggle inside me, making me moan even louder. I could feel him smile as he ate my ass out. If that wasn't enough he started to nod his head as he licked all the way from my ass to my clit over and over again. He did that for a while and went back to tongue fucking my ass. He could see my pussy clenching as I tried to hold back my orgasm but he wasn't having it. So he brought his hand up and started to rub my clit fast as his other kept me balance and close to his talented mouth. I carried on screaming, not caring if others could hear. Heeseung was so turned on and was desperate to taste you again.

"Come on baby. That's it. Squirt for daddy again. Yes. Yes. YES!" He screamed as you showered his face. At once he drank up your juice, not letting any go to waste. He held you close as he buried his face, not wanting you to get away from him. "God princess, you're so fucking sexy, squirting on daddy's face. Are you okay?"

My heart melted at his concern wondering how he could be so perfect "Yes daddy"

He let me down so I could sit on his lap as he held me like a baby, his baby. As he stroked my back, he littered my face with tiny pecks, causing me to giggle. I buried my face into his neck whilst he hummed into my ear.

"I really am sorry baby. If I have to I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you" he whispered in my ear.

I looked up to him and kissed his pouting lips "No need to baby, it's over and done with now. I love you"

"I love you too baby"

…

"So can I suck your dick now daddy" I asked in a cute voice, looking at him like a puppy.

He grinned back at me "You're gonna be the death of me you cheeky little monster"

Let's just say that I got a lot more than I bargained for that night... or maybe week 😏😉

Author’s note: Thank you so much for taking the time to read my ff, I hope you enjoyed it. I know this is quite all over the place in terms of who’s speaking but I’m aware that my writing isn’t the greatest 😅 please look forward to more works in the future and don’t be afraid to give me some “inspiration” for future smut and for which members 🤭

#heehoonieluvs #enhypen smut imagines #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen oneshots #enhypen angst #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #heeseung smut #heeseung x reader #heeseung oneshots #heeseung angst #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung hard hours

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blackgirlsrxck · 1 year

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The Other Woman

Summary: Y/n and Charles find themselves in a sticky situation

Note: This is no hate to Queen Charlotte. I love her but I just kept thinking about writing this.

I never thought I’d fall for a race car driver. I mean, I’ve always been into sports, but Formula One was never really my thing. That all changed when I met him.

It started innocently enough. I was covering the Monaco Grand Prix as a journalist, and I needed a quote from Charles for my article. He was happy to oblige, and we struck up a conversation that lasted far longer than I expected. We talked about everything from his racing career to our favorite books. It was easy to talk to him, and I found myself getting lost in his bright green eyes.

From that moment on, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I started watching every race, cheering him on from the sidelines. I even went to a few after-parties, hoping to run into him. And I did.

It was at a party in Milan, and he was there with his girlfriend, Charlotte. They looked so happy together, and I felt a pang of jealousy in my chest. I tried to ignore it and focus on having a good time, but every time I caught a glimpse of him, my heart skipped a beat.

After that night, I tried to avoid him. It was too hard to be around him and not be able to have him. But fate had other plans.

I was covering a race in Singapore, and I ended up sitting next to him at a press conference. I could feel the heat radiating off his body, and I tried to focus on the questions, but all I could think about was how badly I wanted to kiss him.

As the press conference ended, he turned to me and smiled. “Hey, do you want to grab a drink later?” he asked.

I couldn’t say no. We ended up at a rooftop bar overlooking the city, sipping cocktails and laughing about everything and nothing. I felt alive in a way I hadn’t in years. It was like we were the only two people in the world.

But as the night went on, I couldn’t ignore the fact that he was still with Charlotte. I didn’t want to be the other woman, the one he cheated on his girlfriend with. So I said goodbye and left, trying to ignore the tears in my eyes.

We continued to see each other at races and events, always flirting and laughing, but never crossing that line. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t help how I felt.

One night, after a particularly grueling race in Japan, Charles showed up at my hotel room. He looked tired and worn out, but his eyes lit up when he saw me. We talked for a while, and then he leaned in to kiss me.

It was electric, like nothing I’d ever felt before. But as much as I wanted to give in to the moment, I couldn’t. “I can’t do this,” I said, pushing him away. “You’re still with Charlotte.”

“I know,” he said, looking crestfallen. “But I can’t help the way I feel.”

I felt the same way. I was head over heels in love with him, but I knew we couldn’t be together. It was like something out of a Taylor Swift song, all the love we had but couldn't act on.

We continued to see each other secretly, stealing moments whenever we could. It was thrilling and terrifying all at once. I knew it couldn’t last forever, but I couldn’t bring myself to end it.

One day, I got a call from Charles. He sounded panicked, and I could tell something was wrong. “Charolette found out,” he said, his voice shaking. “She knows about us.”

I felt sick to my stomach. What have I done?

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #f1 x female driver #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you

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storiesforallfandoms · 1 year

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may the best artist win ~ eminem

word count: 1754

request?: yes!

@thatonegirlthatlikesthings “Helllloooo I’ve been all in your page recently and I absolutely love your eminem stories I was wondering if I could request one with him and reader where she’s also a singer and they’re up for the same award and they make a bet between them where whoever wins gets to do whatever to other a little smut

I love you and your writing HAPPY HOLIDAYS 🤟🏽😭😭❤️❤️”

description: in which they both get nominated for the same award and decide to make it a game between them

pairing: eminem x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (oral, fem receiving, a little degrading but only like one mention)

masterlist (one, two)

Marshall had made it very clear throughout his career what his thoughts on the Grammy’s were. He vowed he would never return to the Grammy’s ceremony, even if he was nominated.

But then you were nominated for Song of the Year at the same time that he was. It was your first time being nominated for a big award show like that, so obviously you were excited. It excited you even more because Marshall was nominated for the same award and you liked the idea of potentially beating him after being nominated for the first time.

“There’s eight other nominees, honey, there’s no guarantee either of us will win,” he reminded you.

“You’re ruining the fun of my fantasy,” you teased. “I want to win my first Grammy after being nominated against my boyfriend. It would bring me so much satisfaction.”

Marshall raised an eyebrow at you. “Oh yeah? Want to place a bet on that?”

His question sparked your interest. “What kind of bet are we talking here?”

“If I win, you blow me in the car ride home.”

You were used to Marshall being very forward about anything sex wise, but it still took you by surprise sometimes. This was one of those times. For some reason, you didn’t expect his terms to the bet to be so outright sexual.

You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow. “And what do I get if I win?”

“That’s up to you to decide.”

You took a moment to consider it. If Marshall was going dirty with his, then you wanted to go dirty with yours too. And you wanted it to be just as naughty as him wanting road head on the way home from the award show.

“Okay,” you said. “If I win, you go down on me in the bathroom at the arena.”

He seemed impressed with your decision. “Really? That one is a bit dangerous to try. Are you sure it’s what you want?”

“What, are you scared to do it because you know I’ll win?”

He took hold of your hand and gave it a shake. “You have a deal.”

The night of the Grammy’s came quicker than you expected. As usual, Marshall was wearing a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, a jacket and, of course, his signature Kangol hat. You decided to dress up a little, with a somewhat casual dress that came just to your knees. You weren’t concerned over dressing up too much since the two of you were skipping the red carpet anyways.

The worst part about shows like this was that the more important awards, like your Song of the Year, were left until the end of the show, meaning you had to sit through endless speeches and attempts at jokes from the hosts and presenters. If it weren’t for this bet, you’d probably ditch the rest of the show.

At least the performances were good.

When the presenters for Song of the Year came on stage, all thoughts of the bet left your mind and instead you were full of nerves. What if neither of your names were called? Or worse, what if they called your name and you embarrassed yourself while accepting the award? On live television, where everyone in the entire world would see it and it would live on the Internet for the rest of your life.

Noticing your nervousness, Marshall reached over and took your hand. You looked over at him and your nerves almost completely melted away.

You almost missed the announcer calling your name if it wasn’t for your song loudly playing from the speakers and everyone around you looking at you with joy and excitement. It took a minute for the news to register before the excitement set in. You stood from your seat and planted a kiss on Marshall’s lips before making your way to the stage. You were glad now you hadn’t wore a long dress and risked tripping on the way to the stage.

You accepted the award and managed to give a speech that actually sounded coherent through the combination of excitement and nerves you were feeling. You were sure the camera could pick up how much your hands were shaking, but you deserved it given the circumstances. You smiled one more time for the audience and the cameras as the music played you off the stage. You followed the presenters to the backstage area where other artists and producers were conversing. They cheered as you walked in, congratulating you on your win.

You were shocked when Marshall walked up to you, not even noticing that he had left your seats to come back stage. He immediately put a hand on the back of your head and pulled you into another, more passionate congratulatory kiss.

“Why aren’t you in your seat?” you asked, a little dumbly but you were too dazed by excitement and by the sudden kiss.

“I believe we had a bet,” he said. “One that you just won.”

From the minute the presentation for the award started, you had totally forgotten about the bet. You didn’t even have time to gloat to Marshall about you winning over him, nor did think to do so anyways.

But he was right. You did win the bet.

You politely excused yourselves and left the backstage area to find the nearest bathroom. You went in first to make sure no one else was there, and when the coast was clear you opened the door for Marshall to join you. The minute he stepped inside, his lips were on yours again. They were rough and full of lust and passion. Despite having lost the bet, it was like he was just as excited for this outcome as you were.

With your lips still pressed together, Marshall backed you towards the counter. He put his hands on your hips and hoisted you onto the counter, breaking the kiss for just a split second before attacking your lips again. His tongue pressed against your mouth and you opened to let him in. His tongue swirled around your mouth, connecting with yours a few times, before pulling away. You almost grabbed him and pulled him to come back, but stopped when he got down onto his knees in front of you.

You were very glad you wore a short dress.

He didn’t have to push your dress up much since it was already bunched up around your thighs. You had wore a small thong just in case you had won and this was the outcome, which was proving to be a very smart decision on your part.

You gasped as you felt two of his fingers run through your folds, already dripping from the make out session alone.

“You’re already so wet,” he noted. “Just from the idea of me going down on you? You dirty slut.”

You whimpered at the degrading name.

You watched as the bottom part of his face disappeared between your thighs. He eyes were looking up at you as he licked one like stripe from your entrance to your clit. You gasped and reached down to grip his hair. Realizing he still had his hat on, you knocked it to the floor so you could really get a good grip on him.

His hands gripped your thighs, no doubt leaving marks on the sensitive skin. His tongue made quick work of licking at your clit; quick, short strokes mixed with long, slower ones every now and then just to feel you quiver against him. Everyone knew that Marshall was good with his tongue, but you knew just how good he could really be with it.

The brushing of his beard against your inner thighs and your pussy caused a whole new wave of pleasure the run through you. You wanted to watch him while he worked - he looked so concentrated as he devoured your pussy - but your head kept lulling backwards as moans tumbled from your mouth. You knew you should be more quiet since anyone could walk past and hear you, but you weren’t really in the right mind to think about that right now. All you could think about was Marshall’s wet tongue against your swollen clit, and the coil that was beginning to tighten in your stomach.

You tried to push Marshall away. As much as you were enjoying this, you wanted him to fuck you so you could cum on his dick instead. But he resisted your attempts to move away and continued his work.

“M-Marshall, I-I’m gonna...I’m so close,” you stuttered out. “I want you t-to fuck me.”

He looked up at you again and you could tell from the look in his eyes that he wasn’t about to stop any time soon. He was determined to make you cum this way, and that determination was hot enough to set you over the edge. You threw your head back again and let out a cry in pleasure as you felt your orgasm wash over you. You held Marshall’s head in place as he continued to lick over your clit, lapping up your juices.

You rested your head against the mirror behind you and tried to catch your breath. You almost whined when Marshall finally pulled away from your sensitive core, but felt yourself becoming turned on again at the sight of him. His lips were glistening and his beard had some leftovers of your juices on it. He turned on the sink next to you and wet a paper towel in order to wipe his mouth and chin clean.

“I’m surprised you didn’t take up the opportunity to bend me over and fuck me in front of the mirror,” you commented. “I thought it would’ve been really hot to do that. I wanted to feel you inside of me when I came.”

“This was your prize for winning the bet,” he said. “I wanted you to benefit from it.”

You smiled and reached for him. He stood between your legs and gave you a more gentle kiss than the ones you had gotten earlier. You could still taste yourself on his lips, which just helped to turn you on even more once again.

“Well, now that my prize for the bet is over, why don’t you take me home and use me to your relief?” you suggested, looking up at him with the most seductive look you could manage while still coming down from your high.

Marshall smirked at you. “I like the way you think.”

#eminem #eminem imagine #eminem x reader #eminem smut #marshall mathers #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers smut #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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lurkingshan · 3 months

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Last Twilight Episode 12

A month ago, I never could have predicted that I’d be sitting here trying to assemble some thoughts to explain how on earth this show went so badly off the rails. I am truly taken aback by where this story landed, and I advise anyone who wants to think of it fondly to just pretend it ended at episode 9, and even skip the finale if you haven’t watched yet. Before I get into it, let me just start with a word of praise for the cast, who did a great job with their performances and kept this show afloat when the writing fell apart. And boy, did it fall apart.

In my view, this narrative had three main threads it was addressing: 1) Day’s journey to accepting his disability; 2) unresolved family trauma; and 3) Mhok and Day’s romance. And in the end, it failed on all three of them. I am going to dig into this and I am not feeling particularly nice, so if this is going to hurt your feelings I suggest you stop reading now.

Day’s Journey

Just…wow. We have been afraid of this turn the entire time and trying to hold out hope that the show would not go there, but here we are. I started laughing out loud when we got to the end of part 3 and Mhon’s phone went off with an alert for a new eye donor, and then just stared incredulously at my screen as we time skipped AGAIN to a Day whose vision had been restored for years (last week I joked to @bengiyo and @waitmyturtles that once a drama starts using time skips it becomes addictive and they never stop, and—welp!). What was this entire show for? Why did we spend twelve episodes with Day grieving his vision loss, learning how to cope, and finally accepting his blindness only to completely undercut it at the end? The first part of the finale was so much about how he was thriving—finding a new career for himself and becoming self-sufficient and growing so much on his own—only to give us an ending that implied he could not actually have his happily ever after without his vision restored.

And this is in fact the message they sent by coupling the return of his vision with the return of he and Mhok’s relationship, and giving us a happy ending rooted in his contentment at having his sight back. They even went back to the Last Twilight mountain to completely tarnish the thematic resonance of the original scene. Calling back to the beautiful memory of Day “seeing” the sunset and experiencing “a moment so good that you feel like you can live there forever” as he accepted his disability with this scene of him seeing the real sunset with his restored vision was so hurtful to me that I actually got angry. Day didn’t need his vision back to get a happy ending, and I absolutely hate what this communicates about disabled people’s capacity to live happy and fulfilling lives. This show has created many writing sins but this is the most unforgivable to me.

Family Trauma

The show began dropping the ball on this one a few weeks ago, but this finale put the nail in the coffin. We spent most of this episode at Porjai and Night’s wedding, an event that might have felt meaningful if the show had let us see any of their romance. I’m grateful to Mark Pakin and Namtan Tipnaree for their beauty and charisma because it’s the only thing that made me care about those scenes at all. Rather than actually being about them, however, this wedding was used primarily as a clunky vehicle to deliver heavy-handed messages about “second chances” to encourage Day to get back together with Mhok (more on that in the next section).

I did enjoy the brief nods in this episode to the brothers continuing to have newfound harmony in their relationship, but where the show really lost me was in their attempt to bring Night and Day’s dad back into the mix and imply some sort of resolution between him and Mhon. Mhon, a woman whose perspective on their split we never actually saw, whose motivation for her choices and behavior toward her sons were completely elided by the narrative, who was forgiven and made peace with offscreen during a time skip. I was never given the chance to understand her or what this relationship meant to her in the first place, so why would I care about these scenes with her making her peace with this man? I continue to be so confused about where this show chose to spend its time, and why someone with Aof’s track record on developing strong and narratively important familial relationships dropped the ball so much with her.

The Romance

Okay, let’s get into it, and remember what I said about not reading if this is going to hurt your feelings! My criteria for considering a romance successful is I have to believe the relationship is mutual, beneficial to both of the pair, and that the couple is prepared to weather future challenges. Last Twilight’s romance fails on all three fronts, and it all comes down to the total imbalance in the relationship that persisted right through the final scenes.

This entire narrative has been Mhok bending to Day’s will, giving Day what he needs, forgiving him for everything, and letting him make all the decisions about the relationship, and the finale was regrettably more of the same. In episode 11, Mhok made a mistake when he lied to Day about turning down the job in Hawaii. But he made that mistake out of grief and fear, and Day didn’t care—he unfeelingly rejected him and his pain and ended their relationship without a second thought. That was potentially forgivable as a momentary lapse borne out of instinctual hurt, and could have been repairable had Day reconsidered soon after and extended Mhok some grace. But in this episode, we find out Day blocked Mhok and refused to communicate with him again after that night, and has left Mhok completely in the cold for three years after he failed to be perfect one (1) time.

And this episode? Was on Day’s side in this conflict. Mhok is the one to return and start pursuing Day again. Mhok is the one to broach the topic of their breakup. Mhok is the one to thank Day for breaking his heart and tell him he did nothing wrong (y’all, I almost threw something at the screen). Mhok’s grief and trauma go completely unaddressed in this finale until they try to play the Rung card for one last moment of sentiment. Day cries to his mother about how he just doesn’t know if he can forgive Mhok. And in the end, Mhok makes the grand gesture, missing his flight to go to Day and stay in Thailand with him despite the successful life he has built in Hawaii.

The cognitive dissonance I felt watching this play out was extreme. I rarely see a writer misunderstand their own characters and relationship conflict so thoroughly. In order to believe in this romance we needed to see Day finally show some empathy for Mhok, take responsibility for his own mistakes, and be the one to make an effort this time. We needed to believe that Day has the capacity to be a supportive partner to Mhok even when he’s struggling. But Day didn’t demonstrate any of that, and so I simply don’t believe in this relationship. I don’t believe Mhok can trust Day not to abandon him again when some other major life event intervenes and Mhok is less than perfect. And that’s a shame, because the show really almost had something here with these two.

And that’s all I got. What a disappointment this show turned out to be. If you need me, I will just be over here in my little corner imagining the Night and Porjai romcom that we never got and pretending the rest of this show ended several weeks ago.

#last twilight #last twilight the series #thai bl #shan shouts into the void

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thecoolblackwaves · 3 months

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Family Of Nerds: Feanorian Modern AU

(I’m sorry this is somewhat Americanized I just don’t have enough knowledge about anywhere else to make those allusions) (Also please reblog with your own headcanons or other thoughts!)

Feanor

Philologist; studies language history

Often assists at various museums, colleges, archeological sites, etc

Has published several books and given many lectures

Creates his own languages like Tengwar for fun, also is a hobby blacksmith

Teaches his children many archaic languages no one else speaks and takes his family on "educational" vacations

Also attends every convention known to man, even ones that have seemingly nothing to do with his own interests, dressed to the nines and spends his time there signing books and debating other people

Loves his wife just as madly as the day he met her and is ecstatic he married his high school sweetheart

Idolizes his father. Would have done great following his political career if he hadn't "ruined" his public image by becoming a teen parent, ultimately feels he's made the right decisions for his life though and is happy with his work

Rivalry with Fingolfin over who can host the best dinner party (and you best believe he wears smart-ass punny aprons while cooking a six course meal for his guests)

Nerdanel

Professional sculptor and multimedia artist

Teaches classes at an arts college

Is known to eat the fruit out of the bowls her students are sketching when no one is looking

Cannot cook to save her life

Enthusiastically attends every possible event in her family’s calendar no matter the weather or lack of skill at a toddler dance recital

Dresses in a fabulously bohemian eccentric artist way; stole the show when she attended the Grammys with Makalaure and has been featured in several fashion magazines

Carries all sorts of art supplies and seemingly random tools in her purse at all times, including a chisel, googly eyes, edible glitter, a bajillion hair ties, DW40, and peanut M&Ms

Has a calm, wise disposition that belies her truly chaotic nature

Often looked to for advice from her students and children and will only pull your leg when she thinks you’re being stupid

Does give genuinely good advice though, mostly because she is uncanny in her ability to read people and observe subtle hints

Maitimo

Studied communications, currently working as his father’s apprentice but hopes to find a position as a public relations specialist

Uses his intimidating stature and loud, deep voice to his advantage as needed

Was born while his parents were teenagers and still living with their families, he remembers watching cartoons with Grandpa Finwe and being babysat by his uncles

Also attended his mother’s graduation from art school as a small child and clapped until his little hands hurt

Is painfully aware of how all his younger brothers look up to him - literally - and sometimes struggles with the pressures of setting a good example, though he does much better than he realizes

Drinks his coffee from a mug that reads “don’t make this ginger snap” (Nerdanel has a matching one)

The gayest gay to ever gay, informs everyone of this via cheesy tee shirts gifted from his brothers and cousins

Drives a minivan, claims he chose it because it was the only car that would fit his legs and not because he can haul his brothers around in it

Frequently complains about missing the technology of his childhood but resents being called a millennial

Makalaure

Grammy award winning artist and composer

Created the score for a recent movie that bloomed his popularity and brought him to the limelight

Has a Youtube channel with several music videos he definitely didn’t blackmail his family into filming with him

Also performed on Broadway once and will not let you forget it

Used to skip school to busk in the train station and once caught his math teacher also skipping school

Extremely popular with interviewers, camera crew, and other industry specialists for his kindness and crazy stories about his family

Donates large amounts of his royalties to children’s hospitals and other charities

Used to hog the bathroom in the mornings to put on makeup and style his hair

Practices Beyonce dance routines in the mirror, has convinced Curufin to do them with him before

Spent a semester studying in Sydney, Australia and fainted after encountering a large spider in his dorm room

Tyelkormo

Forest ranger at a National Park

Works at outdoor summer camps every year, all the children love him and his giant fluffy dog

Also volunteers at animal shelters and the wildlife rehabilitation center at the National Park

Creatine for breakfast, lunch, and dinner; drinks so much milk Nerdanel used to tell him it was why his hair was white

Wakes up at 5 in the morning to exercise (disgusting)

Got a long bow for Christmas one year (the note said Santa but he knows it was his mom) and practices in the backyard by shooting at Amrod’s pumpkins

Metalhead, particularly likes viking metal and Nordic black metal

Made Huan his own battle vest complete with dog-themed patches such as “Bad to the Bone” and “No Leashes No Masters”

Tells the most terrible jokes you’ve ever heard then laughs like a seagull vomiting up a stolen bag of Doritos

Extremely loyal to his family, sometimes to a fault

Carnistar

Professional business accountant

Also does taxes as a side hustle because “it’s so easy”

Is obsessed with Oreos but will not admit it because of his brother's teasing about "Moryo's Oreos"

Obligatory family goth and not ashamed of it

Started mending his hand-me-down clothes as a necessity and got into sewing, now makes fantastic garments for his family and friends to wear

Halloween is the only valid holiday, he spends the entire year making his costume (it’s usually a vampire or some fandom character)

Stays up until 3am gaming on a PC he and Feanor built together one summer, favorite game is currently Balder’s Gate

Had to take speech therapy as a child and later some anger management classes.... because he got too good at expressing himself

Curufin

Silversmith and jewelry maker

Specializes in accessories for ballet dancers and other performers

Ballet dancer since he was young, never succeeded with a professional career but still practices daily and chose his specialty to remain part of the scene

Holds a serious grudge against certain critics that failed his entry to ballet academy (will not sell his products to them or their schools)

Always looking for new business opportunities, not always in the most honest of ways

Struggles with self esteem issues

Has several cats and claims they betray him when they snuggle with Huan but secretly finds it adorable

Frequently collaborates with Caranthir to make elaborate costumes just for the fun of it

Made a tiara for his favorite cat, Princess Paws

Would sleep until four in the afternoon if you let him (or if Princess Paws didn’t wake him up screaming for food)

Amrod

Gardening Club President at his school

Started a trade and barter farmers market after school to reduce waste and share the bounty of his and fellow club member’s gardens

Frequently tries to convince his parents to turn their property into a “self sufficient homestead”, leaves pamphlets and pictures of adorable baby animals lying around the house

Enlisted the help of his twin and Maitimo to build a chicken coop, forgot to ask Feanor’s permission first

Demands payment in the form of fresh caught fish or deer jerky for the use of his gourds in Tyelko’s target practice

Has definitely switched places with Amros to escape trouble or science tests

Often neglects his homework for pursuits he feels are more important, will only do it without complaint when Carnistar tells him to

Had eyes for the cool-looking red glow on the stove as a child and was banned from the kitchen for most of his adolescence

Is generally a persistent and stubborn person (wonder where he got it from)

Amros

Amateur photographer with an instagram following nearing one million

Account consists of 95% nature photography and 5% “The Adventures of Huan and Princess Paws” as he follows them around the back yard

Takes all of Makalaure’s headshots and creates his album covers, also photographs Curufin’s jewelry to upload to his retail website

“Borrows” Carnistar’s prized PC to upload and edit his photos

Conspired with Amrod to convince their elementary school classmates they were secretly Fred and George Weasley disguised as Muggles, ultimately failed because someone thought their accents “just sounded like they were copying Peppa Pig”

Still pulls out his British accent on occasion when someone needs cheering up

Inherited Nerdanel’s keen observation skills, mostly uses them to blackmail his brothers into doing his chores

But also gives the most amazing presents because he knows exactly what everyone truly wants

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thisisanewlowes · 3 months

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'Falling Stars' Prologue

Pairing: Hollywood AU!Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw is finally rising from the ashes of his declining acting career. When he is nominated for Best Actor, everything is on the line. Especially now that you're announcing your pregnancy in the most public way possible.

Warnings: Bradley is oblivious to everything around him, pregnancy, anxieties, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: OKAY, here we are. With both the prologue for 'Money Can't Buy You Love' and 'Falling Stars,' the A-List Universe is finally up and running. I hope you all love these little trailers and that you stick around for the feature films ;) Also, make sure to take this little quiz to find out which A-Lister is your soulmate!!

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

As you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, applying the lipstick you bought to match the stunning dress you picked out to walk the red carpet at your husband’s awards show. Moving to see your whole outfit in the full-length mirror adjacent to your closet, you subconsciously put a hand on your growing stomach.

“I look fat,” you stated, seeing that your husband appeared behind you.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, eyes and voice filled with awe.

“Don’t lie to me,” you grumbled as Bradley walked up to put his hand over yours.

“I would never lie to you,” he said as he placed his head in the crook of your neck. After placing a light kiss to your pulse point, you ask, “Are you nervous for tonight.”

Bradley scoffs and then stills before slowly nodding into your neck. “ I want to be someone that you and the baby are proud of. I want to be good enough for you both.”

“Oh, honey,” you say, turning around to take his head in your hands. You press your forehead to his before adding, “You’re enough. You’ve always been enough.”

You both take a moment to breathe before Bradley states, “Well, I think it’s time to go. You ready?”

You smile up at him, “We’re ready.”

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

Pulling up in the white Bronco that Bradley only broke out for special occasions, you felt the butterflies in your stomach grow more and more prevalent. Or maybe that was just your growing baby. You thought about all the other women who found themselves in the spotlight due to their husbands. How had they survived the pressures of announcing their pregnancy? You felt like you were going to lose your mind from the stressful anticipation.

Bradley grabs your hand as a valet worker steps up to open his door. You tried to ignore the fact that his palms were sweaty and instead placed your hand on his bouching leg. Without paying attention to the onslaught of reporters, Bradley steps out of the car and runs around to the other side to help you step out.

Walking around the front of the car towards the red carpet, you looked up to see Bradley’s face bursting with pride. With one hand in his and the other placed protectively over your baby, you take a deep breath and force a smile. You were happy for your husband, truly, but the spotlight was never where you felt you belonged. But that didn’t matter, you would do anything for Bradley, even step out of your comfort zone in such a public fashion.

As you approached the first stop on the carpet, Bradley placed his hand over your bump and leaned down to give you a kiss. You could barely make out the yells from the reporters asking your husband about everything from his nomination to your baby. And every time, Bradley skipped over questions about his work to praise you for all the support you’ve given him. You knew his agent would be mad about that later, but in the moment, you couldn’t help but beam up at him with love and adoration.

“Bradley?” You questioned upon seeing his rival Jake Seresin where he stood with the assistant director from his last project. When the flash from the camera hit Jake and his girlfriend it almost seemed like… “Are they engaged?!”

“Umm, yeah, I think so,” Bradley said. And after a pause he added, “Wait what?” Before snapping his head over to where Jake stood, a shit-eating grin on his face.

After you finished walking the carpet, you walked arm-in-arm with Bradley to where you were seated. “What are you doing here?” You husband yelled, seeing that Jake and his fiance were sitting at the table you were assigned to.

“I’m trying to have a nice evening with my fiance,” Jake snapped back at him before grabbing the hand of the woman seated next to him to show off the huge ring that sat on her finger. “See,” he taunted, “fi-an-ce.”

You rolled your eyes at the man’s absurdity before the future Mrs. Seresin patted the seat next to her with a welcoming smile and added, “Here, Mrs. Bradshaw.” Placing yourself in between the Seresins and your huband, you tried to ignore the loud whispering of the couple to your left.

“Why him? Why him of all people?” Your husband asked into the void.

“Maybe this is a sign. You used you be friends, you know. Maybe this is the universe’s way of telling you to mend things with him.

“Yeah, sure,” he grumbled. With a sigh, he pulled your seat closer to his rested his head on top of yours. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too,” you said before your husband turned to talk to one of his approaching co-stars.

Turning to the woman who sat beside you, a motherly smile grew on your face as the younger woman congratulated you on your pregnancy. “I’m sure you both must be so excited,” she added.

“Yeah,�� you told her, turning to look at your husband was now staring back at a very angry Jake. “Yeah, we are..” you trailed off. In a moment of realization that you should say something back ot the poor girl who had to marry Jake Seresin, you added, “And, wow, you’re engaged! If you asked me a year ago if I thought that Jake Seresin would ever propose I would have laughed. But the second I saw you two together,” you placed a cautious hand over hers. “I knew that this was something special. Make sure to cherish it,” you added, hoping that you didn’t sound too off-putting before turning back to talk to Bradley.

With the hosts appearing on stage and the volume in the theater lowering, you quickly told Bradley, “We love you, and we are so proud of all that you’ve done.”

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

“And now,” one of Bradley’s former co-stars and the presenter for the Best Actor award yelled out. “the nominees for this year’s Best Actor award…” As he trailed off, you looked up to see your husband’s image projected onto the screen. It was one of your favorite scenes from “The Forgotten Frontier Three,” where his character confessed that he didn’t feel like he could save everyone. You found it fitting for your husband’s very real anxieties.

When the camera panned to where Bradley sat, he gave a small smile before pointing at your baby bumb and giving you a playful kiss on the cheek. After the screen started showing another nominee, you turned to your husband.

“You’ve got this, honey. We believe in you,” you smiled at him with pride. Looking back to the stage, you felt your husband’s grip on your hand tighten as the presenter opened the white envelope.

“And the winner is…”

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Tag List:

@environmental-gbcd @seresinsbrat @miselaneas @fantoz @sailor-aviator @teacupsandtopgun @goldenseresinretriever@seresinsweetie @thedroneranger @attapullman @floydsglasses @mrsrobertfloyd @djs8891 @queenslandlover-93 @paigewinchester67@roosterforme @tgmrooster @topguncortez @seresinhangmanjake @callsigncurse @callsigncowboy @callsign-daydream@teacupsandtopgun @acewritesfics @missathlete31 @themissingmango @blue-aconite @whatislovevavy @sunlightmurdock @bradshawbaby @averyhotchner

#top gun #top gun maverick #glen powell #hangman #top gun 1986 #hangman top gun #top gun 2022 #bradley bradshaw #top gun rooster #miles teller #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster #hollywood #tgm #actor!bradley #a-list universe

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watermelonsugacry · 1 year

Note

OMG could you imagine harry or yn on hot ones, I feel like yn would kill it(I’m not sure abt harry)😭

HOT ONES

A/N: this was so fun! ty to the lovies that sent in some questions for this one 💚 (picture credits to harianadimples & harianachile !) (4.6k)

GENRE: 1dbandmember!yn

SINCE 2010 masterlist

“Hey, what’s going on everybody. This is First We Feast, I’m Sean Evans, and you’re watching Hot Ones. It’s the show with hot questions and even hotter wings. And today we’re joined by the one and only YN YLN. You might have known her as one sixth of the most famous and influential bands in history, One Direction. She’s a triple threat and an 8 time Grammy award-winning singer, song-writer, musician, and producer and we shouldn’t be surprised if she adds a couple more on her shelf with her new album Waiting Room. The no features, no skip album that’s quickly making its way to the top of the charts. YN, welcome to the show.”

“What a fookin’ intro, man,” YN laughs and plants her hands on the circular table. “Thank yeh for having me on here.”

“The pleasure is all mine. It’s an honor to have you on the show. How are we feeling today?”

“M’actually extremely terrified,” She lets out a chuckle, clasping her hands together as her eyes look over the lineup of spicy wings in front of her.

“About the wings or the questions?”

“It’s half and half for sure.”

“So how are you with spicy foods?”

“M’quite alright with them but m’bit frightened by this gorgeous array of hot sauces here. Like—” YN holds up one of the tiny, glass bottles to the camera. “—this one quite literally has a picture of a bomb on it so,” She raises her hands in defense with a shrug of her shoulders. “Take that as you will.”

...

“Mhm,” YN nods as she licks her lips. “S’quite tasty. I like that one.”

“For the record, I did see that you ate the whole wing. Do you plan on continuing that as we go down the line?”

“I don’t waste food, man,” She smirks as she wipes her hands on the red cloth.

“So let’s start off with before you came into the spotlight. It was revealed that you actually didn’t want to continue singing as a profession when you were younger, but your childhood best friend and later on One Direction band member, Louis Tomlinson, made you audition on the XFactor with him. How did this come to be?”

“He tricked me actually. Louis had told me about how he was able to get an audition for the XFactor and I was super excited for him. Getting a chance like this was all he had talked about when we were growing up. On our way to Manchester—which was like an hour or two away from Doncaster—he told me that he got me an audition too and I was gonna sing in front of the biggest audience ever. The little shit."

"But do you think you would have auditioned if it were on your own terms?" Sean inquires.

"Probably not, if m'being honest," YN shakes her head. "And that honestly me skin crawl. M'very grateful for the path that I went on and that my fans have been giving me the opportunity to continue to do what I love for the past 12 years."

...

Once YN bites off of the last piece of her next wing, she shrugs her shoulders, “These wings are really good. This is easy, bro.”

“I’m just trying to keep up with you,” Seam chuckles before finishing off his piece. “Okay, so let me brag for you for a sec.”

“Alright,” YN lets out a nervous chuckle.

“You have 8, count ‘em, 8, Grammys in the 12 years since you became a solo artist and you have another impressive 8 nominations for the Grammys 2023. One of your many wins is being producer of the year—a category you nominated for the second year in a row—which you said in a Rolling Stones article that it was probably the best award out of everything you’ve ever received in your professional career as an artist. Can you give us some insight into how that became such an important staple on your shelf?”

“Wow,” YN huffs out a smile in disbelief. Her nostrils begin to flare and she can feel the tears threatening to escape her eyes. She feels uncharacteristically embarrassed that she’s suddenly overcome with emotions. “Woah, sorry. I don’t know why I was gonna cry for a second there.”

YN looks up with a chuckle, shimmies in her seat, before she gives a single clap. “Okay, m’good. Yeah I mean, for the first couple of years of my career, I fell in love with what it takes to actually make a song, how to layer instruments and vocals, and the details you can initially glaze over when you first listen to a song. But being the only woman in a music studio full of my male band members, producers, sound engineers, and everyone—it took me a while to be confident enough to speak out about making suggestions in the process of making a song.

I learned so much by just watching in me corner of the room, then I was shown bits and pieces from 1D’s production team. And when I went onto me solo career, I was taken under the wings of kickass producers like Kid Harpoon and Tyler Johnson. Being a woman in this industry—capable of making me own music is a huge accomplishment for me as an artist and for all women who want to break out in a male dominated environment.”

“Continuing the brag streak—”

“Oh, no,” YN smiles behind her red napkin. As confident and narcissistic as she can be, she’s never been one to take a compliment—especially the way in which Sean is just throwing them out there like free candy.

“—your first solo world tour sold out in less than 4 minutes, and your current tour sold out in less than two. How was it like to come into a solo tour after touring with the rest of One Direction five years straight?”

“Well to start off, that statistic is absolutely insane,” YN lets out a laugh. “It was such a big change to do this on my own without the boys by my side on stage. I remember doing a final dress rehearsal the day before me first show and while I sat on stage and just looked out at the massive arena I was in, I began to panic. It wasn’t like I hadn’t performed in that big of a room before but I began to think what if they only bought the tickets because they were so used to the boys? Like, what if they didn’t like just me onstage or the fact that I was doing choreographed dance routines and things like that? But that all changed once I was actually on stage performing. I…I’ve never felt that type of love before.”

...

After YN tosses the bone of her next piece of chicken away and as Sean begins his next question, she stares off to the corner of the table for a second and widens her eyes. Out of nowhere, the spice level has officially been kicked up.

“You’ve also made some impressionable fashion choices that have become a staple in not only your own wardrobe but in the closets of your fanbase. From your frilly shirts from your One Direction days to becoming the female face of Gucci. From your signature 7-inch platform heels to your variety of colorful and textured opera gloves. How important is fashion in your life and how you choose to express yourself?”

YN licks her swollen lips, chuckling a bit from the spice is starting to pick up.

“Fashion wasn’t something I was super passionate about growing up. I wore a lot of dark clothing when I was teenager and when I was in the band I began to wear a lot of shirts and pinks and high heels which was a drastic change for me to say the least. I then went into a lot of changes of like—” YN moves her hand fluidly up and down in a roller coaster motion. “—I was angsty to girly girl to frat girl to comfy to leather. And when I went on this solo journey, I was embracing both a new and older side of me with more pinks and heels but putting a sexier twist to it. And now m’all trousers and blazers but m’still very much figuring out me style. All of my different fashion ‘eras’ define a different chapter of me life and I think that’s such a cool thing about fashion. Clothes don’t wear you, you wear the clothes and when you have that in mind, it can give yeh a big sense of confidence.”

YN can’t help the smile tugging on her lips from her memories of being on stage, “And it’s such an indescribable feeling being on stage for tour and just seeing a sea full of the fans in those long gloves.”

“It has officially become one of many infamous YN YLN trademarks,” Sean points out.

“I guess so,” She laughs along with the host.

...

“We have a segment on our show called Explain That Gram where we do a deep dive on your Instagram and pull interesting photos that need more context.”

“Sounds good, man,” YN nods and she reaches for the hot sauce used for this piece of chicken. "This one has like a lemony taste to it. I like it."

"Well, we have this whole set for you to take home today."

"Shut up," Her eyes widen in excitement. "No way, that's very sweet of yeh. Thank yeh so much, I appreciate that."

When Sean pulls up the first picture on his laptop, YN immediately coos at the screen.

“Wow you guys really went far back, didn’t yeh? Yeah so this was at the band’s third tour, I believe. I remember having such a shitty day earlier before the show and to cheer me up, Harry asked if I could braid his hair,” YN giggles at the memory.

She was going through a rough patch with Matthew and they had an argument right before she had to do some interviews for the day and a show later that night. Knowing how to approach her best, Harry knocked on her dressing room door to see a teary eyed YN wiping her cheeks as quickly as she could. He didn’t ask her why she was crying or try to give her comforting words right away. Instead, he repeated his question when she gave him a furrow of her eyebrows and tilt of her head.

For the last 20 minutes before they had to head backstage, Harry sat on the floor in front of the couch in between her legs. As she twisted and weaved his long hair, he kept her laughing with poor jokes and funny vines he saved on his phone.

She didn’t have time to finish the middle section of his head and when she asked him to sit back down to take the braids out, he refused and basked in the warmth of her smile. He went on stage with them on and he never saw the smile leave her face.

“I had been bugging him to let me do it ever since he decided he wanted to grow his hair out and donate it to charity. It was a very sweet thing he did for me.”

“Hehe,” YN giggles happily at the memory this picture holds for her. She sees her 20-year-old self squished in between Harry and Louis, her Ray Bands over her eyes as she smiles brightly at the camera. “So this looks like 2014 1D and if you’ve seen the footage you can tell that we are—” YN hits a higher pitch as she sings her next words, “High as a fookin’ kite. We were in Brazil and we wanted to go out exploring but there was this massive crowd of fans outside our hotel—”

“Oh, don’t touch your eyes!” Sean quickly reminds YN as she goes to wipe at her eyes.

“Ah! ‘Fank you,” She laughs and dabs at her eyes once someone behind the camera hands her a tissue. “Okay, so there were a lot of fans blocking the front of the hotel and we couldn’t have just merely walked out and got to our cars or anything. I can’t remember who suggested it but we ended up getting out through the back of a bread van. We totally went by unnoticed!”

“We’re going in that?” YN points to the back of the white bread van that’s stuffed with pillows. By the tone of her surprised voice, the hotel workers’ eyes widen, their cheeks get red and they can feel the sweat accumulating on their foreheads in fear. They didn’t want to disappoint and anger a member of the most famous band on the planet. Yet their eyes stay wide for a different reason as YN breaks out into a beaming smile. “Sick!”

She grips onto one of the back doors as she swings herself into the tiny space covered in pillows.

Louis gives one of the hotel workers a reassuring smile and a pat on the chest, “Yeh get used to it. Can I come in and cuddle you, Niall?” He teases as everyone begins to squish in together. Ben Winston is the last to come in and close the door beside him. He’s brought a camera with him to record the trip as it’s going to be a part of the many video diaries that YN can’t keep track of.

“I used to be a baker so I love being in the back of the bread van,” Harry notes like he hasn’t brought up his part-time job from his teenage years before.

“Would you give it a rest, mate,” YN groans from her squished position between him and Louis, giving him a playful roll of her eyes before chuckling along with the rest of the boys.

“I quite like it in here,” Zyan smiles happily from his corner of the van. It doesn’t take long before they can hear the hundreds of fans screaming outside the vehicle. Everyone makes a shushing noise to quiet everyone as they pass the masses of fans.

YN already gets anxious when the band has to drive through massive crowds of fans who like to bang on the windows of the Range Rovers. The boys even like to push against the thick glass to counter the weight but that doesn’t stop the anxiety rushing to her chest when it happens.

Her mind starts to race at the thought that if the fans did actually find out that they were in there, they could easily shred the tiny van into pieces.

When Harry sees her chest begin to rise up and down at an increasing weight behind his dark sunnies, he doesn’t think twice about putting a hand over hers that’s gripping the pillow in the space between them. He’s thankful for the dimly lit setting and the way she has her legs bent as it covers their tightly, intertwined hands. She discreetly follows his nonverbal instructions and inhales deeply through her nose to copying how he makes a small ‘O’ with his mouth to exhale.

“Why don’t we make this trip a little more exciting?” Zayn wiggles his eyebrows as he pulls out something from his cargo shorts pockets.

YN pushes her sunglasses up to the top of her head and squints at the tiny object between her bandmate’s fingers before she smiles in relief. She watches as Zayn brings up the rolled-up substance to his lips, flicking his thumb on the lighter before a flame appears. After starting it, he goes to pass it to Niall who immediately shakes his head. Once Louis’s taken a hit, he passes it to an eager YN.

Everyone begins to have their own side conversations and Harry feels the butterflies in his stomach threatening to escape when YN doesn’t let go of his hand.

He watches from behind his pitch dark sunglasses as she holds the blunt between her thumb and first two fingers, wrapping her lips around it ever so gently and hollowing out her cheeks. Her teeth clench together as she holds the smoke in her lungs for a couple of beats, her eyelashes fluttering at the feeling before releasing the smoke into the space above her.

“How yeh feeling, Nialler?” Ben asks and turns the camera towards Niall in hopes of not capturing what the band is doing. Especially YN as it could cause harm to her “good girl” image that fans already know isn’t fully her.

“Not good,” He mutters out.

“Yeh want me to shotgun you one, Ni? It’ll make yeh feel better.” YN asks with a teasing smile once she blows out another puff from between her full lips, passing the blunt off to Harry. As he snickers along with the rest of the band, he has to admit that he’s relieved when Niall politely declines her offer.

Once Harry has it between his lips and takes a deep inhale, he's suddenly coughing a few times into his fist.

"Woah," YN giggles and puts a hand on her bandmate's shoulder, already feeling the effects. "Maybe I should have offered you a hit instead."

Her teasing comment only makes him cough more at the intimate thought as he passes the drug to Liam.

"S'just been a while," He manages to say once he's calmed down.

"Just offering," YN smiles at him, biting down on her bottom lip as she leans her head back to the metal wall behind her.

"Well, you seem to be feeling better," Harry quickly changes the subject before he lets his hazy mind wander. He matches her position and leans his head back. A smile etches on his lips when she giggles, closing her eyes and nodding her head.

"Thanks to you," She whispers and gives his hand a squeeze. Getting into a fuzzy headspace, she doesn't think about how long she's been holding his hand or how it makes her skin tingle at his touch. Instead, she brings their hands up between them and pushes them flat against one another so their palms are together. "Woah, look how much bigger yeh hands are."

His dimples dig into his cheeks as he cheekily chuckles at her, letting her maneuver their hands together as she pleases.

"How long?" Louis asks the drivers through the wall behind him. After letting him know that they've arrived, he dramatically yells out, "Okay!"

As soon as their security teams have opened the back doors of the tiny van, everyone begins to scooch their way out.

"S'almost as big as me face!" Harry lets out a string of high-pitched giggles when YN grasps his hand in both of hers and holds it up close to her face to demonstrate her point.

“It made the experience 10x better than it needed to be,” YN laughs, reminiscing at the fun memories she had with her boys. “I just felt bad for Niall, poor thing got both motion sickness and a secondhand high.”

"Alright, last one."

“Yeah, so—” YN sucks in a deep breath through her teeth from the spicy wing she just had. “Um, this was around the time when I started to write some songs on me own, just out on a whim. This was when me manager told me that someone was interested in buying it. So that was me reaction to the news. As you can tell, I acted very professional and calm about the situation.”

...

"I must say that you're doing a really good job so far," Sean smiles at the pop star across the table. "Most would have finished their first glass of milk by now while you're still drinking water."

"I'm built different."

“It’s no surprise to anyone that you know your way around a guitar. You’ve shown off some of your favorite and unique guitars from your extensive collection over the past couple of years. From your custom-made Daisy Rock Debutante butterfly shape staple to your Fender Vintera '50s Stratocaster that was used in a plethora of ABBA’s songs. From Jimi Hendrix's 1967 Gibson Flying V to your baritone/tenor snail shaped ukulele—The Snailele. Out of the all of guitars in your care, what would you say is the coolest guitar you own and why is it your Red Special?”

YN covers her mouth as she laughs out loud while simultaneously trying not to think about the heat increasing in her mouth.

“How do you even know that? I mean, yeh asking me to pick me favorite is like choosing my favorite child. I love all me guitars and they all have a chokehold over me heart. My Red Special is just—” YN has to take in a deep breath in hopes to cool down the heat building on her tongue. “—one of the fookin’ coolest things I own. It’s a hand-crafted replica of Brian May’s guitar that he uses for literally everything and when I met him I nearly shit meself, m’not even joking. Like, that guy is fookn’ superhero, know what I mean? And when he gifted me the guitar, I saw the light, man. I literally had an outside body experience. Like I saw meself in the middle of Brian May’s dressing room as he handed me the guitar.”

“Some people buy and collect expensive cars, I have cool guitars,” YN shrugs with a content smile.

...

“Now, let’s talk about the infamous Harry Styles.”

YN nods her head towards the host, hissing in a deep breath from the hot wing she just ate. This piece has easily become one of the spicier wings so far and she can instantly tell why that is from the mention of her secret fiancé. She smirks as she raises her glass of water to her lips, “Lets.”

“So, you guys have known each other for a little more than 12 years now as you guys were in One Direction together. And on New Years 2020, it has revealed to the world that you guys were in a relationship. Now, I won’t ask for you to go into the details of your relationship but is there any particular reason as to why you guys have kept your anniversary a secret?”

“You know, from a very young age, mine and Harry’s lives have always been in the public eye,” YN licks her lips and chuckles as the burning sensation only increases the more she speaks. They don’t call this hot sauce DaBomb for nothing. “Holy shit. Think m’gonna have to take off me blazer for this one, is that alright?” YN questions, already shedding off her coat. The tattoos scattered along her arms go on display and fans can see Harry’s handwriting inked on her upper rib cage.

“Go ahead, whatever you need to do,” Sean gives her a comforting smile. “Here, I’ll even take my jacket off, too. We’re in this together.”

“I feel the support,” YN laughs but it only makes the stinging that much more intense. “M’actually starting to sweat. Oof okay umm…yeah, even the way our relationship was ‘announced’ kind of left us vulnerable, in a way.”

“What a start to the new year.”

“Exactly. And there was a time in our lives where we felt that everyone knew everything about us and it was something that just didn’t sit well with us. So to have this one piece of our lives for only ourselves just felt right. And even though I’m on social media more than he is and I post a couple of pictures of us every now and then, we definitely don’t feel that way anymore. Which feels really nice.”

“Moving onto the more professional side of your relationship with Harry, you’ve obviously worked with him during your time in the band. You were initially brought onto his production team as a songwriter for his first album, then a musician, vocal-arrangement manager, and producer for his second, and now you were all of the above plus co-lead producer for his current album, Harry’s House. You’ve also worked with big time artists like Little Mix, The Weeknd, Lizzo, and Olivia Rodrigo just to name a few. How did that initial experience help you grow as a producer and build relationships when working with other artists?”

“You’ve really done yeh research haven’t yeh?” YN giggles before going into a coughing fit, quickly bringing the red cloth over her mouth from the spicy wing. “Excuse me. Shit, sorry,” YN laughs before reaching for her tall glass of water.

“Is it finally starting to hit?”

YN takes a gulp of water, quickly licking her lips as she sniffles away the start of a running nose. Being as stubborn as ever, she shakes her head, “Nope.”

“We do have milk for you there if you need it,” Sean kindly points out and YN begins to chew on a piece of ice.

“Don’t need it, ‘fanks. Umm, oh right. Harry’s me best friend above all else and we’ve been writing together since as long as I can remember. We’ve gone through and learned about this process together for over a decade now. He’s considered one of me biggest clients and when we work together, I tell him the honest truth. I don’t like to suga’ coat shit and it’s how I work. That’s something that he knows, feel comfortable with, and respects. And there’s always that ‘something’ you learn about with every artist you work with. Like sure we can go into the studio cold turkey and make a song together but before I work with someone, I wanna take them outside of the mindset, ‘Okay, I wanna make a #1 hit single,’ and make a song that means something to them.”

YN swallows thickly, swinging her legs back and forth as she tries to get her thoughts in order from her spice-induced brain.

“With Harry, he’s sort of allowed me to explore and experiment when making music; he trusts me in that sense and as a producer, that’s the most important thing I can have when creating something as intimate as music.”

...

YN’s eyes widen when she sees Sean begin to shake the bottle, “O-oh we’re doing this?”

“It’s tradition around here to add a little bit more sauce on the last wing. Now you don’t have to if you don’t want to—”

“Seany boy, if there’s one thing yeh should know about me is that v’got a huge ego. But m’sure yeh already knew that,” YN just her hand out towards the host, wiggling her fingers while sucking in another sharp breath in hopes to ease the pain on her tongue. “Gimme that shit.”

With an uneasy sigh, YN shakes the bottle to pour some of the thick hot sauce to the last wing on the cutting board.

“Come on, YN,” YN whispers to herself. “You’re a bad bitch.”

Making sure to avoid her lips from touching the chicken as much as possible, she takes a heavy bite from the last wing.

She scrunches up her face as she chews but it turns into a pleasantly surprised expression. “Wait, what the fook that one was actually quite good. S’actually not that bad—oh shit, no nevermind.”

Sean chuckles at the rollercoaster of emotions displayed in front of him. YN gulps down as much water as she can.

“Okay, side question as you’re processing all of this: Since you have yet to reach for the milk we have for you, in your honest opinion, do you think Harry Styles could handle the range of spice that you’ve endured over the course of this show?”

YN chews and speaks around a mouthful of ice, “He can try but he wouldn’t make it past the second one.”

“Is that a little trash talk I hear?” Sean laughs.

“Listen up, baby,” YN leans her elbow on the table and points to the camera that’s solely directed on her. “I love yeh, you know I do, but you couldn’t eat any of this shit if yeh tried. Just the smell of it is gonna make your eyes water. Just looking out for you, lovie. And let’s face it, we both clearly know m’the stronger one here,” She blows a kiss at the camera and reaches for her water cup once again.

When she has the glass to her lips, she huffs out a giggle, “He’s gonna come after me for that later. Fook, s’like m’breahting fire right now.”

YN leans her forearms on the edge of the round table and balls her hands into fists to keep herself stable at the burning on her tongue intensifies.

“That last thing I wanna do before be close up shop here is play a little game of association. I’m going to throw out some stuff out to you and I want you to tell me the first thing that comes to your mind. Are you ready?”

“Hit me with ‘em.”

“Jacob Collier.”

YN scoffs and shakes her head with a smile, “A fookin’ mastermind.”

“The restaurant Danny’s Place.” YN throws her head back and laughs at how much research this guy actually did on her past. Her brain has turned into utter mush from the spicy chicken that she can’t come up with a polite, media-trained response.

“It’s still shit,” YN shrugs and she doesn’t even try to hide her smile.

“Loophole.”

“Woah,” YN’s eyes widen with a chuckle. “Oh my word. Hell yeah. Okay—you are like the best interviewer I’ve ever had in me life. Um, bitch’n.”

...

“Okay to this camera, this camera or this camera, tell the people what you’ve got going on lately.”

“Um—” YN blinks away her spice-induced tears away, sniffing and rubbing the red cloth to her runny nose. “M’currently on a world tour. So if yeh bought a ticket, I’ll see yeh lot very soon. Also, me new album Waiting Room comes out the day after tomorrow—Wait, when will this air? Well, it will be out very soon because I can’t really think straight at the moment. Erm, this show was a fookin’ piece of cake and Sean Evans is a legend.”

The Sean and the crew members behind the cameras all clap and cheer making YN laugh. Once the shoot is a wrap and the credits begin to show up at the bottom of the screen, YN gets up and out of her seat to give a hug to possibly her new favorite host.

“How often do you do this?” She genuinely asks.

“Every week.”

“You eat this spicy shit every week?” Sean nods and laughs at how wide her eyes get. “You’re a fookin’ legend, man. I mean it.”

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solecize · 1 year

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐃 | 𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. as you attempt to claw away at keeping your title as the nation's sweetheart following a dispatch scandal that put a pause on your career for a nearly year long hiatus, everyone in your circle and your company seems to tip-toe around you. you're a monster, a diva, an explosion waiting to be set off. they go on to release the staff around with NDAs regarding your dating leak and hire a new team altogether out of necessity. amongst them is the straight-faced irene, the quiet stylist with a mastermind that vows to help you in your return every step of the way. she guides you through the next chapter of your career, becoming your bravery when you couldn't be your own. 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. irene x idol!reader 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. swearing 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 2.0k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. this is probably the first piece of fiction i’ve written in 2 years so its a lil rough sorry lol anyway this is gonna be a short series, probably around 5 parts or so maybe less idk

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ PART 01/05.

she always asked what you were giggling about - seemingly every time she painted lip gloss across your smile, you were holding back a laugh. it was mostly to her own exasperation, as the crease that formed between her brows was supposed to show just how much harder you were making her job for her. irene didn’t actually ever mind, though. it was you, how could she?

after returning to your group to take part in the preparations for your fourth mini album comeback, it was made evident to you that management was taking each step with caution. not in regards to your wellbeing, no, it wasn’t definitely not that. it was the way it seemed as though the world began walking on eggshells around you after your forced hiatus. it was also the way the world seemed to be constantly giving you a side eye, going over all the variants of the word ‘diva’ in their heads.

not irene, though.

since pre-debut, you were used to certain personalities from idol staff. there were all sorts - from the older, stricter company employees that scrutinized your every move, the staff that were too scared to even speak directly to you, the staff that were big fans and did everything in their power to please you. some of the long term faces that stuck by your group for the past few years had even become your friends.

when irene came along, you nearly picked a fight with her for no reason. frustrated and on your first day back from “vacation,” you were met with the stunning irene and immediately grew territorial. who was this beautiful stranger and why was she taking up space in the middle of your trailer? she, of course, looked back at you with a blank face and proceeded to tell you to strip without any hi or introduction.

“strip,” irene commanded, as she rifled through the rack of clothes in front of her.

her hands swiped between flashes of different shades of purple - the theme for the first couple of scenes of the music video . you were left speechless for a second, tongue tumbling on any form of introduction, which irene had promptly skipped over. she met your eyes, making you snap out of your stutter, and her pointed look towards your left showed that your other members were already getting their video shoot clothes on.

“um, i’m y/n. what happened to cha - “

“i don’t know and i don’t really care. take off your jewelry, too.” in the middle of buttoning your jeans down, you saw that irene had quickly laid out what you would be wearing on camera. an off the shoulder lilac gingham piece that would brush against your ankles with puff sleeves, paired with freshwater pearls. it screamed sweet and loving “girl next door” all over - although, in your eyes, it was the perfect “please forgive me” look to your fanbase following the dating scandal that halted your career for multiple months. irene knew what she was doing.

you were able to get a good look at irene for the first time - or at least, the best you could with the way she moved so quickly. she was definitely around your age and definitely gave the impression of an idol herself. she was naturally beautiful, maybe one of the most beautiful girls you’d ever seen, and even in her work clothes of a simple long sleeve and jeans, irene looked like a model herself. her long black hair was pulled into a low ponytail, with a few strands of hair framing her face. you noticed her identification lanyard was decorated with hello kitty stickers.

your shoes were finally off, but you were still stunned silent. your group mate, sohye, glanced over at you with a puzzled expression. you noticed she was already in her dress and you hurriedly grabbed your own to hop your feet in. she was still staring at you, as her own stylist began doing as well. however, the latter seemed to be fighting a smirk.

“what?”

sohye met eyes with her stylist and mirrored the same devious look. “nothing! you’re just really quiet, y/n....”

it was true. you were the fire cracker of the group, the one who’s laughter rung throughout the entire venue alone. boisterous and proud, you were made silent at the unique nature of the group’s newest staff member. this caught the attention of a few others in the room, a bit confused, as you were often the loudest voice in the room. you would at least be cracking some good-hearted jokes about your time off or practicing runs with sohye. you still weren’t sure why she was smirking at you and irene, though.

“...met her match....”

“ladies! can we get a move on? mio, you still have to get your extensions in! bora, are you taking those pics for instagram? fantastic! and...y/n, you’re still getting your outfit on?” it was your manager, also known as the second loudest voice in the room. he seemed to take on a permanently frantic state across your group’s life span, as he dashed in the room out of nowhere, murmuring things at the appearance of his idols and scribbling things on a clipboard.

he sighed, looking over at irene. “she’s not giving you a hard time, is she?”

“hey!”

“no, she’s been fine,” was irene’s reply, as she plugged in a curling iron on the pastel pink vanity in front of the two of you, not missing a beat. your manager looked at you, then back at irene, and simply shrugged and continued rambling about your group’s schedule for the next two hours.

you let out a deep sigh that went unnoticed by the others in the room, except irene who raised an eyebrow at you, while simultaneously ushering you to the makeup chair. it really should have been you looking at her like that, as you were taken aback by how on her feet she was - in multiple ways. irene moved like a machine, weaving back and forth in the small space allocated to the both of you at the speed of light. she called over some assistant makeup artists to begin their work on you, as she ignored you in favour for directing the look that they were going for on you. irene was also on her feet against your group’s manager, the head honcho that typically leaves staff members unnerved. she was swift and she was direct. that was the first thing you ever noticed about her.

bora sauntered over and peered at you with a frown. “hey. why does y/n get the nicest set?” between the three other members, it was clear that bora still wasn’t over the fact that you got caught with a dating scandal. it looked bad on all of them as a group and you had apologized profusely to them for being a hinderance, but she was still showing the same level of disdain she had before. you two were never the closest in particular and now, it seemed like your friendship, or even profession relationship at the least, was beyond repair.

you rolled your eyes at her. “go back to your own space, damn.”

“well, you’re the one that messed up, i just don’t see why the company gave you irene. she’s the best of the best and my stylist is dressing me up like dora the explorer,” she grumbled the last part under her breath, returning her attention to her phone screen, where she was undoubtedly scrolling through social media to see what the fans were posting about her.

it was technically your first day back. you and the girls quickly recorded your album in under a month and were thrown into the wolves that were better known as a kpop comeback. it was a record, basically unheard of in your company. however, plans changed following the scrapped debut of what was supposed to be a new boy group and a slot was left wide open for your group. everything had been a whirlwind so far and there was definitely an air of extra pressure following your hiatus, the need to prove yourself almost. it was your first day back and nearly everyone around you was giving you shit and you were exhausted.

“it’s my first day, too. i’m taking it easy,” irene’s velvety voice chimed in out of nowhere, lowered to a volume that could only heard between the two of you, as she gently wrapped a section of hair around the curling wand, “and you should also, especially after everything.”

you were taken aback by the sudden words of wisdom, but realized fast that she was right. “you have a point, um, irene.”

at this point, she had yet to introduce herself and you caught her name from bora, who seemed to already be acquainted with irene’s good reputation as a stylist. the name fumbled a bit off your tongue in your vulnerable state, a bit anxious for a variety of reasons. to your surprise, irene frowned a bit, which was her first display of any emotion the entire time.

“i’ll admit, i had to look into the group that i was going to work for,” irene began and you were prepared to wince at her opinion of the whole hiatus mess, “and i’ve seen you. you’re really strong-minded, why are you letting them get to you?”

“you’ve seen me?” that was the only thing you really focused on for a second, ignoring a flutter in your stomach. flattery was what you thought it was, as you wondered what irene thought of you and your talents.

this conversation was happening as you let the other two assistant makeup artists continuously flicked and dabbed with brushes and sponges on your face in silence. you noticed they didn’t even look at you in the eye, something you had seen many times before in the past. however, this time, you felt as though it wasn’t out of shyness or being starstruck. everyone had been continuously giving you a certain look after your return from hiatus and you only assumed the artists were participating in this cold-shoulder fest, between your manager to netizens to even your own group member. their opinion of you, though, wasn’t as important to you as irene’s opinion.

you caught yourself and cleared your throat. “i mean - well...i don’t know what you’re talking about.” it was a lie right through your teeth.

“chin up,” she commanded once again and you immediately did so, as she approached you with a beautiful strawberry-coloured lip pencil.

you met her eyes as she began carefully carving out the outline of your lips with careful movements. something in you was glad that you got a new stylist and especially more so that she was in charge of you and only you. despite this feeling of welcomeness, you remained confused as to what irene was getting to.

“don’t let them give you shit,” irene replied, as she finished the last touches of your lip liner and had reached over for a matching lipgloss. she leaned over and resume her place right in front of you, still decorating your features with the gentlest of moves.

that was the second thing you ever noticed about irene. from the moment you walked in and met her, you saw that she took absolutely no shit from anyone. that included you, your manager, and anyone else who dared. she stood her ground and did so gracefully. you were instantly envious of the way she held herself.

however, she saw that you could do the same. you smiled a bit and while irene also cracked a bit of a smile, just nearly tugging on the corner of her lips, it quickly turned into a sterner look.

“okay, but i didn’t say move. stop smiling or laughing or whatever.”

time was ticking, as the camera crew wanted to get the good shots in before the forecasted rain began later in the afternoon. everyone was engaged in the hustle and bustle of the day ahead, but for the first time that entire day, you were able to breathe freely and smile. well, smile as much as you could until irene tsked you because you were moving and ruining her vision. this would be the first of many iconic looks that irene would craft for you for the comeback ahead. more importantly, it was the first time you became her muse and she became your rock.

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