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arachine · 1 year

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— ❝on this fateful night...two hearts danced.❞ ˚₊✩‧₊

ᥫ᭡ pairing :: neteyam sully x human! reader

ᥫ᭡ synopsis :: in omaticayan culture, a young na’vi male does not yet become a full fledged adult until he passes one of two rites of passage: 1) choosing an ikran, and 2) carving a bow from the wood of Hometree (and/or choosing a woman). reader is now 20, and the only man she’s ever loved is expected to choose a wife soon. one day when she overhears a rumor concerning neteyam and the first woman in line to betroth him, reader is struck with grief, ultimately venturing off deep into the forest where she knows nobody will follow her—somewhere forbidden. however, unbeknownst to her, a certain someone follows her trail…

ᥫ᭡ genre :: mature

ᥫ᭡ general tags :: 18+ (explicit sexual content, explicit language), angst, fluff

ᥫ᭡ content warnings :: characters aged up to 20, use of alcohol, inebriation, size kink (kinda), vaginal fingering, oral sex (f receiving), male masturbation, overstimulation, riding (no penetration), m/f ejaculation, squirting…i took some things out but i think that’s it?

ᥫ᭡ notes :: what a long week this has been…but we made it! i cannot believe the first thing i post after being on hiatus for months is blue alien sex. anyway, i hope you all enjoy. also, be mindful that the dialogue switches between formal and casual. it’s something that i noticed neteyam and kiri do a lot in the movie. for what reason? idk…but the big font after the read more is intentional bc ik some ppl complain that the small font hurts their eyes :3

ᥫ᭡ word count :: 7.2k

— playlist :: spotify link

“You have been wandering off by yourself a lot lately…”

There goes that attentiveness, you could never put anything past her—Kiri, that is. She was just too good (to a fault), and though her keen eye and emotional intelligence were extremely useful, they were also the most aggravating traits about her.

Now, you could just tell her the truth about the place you’re always wandering off to, and you also could confide in her about the thing that’s been plaguing your mind recently—but you don’t, because you know better.

For a split second, though, you hesitate telling her. The lean girl tilts her head, eyes flitting between your face and the satchel in your hands. Smoothly, you pull the satchel across your body and shift it to rest behind you—out of sight.

Kiri seems to notice your apprehension, and so, she peels her eyes from the bag, offering you her full attention by resuming eye contact once again. If she has even the slightest hunch that you’re hiding something, she doesn’t voice her suspicions.

“Well, I won’t pry, sister. You know that I am always here to listen,” she reassured, reaching out a gentle hand towards your face. You let the tips of her fingers graze your cheek, the warmth of her hand providing transitory comfort.

The two of you exchange sweet smiles before you pull away. It was getting dark, and the longer you stayed here, the harder it’d be to avoid the very thing you were trying to get away from—the very person you were trying to get away from.

“I know, Kiri,” you grabbed her hand, encasing it between your own, “I know…but—I have to go. I promise I’m alright. I’ve just…been doing some thinking, and I think I gotta sort some things out with myself before I can be around the rest of you, you know?”

There’s a silence between the two of you, and you’re not exactly sure if she’s taken offense to what you’ve just said, or if she’s carefully choosing her words. You decide on the latter though, because the last thing you want to do is make her feel as if she’s done something wrong, or if anyone has done something wrong. This was entirely on you; you and your stupid, selfish human heart.

“Yes, I know what you mean,” she replies, squinting her eyes. Again, there’s a silence, but you can tell she still has something to say, like she’s mulling it over. “Will you at least be here tonight? You know, for the big feast? Everyone will be here, even Neteyam,” the girl tsks playfully, shaking her head as she walks circles around you.

Immediately your body stiffens, and she responds to this by teasing you, “Or, I could just save you something…or maybe i’ll ask Neteyam to save you something since he’ll be the most important man tonight.”

“And why would you do that?” the words leave your tongue before you have the chance to process them. It reads rather defensively, but you ignore it. “I mean, why—why ask Neteyam?”

“Because he’s your friend…” kiri pokes you, “because you love him,” she whispers, only this time her voice is a lot more serious, a lot quieter—a whisper. This is when you get that feeling again.

That weird, achy feeling that leaves your stomach in knots and your throat all puffy. The sensation is debilitating—suffocating, and the only way you know how to ease it is by doing what you had set out to do in the first place (though, you were swiftly interrupted).

“Don’t be silly, Kiri,” your smile drops solemnly, “we’re…friends, just friends. Besides, he’s going to be spoken for soon. There are a lot of Na’vi women who would make fine mates…” Your voice decrescendos into the forest night air, the conversation lasting a lot longer than you’d anticipated. To stop your solemn mood from being expressed outwardly, you quickly turn around, looking back once to speak.

“Anyway, I have to go now. I’ll see you later.” Kiri nods and waves bye, her eyes watching as your small frame disappears out of her family’s tent.

A cacophony of voices and music fall on deaf ears as you make your way through the village. The preparation is beginning, but all you can think about is him. Him, him, him.

And ever since you overheard a rumor that Neytiri and Mo’at had chosen the next in line to become tsahik after Neytiri, your heart stopped beating…because you knew. You knew exactly what this meant—the end.

Neteyam was to be a future olo’eyktan, after all. And in Na’vi culture, the future head of the clan and the future spiritual representative were to be betrothed. You knew that, and yet, you couldn’t fathom it. Because then it’d be the end.

The end of your late night rendezvous, the end of your special talks, the end of your banter, and your clandestine glances—your whispers. The ones that were quiet, and innocent…the ones that tingled the shell of your ears. Meant for him and you only.

It was selfish, really. Stupid. You knew the day would come when he’d have to grow up and fulfill his duties as a Na’vi male. Just not this soon though, you wanted to hold onto him a little longer. And if drinking your pain away to preserve those precious memories could do that, then you’d do it.

Lost in your train of thought, you don’t register that you’ve walked yourself right into the heart of a crowd until you bump into a young na’vi child. Apologizing, you then attempt to squeeze through the sea of bodies, tapping lightly on people’s legs until you reach the front. The people were cheering, celebrating the hunters’ return and the game that the Great Mother had graciously given them.

Slowly, hunters had begun pooling in from the forest on direhorseback. Then, they started coming in clusters, all ululating, and pumping their fists in the air while holding their dead game in the other. Your head turned in awe as each hunter rode past you, the energy of the people so contagious that your sour mood was starting to dissipate, even if just a little.

Thinking that was the last of the riders, you begin walking again, but the sound of heavy hooves striking the ground halt your movements. Turning your head back to the trees, you see something moving behind the shrubbery, and then enters none other than the man of the hour: Neteyam. If the people weren’t cheering before, they were definitely cheering now—especially since he’d managed to catch an adult sturmbeest (which was a difficult feat).

The direhorse strides slowly through the crowd, and stops in the centre on Neteyam’s command. Nobody can take their eyes off of him, and neither can you. He just looks so strong, and masculine—like his father, even though he’s the spitting image of his mother. Neteyam puts his hand into the air before he dismounts his horse and ushers the people to settle down, and eventually, they do.

He points to the sturmbeest that his direhorse is carrying back to be prepared. “Tonight, my brothers and sisters…” a pause, “we dance! we sing! we feast!” His words excite the villagers again, uluations so loud that your ears begin to ring. Just as you’re about to turn away, his eyes meet yours—he smiles. And there it is. That achy feeling in your chest.

He wants to say something, reaches his arm out to you as if he were silently telling you to wait up, but then a girl strikes up a conversation with him. At first, you’re not entirely sure who it is—and you shouldn’t even care—but then you do a double take and your heart sinks a little more. It was Tsimandi, the girl rumored to be his betrothed.

From this distance, you can’t hear what they’re talking about, so you watch intently. He’s got his head thrown back in hearty laughter, and she’s touching him—actually touching him, her hands wrapped around his forearm in an attempt to pull him further away.

You think if you stay a second longer you’ll actually become a pile of liquid where you stand, so you take this opportunity to slip away while he’s preoccupied.

When Neteyam looks back, he notices your absence. Squinting, he looks around in search of you, and then he sees what looks like a person disappearing into the thick of the forest. Just what is she doing?

“I apologize, Tsimandi, but I must do something,” he begins backing away, a genuine expression etched onto his face, “I will see you tonight, at the feast!”

“Oh, o-okay,” she mutters but he’s already run off. Neteyam calls for his direhorse and waits at the edge of the forest until it comes running towards him. Before he can mount it and follow you, someone calls out to him.

“And where are you going?” the voice queries, tone laced with suspicion. He recognizes who it belongs to and sighs.

“Nowhere, sir,” he dismounts, meeting his father’s eyes, his mother also accompanying him.

“Yeah, I’d hope so. The people are throwing this feast for you, or have you forgotten?” Jake gives him a once over, eyes still boring into his son.

“No, sir. I have not forgotten,” the boy lowers his gaze in embarrassment.

“Good. Go get ready, knucklehead.”

With each trudge through the forest, you were losing more and more sunlight. You’d walked about halfway to your destination when you remembered the bottle sloshing around in your satchel.

Usually, you waited to drink the liquid there, but you decided given today’s strenuous events, you’d have some now. A reward, you tell yourself. Taking the bottle out of the bag, you lift your mask from your face briefly, twisting open the top and taking a big swig.

No matter how many times you did it, the taste always made you gag. Bourbon—is what they called it. It was equal parts bitter and pungent but it did the trick. Helped you to relax, to forget. The first time you came across it, it was by pure accident.

You’d been somewhere you shouldn’t have been, doing things you shouldn’t have been doing. But one thing led to another, and soon enough, you were inebriated for the first time.

By the time you drink half of your weight in liquor, you reach your destination. The old shack. After what happened with the Sky People, Jake’s first rule as olo’eyktan was to prohibit anyone from entering.

Even being somewhere remotely around the area was forbidden. But you were no stranger to disobedience, you’d come here once with Lo’ak (which was your first time actually).

Though, you didn’t get to explore much because Tuk had spoiled your fun by telling Jake. That day was one of your favorite memories, you think. Jake couldn’t stop yelling at the two of you, but all you could do was laugh. Nothing was really even funny, but you couldn’t help it. Seeing Jake’s eye twitch at your outburst only exacerbated it.

Lo’ak was getting the worst of it, and Neteyam fell victim to Jake’s nagging too for not ‘being there’. After a while, he’d dismissed the bunch of you from his tent and as soon as you were out of earshot, the three of you went into a frenzy of laughter. You think back fondly on those memories, all the ones that include Neteyam, that is.

“God, there isn’t a second when I’m not thinking of you…” you sigh in exhaustion, extending an arm out to open the shack’s door. Reaching in your satchel, you pull out two jars full of glow worms (you’ve found that two jars are enough to light up the shack). Ambling over to your favorite spot, you open a cabinet and reach for another bottle of that bitter liquid you willingly put into your body.

It’s still a wonder to you how well preserved these bottles remained over the years, and you’re pretty sure you’ve heard Norm or someone mention that the older the liquor, the better it tastes (which was a lie, but alas, you down another shot).

“Wooo,” a cough erupts from your throat, “yep, still nasty.”

At this point, the liquor is starting to take effect. Warmth radiates throughout your entire body, and you can feel your limbs gradually getting heavier. Being drunk had to be one of your top three favorite feelings.

It either made you: sad, tired, or giggly (maybe even all at once). But now? Now you were feeling sleepy, so you groggily trudge over to one of the beds in the shack.

As soon as your body hits the plush, a cloud of dust filters through the air. It was incredibly disgusting, but you’d slept in worse places. For now, you would lay here…succumbing to a sweet slumber.

Neteyam had gone home without fuss as promised. Go and get ready. Well, he was doing exactly that now, exchanging his previous attire for that of something more formal. He rolled his eyes and huffed. Sometimes his father could just be a…

“Son of a bitch,” the boy snapped, his frustration reaching its peak. He’d been standing in the tent for about 10 minutes trying to figure out this headpiece his mother had laid out for him, but could not for the life of him figure it out.

Giving up, he throws it to the ground and takes a seat with his head in his hands. Kiri slips in shortly after his outburst, bending to the ground to retrieve the item. Hesitantly, she walks over to her brother.

“If you needed some help, you could have called, brother.” Neteyam lifts his head up from his hands to see Kiri towering over him, his eyes breaking contact with hers as she sits down next to him. There’s a pregnant pause, but it doesn’t last for long because Kiri is already opening her mouth to speak.

“What is troubling you?” She asks, forcing Neteyam to turn his back to her so that she can place the headpiece onto him properly. He inhales deeply, then exhales.

“I do not know…I saw (your name) earlier and…” Kiri hums, encouraging him to continue, “and—she had this strange look on her face.”

“Look? What do you mean? Was she angry? Sad?”

“I have never seen it before, sister. She usually looks happy when she sees me…but this look was different,” his voice is almost inaudible when he finishes. Kiri ponders for a bit, tilting her head as if she were mentally putting the puzzle pieces together.

“How come you did not speak to her?” Kiri makes her final adjustments to the headpiece, ushering Neteyam to meet her eyes.

“I was going to…I tried to, but Tsimandi found me before I could,” he fiddles with his fingers. Kiri takes note of his disposition, and she frowns empathetically. Clearly, whatever was going on with you two was something you had to work out together. This wasn’t like either of you!

“But it was not just today either,” he continues, “she has been distancing herself for awhile, have you noticed?” She laughs at this, nodding her head.

“Yes, she has been acting a little strange lately. I think I might know what is troubling her, brother,” the girl takes his hand into her own. “But I cannot tell you. This is something that concerns only she and you…”

Neteyam squints his eyes in confusion, muttering a ‘what’. His mouth opens to speak but he is swiftly interrupted upon Jake and Neytiri’s arrival. He looks to Kiri for some clarification but all she says is: ‘go, go, you have a feast to attend’, followed with a, ‘find her later’.

“Well? Come on, the people won’t wait for your blue ass all day will they?” Jake teases. Neytiri slaps his arm, scolding him playfully.

“Ah, my son, my beautiful son,” she pads to where he stands, taking his face into her hands. “It is time to go, we must celebrate you.”

Jake nods, flashing a quick wink of approval. Together, they all walk out of the tent and through the village where they’re instantly greeted with colorful luminescence, loud music, and food. All things that have been so generously prepared for him. By the time they make it down to the Tree of Souls, everyone halts their cheering to hear what Jake has to say.

“Tonight we eat,” a pause, “in honor of Neteyam’s mighty victory!” Jake grabs his eldest son’s hand, raising it in the air. “He led his first attack against the Sky People and made it back without any casualties!” A sudden roar of praise erupts from the crowd.

Everyone is chanting his name, and clapping, but even amidst all this praise, he can’t help but to think about you. What does all of this matter if you’re not here to celebrate with him?

You’ve been by his side since the two of you could walk, so where are you now? The thought saddens him, but he can’t wear his heart on his sleeve tonight. Not when there’s so many people here just for him.

“For the past 20 years, my son has always been just a boy to me. But now I realize…he is a man—and he has proven himself in front of the eyes of Eywa,” The former marine glances down at his son, eyeing him in admiration. “Enough talking, let us feast!”

Laughter and songs fill the warm, breezy nighttime air. It’s been about two hours since the celebration commenced, and Neteyam has just about made his rounds to every important family.

He smiles warmly as he looks at the scene in front of him: children playing and dancing by the fireside, putting on elaborate performances for the adults still filling their bellies full of food. Everyone is lively—happy, a testament to tonight’s success.

Mo’at is pleased by this especially, she tells him that ‘this is what the people needed’—you know, to boost morale. At some point, when nobody is watching, he slips away from the party to walk around. Unbeknownst to him, someone has seen him.

“Getting tired?” a voice questions from the shadows. Out comes Kiri, revealing herself from behind a leaf.

“Yes, exhausted actually,” he jokes, disconnecting his braid from his direhorse. “No, but I need to find (your name). She has not come back and it is dark.”

“I figured you would leave early, that’s why I covered your ass and told Dad you were not feeling well,” the feline-like girl smirks.

“Do you have an idea where she might be?”

Kiri takes a moment before answering, “I’m not sure…but for some reason, I have a hunch that she’s at the old shack,” Neteyam furrows his brows in confusion.

“Why do you think she’s there?” he queries, “I mean, it is forbidden.” Kiri offers him a shrug.

“I don’t know but if you’re going to find her, do it now while dad still thinks you’re not feeling well.”

With that, he thanks her for the intel and mounts his horse, disappearing into the thick of the forest. On the way there, his mind conjures up just about every possible scenario that might explain your absence.

Were you upset with him? Did he do something or say something that you didn’t like? He wishes he could just read your thoughts because right now, his heart is pounding so rapidly within the confines of his chest, that he thinks it’ll explode.

This wasn’t like you two, everything was always so easygoing. Being with you was easy, like breathing. But this? His heart couldn’t handle this. Yeah, there’s been some distance between the two of you recently but not due to his own volition—it was duty. If he could spend every second of his life by your side, just being kids, laughing with you, playing with you, he would.

He’s trying to recount these last few days, weeks—months. Trying to pinpoint when exactly things got like this between you…pinpoint when you stopped smiling at him with that smile that made his head all fuzzy, and his heart race like a kid running for the first time.

“Ah, everything’s going to shit, buddy,” he sighs, rubbing the side of his horse, “I don’t know what is wrong.” His mammalian companion grunts empathetically, stopping in its tracks at the edge of the forest when it sees the abandoned link shack. Neteyam doesn’t bother scolding her, because even the animals know that this place is forbidden.

“Alright, I will see you later, okay? Stay here,” he pats her, disconnecting the bond. From this distance, he can see that there seems to be some sort of light illuminating from inside the shack.

That alone already confirms Kiri’s hunch. The closer he gets, the more his stomach feels uneasy. He doesn’t even know why he’s nervous, but he attempts to ease his mind (and body) by telling himself that it’s only you. He’s talked to you one on one hundreds of times, so what’s the difference now?

Noises in the distance rouse you from your ephemeral repose. When you stand up, your head spins with the room, causing you to instinctively reach out for the nearest surface available. Whatever was outside had better be non-threatening, because you were not in the condition to be fighting—let alone standing. When you were drunk like this, you couldn’t even hurt a fly.

“Fuck, I’m gonna have the worst headache soon,” you huff quietly, still aware that there might be someone or something outside. The noise is getting closer, and you’re running out of time to find a hiding spot.

Quickly, you grab the closest thing you can to defend yourself (which is literally a jar of glow worms), and crouch down below the window. When you lift your head just enough to see outside, the makings of a silhouette cloud your vision.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you whisper-yell, tightening your hold on the jar. Lifting your head up again, you notice that the figure is not in the spot it was previously. Then, the knob to the shack twists, and now it’s opening, and—

“(Your name)?”

You pause your attack, slowly dropping your hand (that’s holding the jar) to your side. A flood of relief washes over you once you register who the voice belongs to. Rising from the ground, you open the door fully to see Neteyam standing in the doorway.

“I almost killed you, you know!” you raise the jar, pulling him inside of the shack.

“I think it would take more than a jar of worms to kill me,” he teases. Rolling your eyes, you continue ushering him further inside, leading him to an area where you can sit and talk.

“What…what are you doing here?” you finally ask, folding your arms across your chest. Neteyam towers over you from this height, so he accommodates you by dropping to his haunches.

“I was worried about you,” the boy confesses, “what are you doing here? Why were you not at the feast?” Suddenly, you don’t really feel like talking anymore. Even though the adrenaline from before was still pumping through your veins, so was the alcohol in your system. You’re not so sure you’d be able to keep your composure long enough to answer without exposing your truest feelings. So, you decide on deflecting.

“Aren’t you the man of the hour? I think you should go back to the party before daddy throws a fit. We both know how he gets when his perfect little son isn’t at his every beck and call…” As soon as the words spill from your tongue, you wince. It came out meaner than you meant, and the last thing you wanted was to give him shit for being a caring friend.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—I didn’t mean that,” you apologize, sitting down on the bed. All he does is sigh, but he takes this opportunity to enter your space, gets all close until his body is nestled between your legs.

“I know…I know, but I want you to tell me what’s wrong, hm?” his fingers lift your chin, “so I can fix it.”

“Can’t fix this, ‘Teyam,” a saltine droplet ribbons down your face. Your head is tilted up with his fingers, but you can’t even force yourself to meet his gaze. God, how pathetic did you look right now?

Here you were, inside an abandoned shack, drinking your body weight in liquor…all while a celebration was being thrown in your best friend’s honor. And for what? Because you were jealous? Because you liked him—loved him?

You knew that eventually your relationship would shift. That he’d take on his duties as the future olo’eyktan, and you’d just be his human friend he hangs with from time to time. How stupid could you be to think things would stay like this forever?

“Hey, hey, hey,” he soothes, both hands now cupping your cheeks, “don’t do that. Do not shut me out. We’re not like this, (your name), you used to always talk to me about things.”

Things. You’d talk about things. But those things were not like these things. And if he knew what things you were thinking about, the things that involved him…then you two would never talk about things again.

You’re curious, though. What if you just told him? Just told him about all the days you’ve loved him, all the nights you’ve stayed up thinking of him—all the stars you counted wishing for him? At least then, the burden of keeping such a secret would stop weighing so heavy on your heart.

“I..” a breath, “I heard a rumor.” The boy hums, encouraging you to continue. “I heard your mother has chosen her successor.”

“Is that what this is about? Why does this bother you?”

“Because you know what this means! We both know what this means, don’t be dense, ’Teyam,” you droop your head in sorrow, coaxing him to just lift it back up. Only this time, his hold on your face is a lot firmer. His eyes are fiercer.

“No. I don’t, so just tell me.”

“You’re gonna be the future olo’eyktan, and we both know that the future clan leader and the chosen tsahik are to be betrothed,” you start, “there will be no time for me! No more late night talks, no more exploring, no more secret whispers…I mean, I get it, you have duties to fulfill but…I wanna be selfish a little longer. Can’t I be selfish a little longer?”

You say the last line while meeting his gaze. You’re teary eyed and shaking, but you try your best to keep any semblance of composure you have left intact (though, it’s failing). His expression is indiscernible.

It makes you nervous. Sick. And now you’re forcing yourself not to throw up because…the realization that you just told someone your deepest, truest, most vulnerable feelings makes you physically ill.

“Oh, god, I’m sorry. Forget what I jus—“

“Are you serious? You don’t get it do you?” Neteyam’s head falls forward, a little chuckle slipping past his lips. His hands leave your head and slither down to your hands. He takes them into his own, eyeing you while kissing the knuckles of each.

The act is incredibly intimate, sends white-hot electricity down the column of your spine. Renders you speechless. All you can do is sit there, too scared that if you move or speak, you’ll shatter into a million little pieces.

“I have duties, yes…but my heart is already spoken for. Always has been.”

“What are you saying, ’Teyam,” your head snuggles into the warmth of his hand. You know exactly what he’s saying, but you want to hear him say—

“I see you,” he whispers in your ear, “you are my most beloved.” The warmth of his breath tingles the shell of your ear, it takes the strength of a thousand men to not scream.

But in this moment? In this moment you want to kiss him. You want to kiss him silly, actually, but you quickly remember the thing on your face preventing your lips from connecting with his. There are truly evil forces conspiring against you.

“I want to kiss you,” you admit solemnly.

“Oh, you don’t know how many nights I’ve spent dreaming about kissing you. Too many,” he jokes, “but I’m afraid if we remove this, you’ll die.”

“Then you don’t have to kiss my lips,” a silence, “you can kiss me anywhere you’d like. Anywhere.”

His green eyes flitter between your face and your body, and then his hands are on you, forcing you to lay back against the bed. You lift your head up and lean back onto your elbows, watching through lust-filled eyes as he begins his ministrations.

He starts from the bottom, works his way up real slowly—too slowly. He’s showing restraint, and while you appreciate the fact that he’s worshiping your body like a devoted follower worships their deity, you want him to ravage you. To eat you up until there’s nothing left but bones.

“’Teyam, please…” you breathe out impatiently. Like the cocky-brat he is, he ignores your pleas, only laughing into your skin.

“Shh, be calm.” The plush of his lips trail up the plains and pastures of your body, up your calves, your thighs (he spends the most time there), and then comes to a stop at the crest of your breasts. His fingers fiddle with the cloth covering your chest, lightly tracing the edges that rest just beneath your mounds.

A tease is what he is. And you didn’t have the time for a tease, so you figured you’d help speed up the process by removing it. Sitting up, you untie the makeshift top and let it fall to your lap, smirking deviously as if you’ve done something so naughty.

“Thought I’d help you,” you grin, wrapping your hands around his neck, “Please, no more going slow…I think we’ve been going slow for twenty years, don’t you think?”

And he gets the hint, once again resuming his assault on your body, but this time with more fervor. More urgency. He’s kissing you everywhere, licking wet stripes over your chest, and leaving love bites in the places where he’s kissed you. Right now he’s acting on his most basic, primal instincts—he’s claiming you as his mate—in the only way he knows how to.

The feeling of his hands on your neck, back, thighs and waist send you into oblivion. But then his hands are creeping up to your tits, deft fingers twisting and kneading, and oh god, you’re seeing stars. The addition of his mouth doesn’t help either.

“You’re so,” a kiss, “beautiful,” a suck, “perfect.” Neteyam kneads one breast while his mouth works on another. He plops down onto a pert nipple, using his tongue to draw circles around the area, his saliva acting as a salve.

A moan (that comes out more like a disgruntled sigh) vacates your throat, and his eyes widen in excitement. The sight of his tail swaying in the background makes you giggle. Cute, you think.

Even though what the two of you were doing wasn’t innocent, you couldn’t help but to feel all giddy. Reaching a hand out, you place a gentle palm on the side of his face.

You trace the contours of his nose, his cheekbones, smooth over his jaw, and then stop at his lips. Your thumb grazes them, first the top, then the bottom—learning. Committing them to memory, how they look, feel, and move under your thumb.

Neteyam is unmoving while you continue to run your finger across his lips—save for his hand, which slowly begins traveling south to your thighs. Experimentally, you push your thumb inside of his mouth, pressing the digit down on his tongue before tracing his cat-like canines. This moment is particularly special, because now it’s you who’s doing the admiring.

The free hand that’s not inching towards your core, skillfully removes the loin cloth around your hips. Immediately, he’s met with your bare sex. It’s smooth—wet, so incredibly wet that it has his cock twitching, and his hands eager to touch you. He wants to taste you. Feel you, all of you.

“I—,” a slender finger rubs your slit, “mmf, see you,” you mewl, cupping his cheek. Neteyam’s eyes widen, he wants to hear you make that sound again…and again, and again, and—

The boy repeats the action. Watches your abs flex and tremble from the touch, and your thighs close in on his arm. Using the other hand, he gently pulls them apart and leaves three open-mouthed kisses: one on your inner thigh, one on another, and then a final one at the top of your mound. The heat from his nostrils make you full body shiver; suddenly, being the only one completely bare is slightly bothering you.

“Do not cover yourself. I want to see you,” his hand finds your cunt again, a long finger pushing into you ever so slowly, “…want to hear those sweet sounds again.”

A soft sigh leaves your lips as you watch his digit push further into you, the drag of a knuckle against your slick walls aiding in the pleasure. You can’t help but to wince at the intrusion, because shit, this was a lot more than what you were used to—using your fingers, that is.

You also suppose penetration would be off the table considering humans and Na’vi were never meant to mate, but it doesn’t prevent you from fantasizing about it anyway. How big was it? Did he touch himself? Use his hands and picture yours?

The thought of him hunching over, rubbing one out, all slick with sweat and pre has your head all dizzy. Your mouth is practically salivating at the mental image you’ve conjured up in your head of him fucking your face, but you know it would never fit. There really are evil forces conspiring against you…

Neteyam’s finger reaching the hilt brings you back down to reality. A forceful thrust that coaxes you to gasp sharply and grab his forearm. After patiently waiting for you to adjust to his size, he begins to move. He sets a steady rhythm, pulling out slowly, then pushing back into you with the same velocity.

Eventually, his movements become less hesitated, and more calculated. Instead of steady and slow, he begins increasing the pace of his thrusts, then graduates from speed to incorporating force.

Every delve of his finger, every deliberate drag and prod has fire pooling in the depths of your belly. Squelches and whimpers ricochet off of the metal walls, and fuck, his dick won’t stop twitching.

It’s grown considerably harder in these past few minutes, and all from just hearing you vocalize your pleasure. When the stretch stops feeling like a stretch, and starts feeling like a ‘give me more’, that’s when you encourage him to add another. And of course, he indulges you.

The same time he pushes another finger in, is the same time he starts rubbing himself. He’s not even really aware of it at first, it’s mindless. He’s just so entranced by you, and the sounds you’re making, the things you’re saying, the way your cunt’s sucking in his fingers—

Fuck. He just finished all over himself. He doesn’t let that deter him though, keeps fingering you through his post-orgasm, taking care of you until you come undone on his fingers.

And the sight is amazing, he can’t stop gawking at the way your hole flutters around him, and the nectar-like liquid that drips down the length of his fingers and onto the bed. He wants to taste it.

“Can I taste you?” he asks. You’re in such a daze that the question doesn’t even register, suddenly too preoccupied with breathing like you’ve forgotten how to.

“Huh? Wha—ohhhh.” His tongue licks a long stripe up your slit. He concentrates the tip at the bottom, lapping at the essence that leaks from there, and then circles back to your puffy bud. Experimentally, he prods it with his fingers, rubbing it in tantalizingly slow circles.

The combination of his tongue and his fingers almost feel overwhelming, you feel like a puppet on a marionette with the way he’s maneuvering your legs around for better access. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was a starved man.

His mouth is slick with drool, and his hands are pressing down so firmly onto your thighs, that you’re sure a handprint will be there for you to discover in the morning. His tongue feels so good on you, so nasty.

The picture is obscene, unlike anything you’ve ever witnessed before. But the thing that’s really getting to you are the sounds he’s making. Grunts and groans, expletives and mumbles. ‘So good’, ‘perfect’, ‘beautiful’…it has your head spinning and your fists gripping for the sheets beneath you.

There’s a knot in your abdomen pulled taut like a string of twine. You can feel it twisting and pulling, ready to come undone at the drop of a pin. The more he works on your slit, the more the temperature rises in the shack.

Was the room always spinning? Did your body always run this hot? It feels like you’ve been thrown into a furnace, and the only source of coolness is the wetness that his tongue provides.

“‘M gonna, mmf, ’s too much!” you jab at his hand in an attempt to push him away. He’s relentless though, still sucking harshly, and teasing, ramming his thick fingers up against your gummy walls.

It feels different than when you touch yourself, more intense. Like something’s sitting heavy on your bladder. Then, snap. The string in your abdomen unravels, bringing forth a flood of ecstasy.

“’Teyam!” you sob, back arching to the ceiling. When he pulls his fingers out, a stream of clear liquid seeps from your cunt. He’s awestruck, staring in admiration as your sweat kissed chest rises and falls rhythmically.

“Look, your legs are shaking,” he points, biting down a laugh, “why are they shaking?”

“Oh my god, shut up!” you feign offense, pushing him backwards with a chuckle. He pretends to be wounded, rubbing his back dramatically, ‘oohing’ and ‘owing’ as he does so. When you finally sit up, your eyes naturally fall to his loincloth, a wet ringlet contrasting starkly against the beige textile.

“Hey…” your voice is hesitant, but teetering on the edge of curiosity, “Can I try something?”

The boy silently nods his approval, shifting his position on the ground when you amble over to him. A look of confusion molds onto his face following the events that involve you plopping down onto his lap and laying him down. He goes to speak but you interrupt him.

“Your turn, right? Can’t put it in, but…I can still make you feel good,” you say, tugging on the piece of fabric that separates your sex from his. Eagerly, he removes it for you and lets the item fall haphazardly to the ground.

It’s big, so big—and pretty too. A beautiful blue hue that matches the rest of his body, paired along with a blushing teal tip that’s oozing pre. You want to know what he tastes like on your tongue…

“So pretty.”

Heat rises to his cheeks, and his tail takes an aquiline form, quivering in rapid movements. His usual, over-confident disposition was slowly dissipating under your intense gaze, and you reveled in it by mocking his bashfulness.

“Awe, the little kitty’s shy,” you mock, tickling his side.

“Stop it, I don’t look like those Earth things,” he laughs, pushing your hand away, but to no avail. You continue to dodge his attempts to stop you, tickling him here and there until he accidentally bucks and pulls you down against him. Embarrassingly, you let a whine fall from your lips…still too sensitive down there, you guess.

There’s a shit-eating grin plastered on his face now, you hate it. “Who’s making noises like a kitty now, huh?” With this, he takes the liberty to do it again, pressing you down hard against his length.

The feeling of your bare cunt against him is electrifying, probably (definitely) not better than him being inside you, but the next best thing. This was supposed to be your thanks to him. But now he’s taken full charge—maneuvering you back and forth, gripping and kneading—it’s cruel.

For someone who’s never mated with anyone in his life, he’s sure moving you around like he has. His hands are all over you—thighs, hips, waist, breasts, it’s almost overwhelming. Every touch, addled with the buck of hips, brings forth a new sensation that is better than the last. You think this would be a good way to go out, right on his cock. One last hurrah before the morbid inevitable.

“You f-feel so good, (your name),” his voice is breathy, “r-really good.” Neteyam’s grip on your arms is vice, partly because he can feel his climax approaching, but mostly because he can tell you’re growing tired.

Swiftly, he changes your positions to where you’re laying on your back and he’s crouching over you. The tip of his head smoothes over your folds when he pushes up, and before he draws back, you can see just about where his dick would rest if he were inside of you.

“I’d be all the way up here,” he presses down just beneath your breastbone, “you’re so tiny.” It sounds so dirty, but you know ultimately he’s just making an observation—regardless, the comment has your stomach churning in excitement.

The both of you watch in fascination as he sheathes himself up and over your cunt, moaning in unison when the tip of his mushroomy head catches against your bud. Euphoric, he thinks. He never imagined that something could feel this good, let alone without connecting bonds.

Still sensitive from earlier, it doesn’t take too long for you to reach your peak. Neteyam knows that your arrhythmic breathing is a tell-tale sign, and he helps you get there by cooing words of encouragement.

He goes back and forth between ’I got you’s and ‘it’s okay’s, leaving trails of kisses down your body in his wake. The second you finish, you’re pulling him down onto you tight. Moaning and whining into his ear, whispering those same words of encouragement that he whispered to you prior.

“So good, ‘Teyam,” you claw at his back, “keep going, want you to feel good too.” And he does. Unrelenting in his attack against your sex, he comes with a few more pistons.

You eagerly welcome him into your arms when he drops from exhaustion, and hold him there until your erratic breaths synchronize. The both of you are disgustingly sweaty and sticky, but even so, you feel at peace.

You bask in the tranquil quietness of the night, just staring at each other. Soft caresses and soothing hums. Then, Neteyam speaks.

“On this fateful night, two hearts danced…” he whispers, grabbing your hand to hold it over his heart.

“What does this mean?” you smile at him. He ponders over it and then explains.

“My songcord…I want to tell this story,” he starts, “the night when two hearts became one.”

A crystal droplet cascades down your face, “that sounds beautiful.”

#neteyam x reader #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam sully x reader smut #lo’ak x reader #lo’ak x reader smut #avatar x reader #avatar x reader smut #neteyam smut #avatar the way of water #atwow #awow #avatar smut #avatar the way of water smut

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seelestia · 17 days

Text

✦ how can you tell? (of how easily i fall at your feet.)

⎯ oh, how love bleeds from just one gesture. ( some telltale signs that they might've fallen for you. )

#STARRING. neuvillette, wriothesley & lyney ft. gn!reader. { 2.4k words }

#TAGS. sfw, fluff & crack, major pining (!!!). more: neuvi has 1 extra part bcs i realized too late, wrio is a rascal /aff, lynette is a professional wingwoman here (everyone, applaud!!), mentions of various fontaine npc's.

#P/S. pardon my rusty writing and ideas but alas, may i entice you with some fontaine gentlemen on this fine day?? (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) ੭

★ 〜 masterlist.

⎯ neuvillette's love is subtle, hidden behind a veil of formal courtesy. the iudex is the nation's symbol of impartiality; personal relationships, a common factor of inciting bias in one's judgement, are to be sifted through wisely. he can choose which he ends up keeping, yet he cannot choose which he ends up wanting. what of a relationship he desires but cannot keep? a conundrum but still, his affections for you seep through the crevices.

it's in the way. . . your name becomes a beloved among the melusines, you wonder why?

it goes without saying that every citizen of fontaine acknowledges melusines to be friendly creatures. all of them are sweethearts! ...but is it you or is there some form of hidden favoritism here?

for some reason, they always seem to go out of their ways to greet you on the streets. a “hello, mx. [name]!” from the right then a “good day, mx. [name]!” from the left. maybe a “stay safe, mx. [name]!” on days when it's crowded too... you're starting to think the quota of greetings you receive is much bigger than everyone else.

before long, even your arms are getting piled up with favors. one ticket for a seat in the opera epiclese from aeife, a slice of cake from sedene, some high-quality butter from muirne, a free beverage from menthe — you lost count of the freebies you've received already.

what's going on? it is as if there's a badge of approval from someone just hanging over your head. visible to a melusine's eyes, but not to yours. (you've heard that melusines perceive things differently than humans, though.)

but who are you to complain? you're not immune to their contagious smiles each time you pass by. on some days, you even entertain the thought that they are more familiar with you than you are with them. all in a humorous sense, of course.

ironically enough, this theory wouldn't take long to ring true: having received a bouquet of your favorite dessert from café lutece on your birthday from kiara, this coincidence only feeds into your suspicion even more.

a considerate gesture but surely, they don't do this for everyone? you don't recall ever telling your usual order and birthdate to a melusine before. your mind scrambles around for a memory you might've missed. who could've—

“oh, yes... i almost forgot,” kiara holds her chin in thought. “monsieur neuvillette says to send you his regards,” she nods, relieved that the message did not make its narrow escape from her mind. but blissfully unaware of the impact her words have left on you.

“goodbye, mx. [name]!” the melusine bids you farewell with a cheery wave. you murmur back a response but it comes out incoherent at best — you are simply too dumbfounded by the realization.

...so, that's who.

(wait a second, is arouet in on this too?!)

it's in the way. . . he begins to take longer breaks, hoping to run into you in front of the palais.

taking quiet strolls just outside the palais is, more often than not, neuvillette's idea of rest from work. although some might expect the iudex to have chosen a more 'creative' or luxurious location, but he digresses.

this place is near his office so less time is wasted on the journey back, liath also patrols here so he has the opportunity to inquire about her well-being — and occasionally, he stumbles upon you as well.

'occasionally' is the keyword: neuvillette has always preferred order and routine above chances and coincidences. but something about this idiosyncrasy — the tendency to linger beyond his usual duration, the act of stalling to hold onto hope that you might pass by today — is a indication of hypocrisy he wishes not to comment on.

sometimes, he closes his eyes so that his ears may be more attuned to the sound of your voice. sometimes, he opens his eyes so that they may look around for a glimpse of your face. who's to say if he'll ever be graced by your presence? it is all in fate's hands.

call it an odd method of manifestation, a childish one that even neuvillette scoffs at himself for. sometimes, it doesn't work, of course. not that he ever expects it to — but oh, when it does.

“...monsieur?” your voice cuts through the silence in his mind. he takes the sight of you in; a polite greeting on your tongue, several grocery bags in your arms and that beam on your face as you say, “what a coincidence to see you here.”

the iudex finds that he doesn't mind having his privacy briefly interrupted. not at all. not when it's like this, not when it's by you. alas, it seems that fate has smiled down on him today.

“yes, hello. what a serendipitous coincidence indeed.”

neuvillette smiles, he can't help it. perhaps, he might grow a soft spot for coincidences, after all.

(you sneak a brief glance at the sky with a squint. ...is it just you or are the clouds clearing up a little?)

⎯ wriothesley's love is beguiling, the kind of adventure that keeps you on your toes. a forthright gentleman; he is the type to know what he wants and he wants you. with him, you'll taste whiplash like never before. butterflies in your stomach, the urge to throw a shoe at him, you'll get it all. but an adventure isn't an adventure without breaks in between and it's at that very moment where you'll find you adore him the most... when he rests his head on your lap, momentarily free from worldly titles, breathing like the man who longs for warmth that he has always been.

it's in the way. . . he always offers you tea when really, he just wants you to stay.

everyone knows that wriothesley enjoys his tea — but that's only because he sees no need to hide his preferences; not his craving for a cup of tea when afternoon arrives nor his fondness for you either.

he doesn't conceal it, but doesn't bring attention to it either. wriothesley likes to think that only those with discerning eyes can pick up on the miniscule (???) hints he drops. that is, if saying “why not stay for some tea?” is even considered a subtle clue at all... maybe, he's mixing up polite courtesy with flirting a bit too much.

but who cares? in the grand scheme of things, the fun is seeing whether you'll figure it out or not. and let's be frank here; wriothesley is a patient man in all aspects, able to play the long game like no other.

don't worry, you may take as long as you want to — ironic since you're technically the only player in this 'game' — but hey, he has faith in your abilities! besides, you get to enjoy a cup of free tea (and with his company, preferably). surely, you can't complain about that? ...hah, he's just teasing you.

tick-tock! tick-tock!

the clock strikes twelve in the afternoon.

“ah, finally a well-deserved break.” the tone in which wriothesley pairs with that grin on his face is nothing less than devious. the glance he throws your way as he set aside the documents on his desk is something. or rather, it's suggesting something.

and frankly, you've experienced this many times enough to know what the underlying meaning is. “let me guess...” you let out a sigh, “you're asking me to have tea with you again?”

the emphasis on the last word is definitely, wholly intentional. you're sure wriothesley knows that too — “bingo,” he hums at you, sounds almost like a whistle. “you're getting more and more clever. must be all the tea i made you.”

“don't flatter yourself,” you roll your eyes at his attempted jest but you take a seat on his office couch, anyway. your own unique and adorable way of saying yes, he learned. still, wriothesley thinks that exasperated look on your face is an absolute marvel... and maybe, that little smile tugging on your lips you're trying to fight, too.

“same as usual?” he asks, pushing back his chair with a proud grin still plastered on his face that you wish you can wipe off.

but instead, you shake your head fondly at his antics. “mhm,” and rest a cheek on your fist. watching him tiredly, you realize you could get used to this. maybe.

wriothesley smiles to himself. looks like you figured out the tea has always been an excuse, after all.

(you've won the game, congrats! a subsidiary reward is a comment from sigewinne about how this tea routine between the two of you bears a resemblance to an elderly human couple's. she means it, innocently sincere.)

⎯ lyney's love can be faceted at first, one with such a smooth surface that you never imagined there would be so many layers underneath. joy and bliss, sorrow and burdens; all cramped and stuffed together behind his mask of perfection on the stage, a mask akin to a child's treasure chest almost bursting at the seams. you can unravel him if you tried, you can take off that mask if you reached out. and when you do, you'll find beautiful violet eyes staring right back at you, thankful, imploring you to go further.

it's in the way. . . his bravado dissipates around you, nerves scattering like confetti that bursts from his hat on stage.

they say that the first impression is the best impression — or at least, lyney hopes that's the case with all of the interesting impressions he has left on you so far. his instinct by nature is to impress, to bedazzle and that hasn't stopped since meeting you for the first time.

trying doesn't always lead to success, however. you stuttered in front of them twice, lynette pointed out after the first time he spoke to you. that fact spooked the poor magician so much he stayed up rethinking the conversation under the cover of his blanket. lynette isn't wrong per se, but lyney firmly believes that he will leave a better impression... one day, somehow, no matter how many times it takes!

he is a magician; charisma and charms should have or rather, already have come easily to him. his persona on the stage is no lie — just a tiny concerted exaggeration, maybe — but you've been among his audience before. you've seen what he is capable of. so surely, you'd know that lyney isn't really as demure and easily flustered as you might think he is... because no punches held back, he acts like that every time you talk to him.

he can't help it and that, exactly, is what makes it worse.

how many times have he cupped his face and mumbled nonsense into his hands for failing to impress you yet again? you're so wonderful and he's just so... miserable. this is unlike him. he has to wonder why you still look for him after each performance when you know you'll be greeted by his being a wreck.

maybe they like you that way, freminet tried to help. or maybe they like you no matter what, lynette chipped in. that had lyney pondering for a long, long, long time which translates into weeks.

will the day come where he presents you with a rainbow rose and professes his feelings for you without losing his nerves? he can only hope (and try, one day).

it never gets old.

when his feet step off the stage and the curtains have fallen, the satisfaction that spreads all the way to his fingertips never fails to disappoint. but with that, also comes the imminent feeling of anticipation.

for each performance he delivers, a visitor is bound to linger. when all members in the audience would head to the entrance of the opera epiclese to leave, one of them would stay. waiting patiently to be beckoned to the backstage. it's been a routine for so long, after all.

“lyney?”

right on cue.

your voice greets his ears, a sound that he can admit he misses only to himself. he exhales, a placating act to shush his beating heart from growing any louder.

“ah, [name]!” the magician enunciates your name with a certain type of fanfare. “here to lend a hand again, i assume?” he tries to shoot you a confident grin, but you aren't gullible enough to not see the tint of red blooming on his cheeks.

you stifle a chuckle at his (attempt at a) bold opening. “of course,“ said with a nod and a silly thought along the lines of: he's cute.

your honest and calm response takes him by surprise. he blinks a tad. oh, it seems the thrill from the show a few minutes prior still hasn't worn off. perhaps, he's still all too used to the crowd's shouts and cheers... not that he expects you to start yelling, of course!

“i see,” lyney feigns a cough to recollect his composure. now that he is cognizant of the fact it's just the two of you, he shrinks down into a more casual version of himself with a nervous chuckle.

“will you... be staying for long?” he asks, bashful. the question sounds more genuine than just a mere pleasantry. his eyes look hopeful, twinkling at the thought of having your presence around. his fingers have even come up to scratch at the side of his neck, you don't think lyney even realizes he is doing that.

who are you to say no? you smile. “well, my schedule's pretty empty today.”

his lips instantly break into a grin, brighter than one he usually has onstage. “that's actually marv—” he starts.

“that's great,” a familiar monotonous voice cuts in. lynette peers from behind you with a hum, “we could use more hands to pack up the new props.” oh, and that brief glint of mischief in her feline eyes as she watches how lyney gapes at her sudden intrusion.

“sure!” you glance back at her, oblivious to it all. “thanks for letting me in, lynette. i'll try my best to help.” even if you admit that one of the reasons you're here is for lyney, but you can't discredit his twin sister for allowing you to enter here in the first place. a free backstage pass in exchange for free labor, quite a fair deal.

with your back turned to him, lyney takes the chance to mouth his own words of disbelief to lynette. incomprehensible except for that one i can't believe you're doing this! that she manages to catch.

“no problem,” she observes her brother over your shoulder with keen interest, “everyone knows how fond lyney is of you.”

there is a series of spluttering noises behind you. a certain magician finds himself at the verge of choking on mere oxygen.

“lynette!”

but really, she has no doubt that lyney has fallen head over heels for you. hook, line and sinker.

— thank you for reading! reblogs and comments are most appreciated. ♡

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #wriothesley x reader #lyney x reader #neuvillette x you #wriothesley x you #lyney x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact hcs #genshin impact x you #genshin imagines #seelestial.inks

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janaispunk · 1 month

Text

no one has to know what we do

chapter 2 • series masterlist

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: Try as you might, Dave and you can’t stay away from each other.

word count: 4.4k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad sucks), able-bodied reader, reader has hair that Dave pulls, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, unprotected p in v, fingering, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, spanking, sooooo many pussy slaps (don’t look at us), pet names, let me know if anything is missing!

a/n: co-written with my love @joelscurls, who unfortunately couldn’t write this entire chapter the way we had originally planned, so you’re stuck with me again. if you notice that some parts are better written than others, those are most likely hers haha <3 this is lowkey my favorite thing that i’ve ever put out, and i hope you like it as much as i do 🤍

follow @joelscurlsupdates and @janaispunknotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

The phone feels like a paperweight in your hand. It’s late — you should be sleeping, but you know it’s useless to even attempt shutting your eyes. It’s too loud in your head right now — that promise of just one time blaring: a warning. Still, you can’t help but consider ignoring it, texting David and begging to see him again.

It’s probably a bit pathetic, yearning for a man who made it clear he wanted nothing to do with you beyond a one night stand. Daydreaming about the timbre of his voice, the stretch of his cock. Getting his phone number from your father, who’s none the wiser. Your father, who is asleep in his own room just down the hall. Being home for the summer has never felt like such a burden.

Guilt eats at you as your fingers hover over the screen, David’s contact front and center. It would be so easy to send him a text right now, let him know you’re thinking about him. About the other night. But your conscience reins you in. Your father’s face flashes behind your eyes — rage and disappointment painting his features scarlet, and you drop the phone beside you on the mattress with a huff.

It’s difficult to even imagine the inevitable severity of his reaction if he ever found out. He’d probably cut you off, the revelation of you whoring around with his friend — and the possibility of this news getting out, tarnishing your family’s pure reputation — more than enough for him to disown you.

You hate him sometimes. Hate the life he’s forced onto you. You’re not even interested in studying law — not really. You never had a choice, though. It was determined before you even graduated high school that you’d follow in your dad’s footsteps. And as long as he’s funding your studies, your future, you have no right to complain. This is the life you should want. The life everyone wants. He reminds you of that fact regularly. Him, and his countless snooty club buddies.

But David — David is refreshing.

He doesn’t come from old money. He doesn’t pinch your cheeks and talk around you rather than to you, declarations of you must be so proud aimed at your father as you stand awkwardly to the side. You’re pretty sure he’s the first person outside of your professors to really look at you, take interest in anything you have to say in… god knows how long.

You can still feel his eyes boring into you. The subtle but tactful brush of his leg against yours under the table. The exhilaration that had thrummed in your veins. He’d made you feel something. You’d almost forgotten you could feel anything apart from stress and agitation. And as you lay in bed, mind swimming with arousal and impending remorse, you fear you may not be able to control yourself much longer, consequences be damned.

He’s not expecting you to reach out.

Why would you? You’d mutually agreed on that night in his car being a one time thing — just a hookup; something he would’ve done before meeting Carol. Something he should probably be doing more often now. Except you’ve somehow sunk your teeth in him, injected him with a sort of venom.

Because all he can think about is seeing you again.

It’s wrong — beyond wrong. You’re so young; still in college, for christ sake. He never met you before the other night, but he’d been stationed overseas with your father when your mother was pregnant with you. He still remembers reading the letters she’d sent in care packages over his shoulder, the ones detailing her symptoms, what foods she was craving.

Strawberries. She always wanted strawberries. Maybe that’s why you’re so sweet.

He’s never been with a woman like you; never had someone trust him with so much vigor. Your needy little pleas, your vehement obedience, your desperation to take all of him in the driver’s seat of his car — you are nothing short of intoxicating.

Still, he tells himself you’re off limits. Trudges through the days that follow with the thought of you bouncing in his lap fogging his head. Struggles to focus at work and recovers in an increasingly poor manner when called on in meetings.

And then, late on a Friday night, you text him.

He only knows it’s you because you tell him so — your full name flashing across the screen followed by an apology for messaging him so late. You say you’re out with friends, and he’d probably have guessed anyway by the typos littering your sentences.

Seconds after the first, another text comes through:

[1:23am] csnt stop thinking about u. pls see me again i promise i won’t twll anyone

Fuck. Fuck.

His muscles tense; his cock twitches in his boxers. And before he does something stupid, like responds, he sets the phone face down on his bedside table. Stalks off to the bathroom with the intention of taking an icy-cold shower, detoxing himself best he can.

He hasn’t even closed the door yet when he hears it ring.

The rhythmic jingle drones through his studio apartment, and he all but leaps at the noise. Sure enough, it's you, calling him drunk in the middle of the night.

His head swims. He presses ‘answer’ anyway.

“David?” Your voice sounds so sugary-sweet, cloying with innocence. He can hear people in the background, maybe your friends, talking about getting another round of drinks.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asks first. You tell him yes; say you're waiting on a rideshare.

He exhales. And even though hearing you is making him dizzy with a fucked up sort of desire, echoes of your pleasured sounds ringing in his ears, he manages to maintain composure when you say, “can I please come over?”

“Don't think that's the best idea,” he mutters. The lack of conviction in his words would likely be painfully obvious if you weren't intoxicated. But you are, and you whine through the receiver at his rejection.

Dave fights to ignore the increasing stiffness in his boxers.

“Please,” you beg. Fuck, he loves the way you sound when you beg. “I just got off the phone with my dad…he doesn't want me coming home so drunk; said he's working on a case and I’ll be a nuisance.”

His heart breaks for you. For the girl who just wants a father who loves her, who sees her as a person with feelings. Dave can't imagine ever treating his daughters this way. Would never dream of it.

“C-can I?” your voice sounds through the speaker again — softer, less sure. Like you've prepared yourself already for the blow of him rejecting you too.

“Can't– can’t you stay with one of your friends?”

You sigh, defeated. “I want to stay with you.”

It’s not that he doesn’t want to. God, it would be so easy to say yes. To go and pick you up from the bar himself, bring you back to his place. Help you sober up a bit and fuck you until you can't take it anymore. But he can’t; he shouldn't even be speaking to you right now. He needs to cut this off. Needs to make it clear to you that you can't reach out to him again.

“You– we can’t.” He’s stern, direct. It pains him. “The other night shouldn’t have happened.” True, though he doesn’t regret it. Not one bit.

You’re quiet on the other end of the line for a second too long. When you finally do speak again, your voice breaks.

“You don’t like me?”

He’s going to tell you that of course that’s not it, that he’s been thinking about you constantly, that he wishes he could get you out of his fucking head. But he doesn’t get the chance. Because your friends are laughing boisterously around you, then, sounds growing more and more muffled through the speaker, and you’re telling him rather unceremoniously that you have to go.

The call disconnects with a beep.

You wake the following morning with a dizzying headache, daylight burning a hole between your eyes. With your friend still soundly asleep, you slip out of her room and then her apartment; find yourself home just as your father is getting ready to leave for work.

His travel mug sits on the entrance table as he pulls his shoes on, and you're immediately met with the smells of coffee and his leathery cologne.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” he mutters as he grabs his briefcase. You don't dare look him in the eyes, lest you be met with their disapproving stare.

“Hi,” you reply, small and non confrontational. When he doesn't answer, you continue past him, begin your ascent up the stairs toward your room.

“Not very appropriate for a young professional, going out and getting wasted. Your future employer could've been there. Could've seen you acting like an imbecile.”

Annoyance furls behind your temples; makes the pounding in your head grow tenfold.

“Well then they probably won't be my future employer,” you snip.

“Probably not.”

You hear the front door close behind you and, with an agitated sigh, drag your feet the rest of the way up the stairs. You fall onto the covers of your bed, well aware that you should probably shower, but your body feels too heavy, in no way ready to move again just yet.

When you pull out your phone, ready for some mindless scrolling to numb your thoughts for a while, you’re met with a notification that sends your heart racing.

Have fun last night?

From David, sent five minutes ago.

You hastily scroll up, reading your own texts from last night, full of typos and barely coherent. csnt stop thinking about u. Your head falls back with a groan. You had gone out to forget about him, not to drunkenly confess your feelings to him in the middle of the night.

Now that you’re thinking about it, you also vaguely recall speaking to him. You tap on your call log and sure enough, there’s his name, only minutes after you texted him. You have no idea what you might have said to him, only a blurry memory of being upset about something. Great, this is great.

Sighing deeply, you go back to messages.

i was very drunk. sorry for bothering you

His reply comes almost instantly.

Who said you bothered me?

You’ve only met him once, and yet you can picture his smirk as if you’ve seen it a thousand times.

Dave is sipping his coffee, black, no sugar, and listens to Jim going over his plans for the both of them going golfing next weekend, humming occasionally.

It pains him, looking at the man in front of him, while your voice from last night is still ringing through his head. How hurt you sounded, looking for a place to stay, not being welcome in your own home.

When Jim stands up to leave for work, he remains seated, gesturing towards his half eaten bagel, but assuring the other man that he doesn’t have to wait for him.

You still haven’t left his thoughts. If anything, the longing he feels for you has gotten worse since you told him how much you want to see him again. And he’s so tired of denying himself the one thing he really wants.

He’s patient, chipping away at the bagel until he sees your father’s gray Dodge peel out of the parking lot. And then he gives it another 10 minutes, just to be safe.

Come join me for coffee? I’m downtown at Roasted Beans.

You respond moments later — such an obedient little thing, you are — letting him know you’ll be there shortly. He finishes off his drink, discards the cup along with the bagel wrapper, and orders two fresh coffees.

He sees you before you see him. Eyes wide, lips parted ever so slightly, you look so cute as you scan the cafe. You’re wearing a sundress, the blue fabric dancing around your thighs with every turn of your body, and Dave finds himself entranced by you.

You smile when you finally catch sight of him, your entire face lighting up and he smiles back without a second thought.

You shouldn’t meet him again. You really, really shouldn��t. But the conversation with your father this morning keeps replaying in your head, the disapproval weighing heavy on you, the feeling of being unable to do anything right.

You long for someone to look at you without judgment, for the sound of good girl against your skin. You long for David.

After last night and the fact that he obviously didn’t invite you over, you had thought that for him, maybe it really had been a just one time thing. Like you both had agreed on multiple times.

But then he’d texted you again, asking you to meet him. It’s almost embarrassing, how quickly you got ready, eager to see him again, despite knowing better.

On the drive over, you run through countless discussions in your head, trying to decide what you’re going to say to him. You have to be reasonable. There’s too much at stake. David is a mistake that you wouldn’t be able to come back from. You’re just going to meet him because he asked you to, because that’s the nice thing to do. It’ll just be coffee, nothing more.

Your resolve crumbles as soon as you see him. His eyes are already on you, their expression so full of want that it makes you ache. You walk over, feigning confidence as you slide onto the chair next to his, a quiet greeting on your lips. The deep, smooth sound of his voice when he returns it is enough to make you melt.

He has already ordered for you. It’s a small thing, rationally, but it’s once again more care, more attention than you’re used to. Warmth is spreading through your chest, but you try steeling yourself, forcing out the words that you’ve prepared to say.

“Listen, I want to apologize about last night. I shouldn’t have– I wasn’t thinking straight, I’m sorry for bothering–”

“Hey, sweetheart.” He interrupts your nervous stuttering, his hand gently wrapping around yours on the table. “I already told you that you didn’t bother me. If anything–” He sighs, his grip tightening. “I’m the one who’s sorry, you were looking for somewhere to stay, I shouldn’t have turned you down like that.”

It breaks Dave’s heart, seeing how you’re making yourself smaller, how ready you seem for him to scold you. Your quiet You don’t like me? still echoes in his mind. How your own father didn’t care where his daughter spent the night, as long as she didn’t come home. Didn’t bother him.

He clocked the way your eyes widened in surprise at the coffee that he got you, how you huff a relieved breath when he assures you again that he’s not annoyed with you. You’re so sweet, so deserving of being loved and cared for, and he so desperately wants to be the person who does that for you.

He felt the same pull from that night towards you as soon as he laid eyes on you again, and it’s only gotten worse, now that you’re right next to him, now that he’s touching the soft surface of your hand. He vividly remembers how your skin felt under his fingertips, how you writhed against him.

The urge to get just a taste of that again becomes overwhelming. He holds your gaze as his fingers start gliding over your thighs under the table, inching towards the hem of your dress. Your lips part, the softest whimper escaping your throat at his touch.

He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t be touching you like this, shouldn’t be thinking about you like this. Can’t stop thinking about you. I want to stay with you. How is he supposed to keep away, to stop himself, when you come to him so willingly, so desperate to be wanted?

“David?” Fuck, he loves that you call him that. “Will you take me home with you? Please?”

He can tell that you’re scared to ask, bracing yourself to be rejected again. He’s not nearly as strong as you think he is.

“Yes. Come on.”

He pulls you to your feet and out of the door before either of you have the chance to change your minds.

He’s a bad man, shouldn’t be getting off on having total control over you like this. He’s probably sick; should see that shrink Carol recommended a couple months ago after the divorce was officially finalized. But the way you’re looking at him — with the same big-eyed, doleful stare you’d given him that first night — tells him you want this. Need this, even. You long to relinquish control to someone other than your hawkish father.

So pliant in his lap, limbs all gooey and relaxed under his touch, it’s clear that you trust him. Maybe more than he trusts himself.

You’re spread out on his couch, clothes hastily discarded as soon as the both of you stumbled over the threshold, already entangled in each other. He’s led you to the living room, the thought of fucking you in his bed, of your presence lingering there, your scent permeating his sheets, the last invisible line that he’s determined not to cross.

He has been toying with your body, collected your wrists in a hold over your head and told you to keep them there while he flicked and tugged on your nipples, sucked marks into your skin while you writhed underneath him.

He’s taking it slow, now that you’re here with him, now that he has the time to thoroughly break you down and put you back together again.

You’re already soaked when he sinks a finger into you, your tight walls clenching around him immediately. You coo up at him — a needy little noise that has his resolve disintegrating in seconds flat — and you look relieved when his hand loosely wraps around your throat.

“Please,” you whisper then, and he tuts.

“You want me to take care of you?”

You nod.

“Then you take what I give you. No begging. Do I make myself clear?”

Another noise — this one smaller, stuck in your throat — and he’s pulling his finger out of you again, lips curling into a cruel smile.

He doesn’t give you any time to prepare before the first slap lands on your already-throbbing clit. You can’t help but shriek. In response, he tightens the grip on your throat slightly. Gives three more stinging smacks in quick succession. Dave almost doesn’t notice when your eyes begin to roll back. He does notice, however, when your hips begin to roll upward, your body chasing his hand.

“Oh, such a good girl you are,” he praises.

Slap.

“You love this, don’t you?”

“Mhm,” you moan, garbled and a little breathless.

Slap.

“Pathetic little girl. Bet you could come just from this, you’re so desperate. Couldn’t you?”

You gasp.

Slap.

“Answer me,” Dave demands. “Or I’ll stop.”

It’s almost comical how quickly you sputter the word yes, eyes desperately pleading with him to keep going. And he’s almost shocked just how badly you needed this. In this moment, any guilt he’d been feeling is replaced with the desperate desire to give you exactly what you crave.

He slaps you again, a little harder this time, and you wail. Your legs are trembling, but you make no move to close them, keeping yourself spread wide open and accessible for him.

He’s throbbing, fighting the urge to sink his cock into your tight heat, but he wants, needs to know how far he can push you. How far you’ll go for him.

You’re dripping onto his cushions and he collects some of your slick with his fingers, rubs them against your clit. Your skin is burning under his fingertips. He teases the oversensitive nub with gentle touches, relishes in the way your eyes are glued to his face, the way your lips are trembling as you’re silently pleading with him.

No words are escaping you, and you’re so good, making him so proud with how you’re following his commands.

He slaps your clit again, and again, and again, until you’re a babbling mess, your throat constricting against his grip and your back arching as you come with a cry. Wetness floods out of you and you’re shuddering in his hold, broken whimpers of his name falling from your lips.

He watches with sick fascination, almost unable to believe that he drove you to this point. How much you enjoy being treated like this. That you’re just as twisted as he is.

When you come down, your arms weakly reach for him and he scoops you up, pulls you into his lap until your face is nuzzled into his neck.

“Good girl,” he coos, gently stroking your hair, “you did so good.”

He gives you a few moments to rest, tracing shapes across your back, until his fingers dip deeper, gliding over your ass and between your spread legs, where you’re still so fucking wet.

You squirm under his touch, needy little sounds traveling up to his ears once more. “Please,” you whisper.

One hand grabs into your hair, pulling your head back until he can see your face. You look wrecked. Pupils blown wide, your eyes wet with tears, but what really gets him is the way you look at him. He had worried, for a second, that he might have been too rough, but there’s only pure trust and longing in your eyes.

“I thought I told you no begging.”

You bite your lip, furrow your brow in that adorable way of yours. “I’m sorry. It just– it all feels so good.”

He presses his thumb down on your bottom lip, releasing it from your teeth.

“I know it does, sweetheart. You need more?”

You nod quietly, your eyes wide and pleading.

“Alright then.” He turns you over so quickly that you gasp, scrambling for a second to get your bearings. You’re on all fours, your legs still spread, your ass on display for him.

He had wanted to prepare you a little more, to give you several of his fingers first before he stretches you out on his cock, but he can’t possibly hold back any longer. Judging from the loud moan that you let out, he thinks that you like the sting of him sinking into you unprepared.

It’s even better than he remembers, your slick walls engulfing him so tightly. He starts pounding into you, the depth of his thrusts jolting your body forward and forcing more sounds from you.

He wants you to still feel him tomorrow, wants you to remember him, wants to stake a claim that he knows he doesn’t have. He groans your name, his fingers digging into your hips, greedy for every part of you that he can reach.

Perfect, you’re so fucking perfect, giving yourself to him like this.

“Come on,” he growls, reaching down to find your clit again, rubbing in tight circles. “Give me another one.”

You cry out, pushing back against him. So fucking eager. He lands two quick slaps on your ass and you fall apart, trembling wildly as your walls pulse around him and you scream out his name.

He can’t hold himself back any more and follows you over the edge, pumping into you once more and holding your hips pressed against his.

You both collapse down onto his couch, a mess of tangled, sweaty limbs and quick breaths. You curl your body into his and he presses kisses against your cheeks, your temples, your lips.

Slowly, as he’s coming back to his senses, the guilt settles in.

He lets go of you much too quickly, stands up and starts getting dressed quietly. You watch him for a moment, wracking your mind for something to say, before he looks at you.

“Get dressed. I’ll drive you home.”

He sounds cold, distant. So different from the man who just took you to heights that you didn’t know existed until now. You suppress a shiver and get up hastily. Suddenly, being naked around him feels much too exposed, too vulnerable for your liking.

You pull your dress over your head and slide your shoes back on, but one crucial item is missing.

“Did– did you see my underwear?” you force yourself to ask. He shakes his head, not gracing you with a verbal answer.

Eventually, you give up the search and follow him down the stairs and into his car. The silence grows, until its weight is pressing down, almost suffocating you. You steal glances at him, but his eyes are fixed on the road, staring straight ahead, never wavering. A muscle in his jaw is ticking.

The mix of his spend and yours is pooling between your legs, but it makes you feel dirty now. You force down the lump that’s building in your throat.

When he stops in front of your house, you scramble out of the car without a word. You don’t know what would be worse, if he said goodbye like nothing was wrong or if he remained silent. You don’t want to find out.

It’s late in the evening, you’re lying on your bed, eyelids squeezed shut, willing sleep to finally overtake you. Thoughts keep spiraling through your head, so many questions that you have no answers to.

He asked you to meet up, for fuck’s sake. You don’t understand why he’s treating you like this, but you’re determined to not let it happen again. Just two times, you think with a bitter scoff.

Your phone vibrates on your bedside table, indicating a new message.

[11:55pm] I can’t stop thinking about you either.

Attached is a photo. A photo of a familiar lacy scrap of fabric, grasped in his hand and covered in milky white cum.

It’s filthy, and wrong, and you feel yourself getting obscenely wet at the thought of him touching himself with your missing panties clutched between his fingers.

Maybe just one more time.

thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!

#janas fics #fic: wildest dreams #dave york x reader #dave york #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #dave york fanfiction #dave york smut #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #pedrostories

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ravenrothstr · 3 months

Text

I SHOULDN'T HAVE MET MY IDOL

summary. y/n chasing her dreams of working as a graphic designer at SM to meet Jaehyun, just to find out expectations are different than reality

genre. idol! au, fluff

words count. 12.0k

disclaimer. the story is fully fictional. other names mentioned are just for the story and pure imagination, with no bad intentions

tags. @dulyrana

-- ★🎸🎧⋆｡ °⋆ --

You have been living in Seoul for almost five years now. Well, it wasn't the best thing that ever happened in your life but when you opened the email today, every bad day just flushed down the toilet in your brain.

Congratulations! I am writing to formally offer you the job for the trainee program on Graphic Designing and Creative Media for SM Entertainment Co. We strongly believe that your skills and expertise will help our company to reach great heights...

You read it twice, thrice, quadruple, quintuple and millions of times. It is just too good to be true. Tears stung your eyes like shards of glass, slowly recalling the hardships you had gone through throughout the journey.

It was cold when you finally left to finish your work on a Friday night during her first job in Seoul as an intern at a small firm. You looked at the phone to check the temperature immediately regretting how thin she dressed that day.

-11

The cold wash over your skin repeatedly as you freeze in front of the company. You threw your arms around yourself to hug, hoping to feel warmer. Just then, you heard footsteps approaching out of the company door in which you immediately recognised the person. It was your supervisor and head boss. You quickly gave them a warm smile and a gentle bow, although you were unfamiliar with that culture.

"Hello", you greeted. The head boss just grinned at you as he replied in Korean which made you struggle to understand but lucky enough to have your supervisor translating it for him.

"He's asking if you wanna join for a drink"

"Oh sorry, I can't drink"

"Ah it's okay, I'll let him know", just then the supervisor translated it to the head boss but a different meaning.

"Sir, she's not going. She's not like us", leaving a remark.

You definitely understood that, you managed to learn some Korean before she came here. The head boss gave you a side eye, looking down at you as he scoffs and heads off with the supervisor. You stared blankly towards their direction, hearing the supervisor continue to speak to the head boss. With the knowledge of the Korean language you knew, you mixed the puzzle of words to understand why the supervisor was complaining about you.

The supervisor had the right to complain, though, you thought.

You messed up big time that day. You had the design wrong again this time because you misunderstood the client during the meeting. It was hard for you to catch what they were talking about, every word seemed too fast for you and no one bothered to help or clear it out. By the time, the supervisor presented the new design, they were too furious. You had to remake the design repeatedly for the client until they were satisfied. They suffered a lot that day.

The emotions caught you as she looked down at the ground that is now turning into white snow. You dragged your feet to the studio she lived in, making your way to the bed. Thinking to yourself.

Have I made the right choice to come here?

This thought came up again when you was working as an assistant graphic designer at another firm when you witnessed the design that you spent sleepless nights on it to not be selected for the presentation. Your coworker, who had the simplest design, smiled widely when they presented hers in front of the client.

The unfairness killed your confidence as you grew smaller and smaller in the community. Sinking in the pile of majorities. With you timid attitude, it makes it easier to bully her at work. You did most of the editing, the hard ones, and the complicated ones and you never complained. Because deep down, you knew this work was what put the food on the table.

You closes the lights at the desk, making your way out of the office. You were again the last person to leave the office. Lifting up your face, you saw the snow falling to the ground. Significating another year's end. You took out the earphones you plucked them into your phone and brought it to your ear. Looking at your recent playlist, you picked a song for your walk back home.

Timeless - NCT U

You start walking back home as the song starts, it reminds you why you came here in the first place. It was no surprise to anyone that you would be moving to Korea since you were very influenced by the Korean industry ever since you were in high school. You loved everything about it.

Food. Music. Drama. Outfits and of course.

Idols.

Throughout the years, you stan a lot of groups but never beats NCT. It was everything to you. Your happiness, comfort, sadness. You named it. Nothing cures you more than them, same goes for other fans out there, you feel connected with them. Despite of being very immersed in fangirling, you is too just an average girl out there living her life.

“You really think I can have my internship in Seoul?”, you questioned your friend sitting in front of you.

"Of course, a lot of our seniors did it. You can apply for that program since you like kpop so much, you should go"

You shrugged your shoulders, even if you wanted to your confidence wasn't thick enough for you to crush all the obstacles you imagined and your friend was quick to notice that.

"Come on, y/n. You'll have fun there, and who knows you might meet Jaehyun. He's your bias right?", you smirked at her comment.

"He's everyone's bias. Besides that's too impossible to happen. You know fans and idols are separated by reality"

"And you know fans are dreamers, and you can't go into reality without waking up"

You didn't say anything. It was true that meeting up and being close to your bias is very delusional but as a fan who dreams for it to become true, you hold onto something called hope.

This memory was definitely a core reason for your hope to work somewhere near Jaehyun. The greatest thing about it is that you really loves your job and you love kpops. Therefore, you always find yourself pushing through the hardships of living there alone.

You stretched your neck from side to side as you relieved your tiredness from your work. It has been almost three months since you worked at SM as a trainee, and you like working there. Most of your colleagues treated you nicely, not to mention the bossy seniors but overall it was alright. However, it does dishearten the fact you haven't met any idol yet. You were starting to believe that trainees don't get any opportunities to meet any idols. Just then, you heard someone tap your shoulder softly. It was no surprise to you this time when you saw a familiar figure standing behind you. Your face immediately lifted up a smile.

It was your trainee partner, Beom Seok.

"Meet me at the pantry", he mouthed. You nodded as you headed to the pantry after him.

"Are you still working on the mood board for the new group debut concept?", Beom Seok asked leaning his back on the countertop and taking a sip of his coffee.

"Yeah, you know how fussy Daeun can be", rolling your eyes back as you stir your coffee next to Beom Seok.

He smiled.

"It's amazing, isn't it? You get involved in concept ideas for the new debut as if they are letting us decide what's the new trend-"

"Or our supervisor is just not that up to date with the latest edit trend of Photoshop so she's asking her little minions to explore it for her"

"Well, if you see it in that light. I can't stop you from being a pessimist, just like how you can't stop me from looking at how great you are"

You chuckled, Beom Seok is definitely a 'words of affirmation person' and he has a lot to share with you. The days go on as you continue editing your work, reconsulting it and repeating. She looked around the office to see who was still available. She felt relief when she saw Daeun and Beom Seok at their table. It was really a hectic week for them.

They decided to call it a day not long after, Daeun offered them to have dinner together saying she had to get rid of some nervousness for a crucial presentation but Beom Seok politely declined as he headed home straight away. Although you couldn't drink, you figured it wouldn't hurt to accompany Daeun. Besides, it was going to be at her apartment so you didn't have to send anyone home or worry about how to get back.

Your eyes widen when you enter Daeun's apartment. It was so white-coded, with the minimalist interior it makes the place warmer. Daeun opened her coat and tossed her keys at the table. Your eyes were scanning the room when you caught on something to your liking.

Regular-Irregular

"Unnie, I didn't know you liked NCT 127"

"Oh that?," Daeun responded while setting up the table.

"I was involved in their comebacks a few times before. Also, for the upcoming next year", she continues. "Tomorrow's presentation is about their comeback. It might be a bit tense even if they approved the concept",

You could only nod to her statement, not ignoring the jealousy you felt inside. In fact, you did come here with the hope of getting close to Jaehyun. Daeun showed you the ring book about their concept as your eyes read the title.

2 Baddies.

Daeun continued to show and explain to you about the concept, with the thought of her practising for tomorrow. You were all ears for it. With the cars and race suits, they're definitely gonna look amazing. As time passed by, Daeun took a sip from the glass. It was the fifth bottle of soju. Your eyes pulled closed at separate times as they fought to stay awake, the sleepiness was getting into you.

You squeezed your eyes shut due to the tiredness. The next thing you knew you were witnessing the sunlight rays through the sliding door across Daeun's living room. Your body shoots upright in the chair as your mind tries to deny the reality the sun is up.

"Daeun, you have to wake up or we will be late for work", you aggressively shake Daeun, hoping you shake her off from the drunkness.

But it was no use, she was still completely wasted from last night.

"Unnie you have a presentation today, get yourself together!"

Daeun begins to groan as she tosses and turns her body around. She was clearly not ready to go to work. You grumble in frustration.

"Daeun, I'll get going first. I am so sorry", you apologise. You quickly made your way out of Daeun's apartment and you headed to your house at the speed of light. Luckily, your apartment wasn't that far from Daeun's.

The clock on the wall of your office was showing you 15 minutes late. Your heart started pumping with the calves burning, breath forming clouds in the air from your face. Your feet fly over stones and leaves. The clock on the wall of your office was showing you 30 minutes late. when you entered. You tried your best to look calm in front of the others as you made yourself comfortable at your desk.

"Are you okay?", Beom Seok mouthed from his desk, next to you.

You just gave him a small nod and started to work as usual.

Daeun was nowhere to be found when they began to search her for the presentation. The voice of your senior teammate's roses as they called decline again. The clock struck near to 2pm, and the team got more and more restless of Daeun missing in action. You and Beom Seok kept your head low, trying your best not to get involve in this matter.

You secretly prayed for Daeun's appearance. You would be in great trouble if they knew you were with her last night. Just then, you heard one of your senior teammates answered a call.

"Daeun, where the fuck are you?!"

Your shoulders pulled back to the chair, letting out a long relief when you thought Daeun coming to the office anytime soon.

"What do you mean you're not coming? Did you drink last night?!", the senior scolded.

You could the shivers under your skin, making you turning into white. Daeun has always been a pain in the ass to the team but you didn't expect her to bail out on work last minute just like this. You tried your best to ignore the conversation and remind yourself it wasn't your fault for Daeun's action but you couldn't help when you heard the senior mentioning your name.

"You passing y/n to present because she revised the presentation with you?", the senior turned her head towards your direction.

Blood drains from your skin, and your entire body becomes impossibly still. There was no way they were letting you do the presentation just because your drunk supervisor said so.

Just before you can protest, you find yourself standing in front of the door meeting room with your other seniors rehearsing the presentation with them. They make sure to tell you all the ethics of the meeting and also remind you that the meeting will be recorded for their content.

"And also, there will be the members in the room so don't go throw yourself at them. Remember you are the concept creator and you must stay professional"

The comment made you stand rigid with terror, too overwhelmed to move. You're not ready for this, not in this way. But if you told your seniors now you couldn't do it, you felt like you were passing the burden instead of lifting it up for them. It's indeed your job and you are here for that.

You entered the room with your seniors and other teams. You assume they were all working together too for this comeback. The more you scan the room, the more nervous you get. NCT was definitely there at the end of the room with all cameras directing to them. What's happening was so surreal to you but you kept yourself composed as you focused on the meeting.

The presentation went well for you, although most of the time you were just filling it with compliments on how the members would look great with the concept because you had no idea what the presentation's content was. As soon as the director gave the cut queue, everyone started bowing at each other. The sight of NCT approaching you caught your eye and you immediately went into panic mode, making sure of a good impression.

You gave a smile and quick bow as soon you made eye contact with Jaehyun, the first member approached you. Feeling the butterflies in your stomach and your heart fluttering. Luckily he replied with the same smile before he spoke.

"Are you new here?"

"Yeah, but I'm just here to give the presentation on behalf of Daeun sunbaenim"

"Ah I see, I wonder too where was she"

He knew Daeun?, you scoff at the thought in your head as Johnny gets in your view.

"Well, hope to see you around. It was nice meeting you"

You again smiled uncontrollably at those words as you brought it to the dinner table with Beom Seok.

"I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE I NOT ONLY SAW THEM IN FRONT OF ME! THEY WERE CONVERSING WITH ME!", you said excitedly at Beom Seok. He only continued to grill the meat for you, just before you could continue fangirling Beom Seok raised his voice at the owner of the restaurant.

이모, 소주 주세요

"One bottle of soju, please". You took a hint he might be having a hard time at work today.

"Feel like drinking today? Should I invite Daeun?" you try to lift up the mood.

"No, it's okay. Just wanna have a drink with you"

"Beom Seok, let's get you home. You are really drunk now", tapping gently at his shoulder who's now putting his face down at the dinner table with a hand on the soju glass.

“You’re being… ridicu-lush… ’m not that drunk…”

You rolled your eyes at the comment. Beom Seok was totally wasted too at the other end of the table. And here you are, struggling with how to get him home after paying for the meal.

"Beom Seok, we need to get you home now", you said, trying your best to lift him up. Just as you made it to the door with Beom Seok, you caught into a familiar person covered in long black coat.

Oh my god

"Oh, it's you again", said Jaehyun.

"Hi-"

"This is really bad timing actually", you tried to laugh off the embarrassment.

"Are you okay? Do you need help?"

"Actually yes, he's quite heavy"

Is it really Jeong Jaehyun helping me?

He took Beom Seok's arm from you and continued to carry him.

"So do you know where he lives?"

"I- I don't actually too", Jaehyun laughed, clearly you guys weren't that close yet. Nor friends with benefits.

"We can take him to my apartment first, then we can search for his address"

"WHAT?! I don't think we are allowed to do that. Besides, if you know me, I should be the last per-"

"You're a fan, aren't you?"

The question caught you off guard, you could only stare blankly at him before Beom Seok's sudden nausea hit you back to reality. Seems like bringing him to Jaehyun's apartment was a good option.

You tried a few times to unlock Beom Seok's phone, while Jaehyun went out of the room to take off his coat. It took longer than you expected to unlock his phone. Apparently, the fingerprint or face ID wasn't working and now you had to figure out the passcode.

"Hurry up what's your passcode", you clench your hands in frustration, wanting to throw the phone away.

You closed your eyes, letting you a long sigh. This was one of the reasons you hate the idea of drinking. It brings you back to your childhood.

The image of your alcoholic father drunk on the sofa flashes before your eyes when you peck through the door of your room. Again today, he came in with another woman wrapped around his arms.

"Mom, are you done at the restaurant?". you said as soon as your mom picked up the call.

"I'm sorry dear, we're almost done. We're just closing, I'll be back soon I promise"

She said that every time.

And every time you called, you hoped for her to enter the house to witness this messy affair herself. Little did you know, the day your mom found out about the affair was the last day you ever saw your mother. If you knew she couldn't handle the news, you would have brought the affairs to grave. She must been having a tough time with her life.

"Hey, are you okay?", Jaehyun gently placed his palm on your shoulder, bringing you back to reality.

"Yeah, I'm just really tired"

"That's okay. You really should spend the night here-"

"NO", you quickly protest.

"I'm sorry, we should leave. I think his wallet is here somewhere and we can get a taxi from her-"

"I think it'll cause more trouble if you leave my apartment at night. I saw some sasaeng on our way back here"

You felt bad, this is your first time encountering your bias and you have caused much trouble for him. Seeing how persistent Jaehyun were, you decided to stay. Besides, he really didn't seem uncomfortable leaving the house at the moment after mentioning the sasaeng.

You opened your iPad as you made yourself comfortable on the sofa and started studying the repackage concept after the upcoming comeback for 127. Thanks to the impromptu presentation, you have the slides for the next comeback. You were focused on studying when suddenly Jaehyun went to you with a pair of white tshirt and a plaid sleep pants.

“Here, you can change into these if you want too and it’s okay too if your not comfortable doing so”

“Thanks, I’ll just stay in this outfit for a bit until I finish studying”

He smiled at you at your gesture, looking at how immerse you are at your job.

“So what are you studying?”, he asked as he sits besides you at the carpet.

“Well, from what i know this is the repackage concept for your comeback. You wanna have look?”

“Yeah, sure. Gotta make sure I look good in it”, he jokes.

You laughed at his actions. The night continues with both of you sharing experiences with each other, you share your concert experiences and how you ended up in Seoul while he shares TMI during their trainee's day. Both of you shared the warmth of the conversation together that cold night.

Later that morning, you left the apartment with Beom Suk once he was sober enough to walk. You made sure to thank Jaehyun for the night before you left.

—

As another Monday comes in, another chaos comes around. You and Beom Suk sat quietly at your desk, listening to the argument between Daeun and the rest of the team. Apparently, SM decided to sack off Daeun due to her inappropriate attitude lately.

It's been weeks since the Daeun incident. With no supervisor around, you and Beom Suk had little task to do and seems like everyone was just too busy for you guys. You question how the system and organisation really works. Regardless, you still try your best every day.

You sat in front of Beom Suk at the lunch table, your appetite was long gone along with your motivation. Beom Suk lets a sigh as he looks at you playing with your food. He saw 127 members entering the cafeteria. He thought it might be a good chance to lift up your mood, knowing how much you like them.

"Y/n, look it's 127", Beom Suk shakes your little hand, making you turn towards them.

"What's the use of that? Our work is not even close to that. We are to be sacked off too like Daeun unnie"

Beom Suk answered nothing, as both of you returned to your lunch quietly. Just as you entered the lift together with Beom Suk, you met the senior who was with you during the presentation.

"y/n it's been a while", she said, smiling at you.

"Hi, it's nice to see you too. This is my coworker, Beom Suk"

She exchanges bows with Beom Suk.

"I heard about Daeun resigning, it must have been a tough position for both of you"

"Yes, it is, do call us if there's any work we can help you with", you answered politely.

"Actually, we do have some work if you like. Do you have some time?"

You give it a look to Beom Suk, unsure if it's a good idea for both of you to jump at another team's work but you figured out Daeun used to be a part of another team as well and you guys had extra lunchtime so you decided to stop by. They showed you around with the NCT team, the album photo shoot, the fashion line and the choreography for the upcoming tour. It never fails to make you feel more proud of them.

Once the lunch hour was over, you and Beom Suk made your way back to your office floor and of course, you could not stop talking about how much you liked the concept and you had already imagined the fans (you) would react. His tender smile naturally reflected his genuine feelings, he was happy for her.

"But don't you think the youngest fashion designer looks familiar to you?", you asked Beom Suk.

"Well, I really couldn't tell. There were too many people back there"

Your mind went puzzled, you were so sure you'd made some of them somewhere but none of your memories rang the bells. You shook the thought off when the lift indicates the office floor.

"You think this colour suits him more?", Yun Hee asked.

"Hm yeah, Johny really suits any colour though but black does matches his hair"

"If then, let's go with shirtless! We can add more accessories", you were stunned.

"Suit yourself"

You have been visting 127's team lately with Beom Suk, the team also love that you were there often. They really appreciate your idea. You were there again with Beom Suk during their album photoshoot, lucky you, your design team allowed you and Beom Suk since there were not much work for you guys for the time being.

As you entered the room with Beom Suk, you can see the car in the middle of the set, covered with white wall around. When Yun Hee and the rest of the styling team entered the room, you knew the members was ready for the shoot.

"I think they look great!", Yun Hee whispered to your ear as she dash next you and Beom Suk.

You turn over your sight towards the members entering the room after Yun Hee.

You froze with your muscles locked in a momentary paralysis, surprise with the visual in front of your eyes. You felt your inner fangirl could scream any moment now, just like when they first appear at any concerts.

"Hey, didn't expect you here", Jaehyun said when he pass by you.

He was the last member to enter the room. It quickily snap you back to reality. Reminding you are here as a stuff at SM.

You were unable to think, you wanted to answer him perfectly that you eventually missed the chance. You just replied to him with a smile, as he made his way to the set.

The photoshoot went smoothly, you observe how they started editing the pictures as they also started shooting for the individual photoshoot.

Jaehyun started talking to you now and then whenever he was free, you were glad he did not ignore you completely after the incident at his apartment yet you can't help noticing youngest member of the fashion line had been eyeing you and Jaehyun all day. It definitely felt weird, more like she was stalking you.

"Are you feeling uncomfortable?", Jaehyun asked, he was quick to notice the situation.

"I am a bit uncomfortable actually, maybe it's because of the cameras", you lied.

"It's okay, just ignore them. You'll get used to it soon"

"You're saying it like I'm the one who is an idol", you joke.

"Well, if I would want to talk to you again, would it be in a situation like this too?"

Your mind went puzzled again.

"Do you mean you wanna talk to me more often?"

"Yeah, I would like to. It's nice to have a conversation like this once in a while"

A soft smile played on his lips, you stared at the in front of you. It cannot be more perfect.

You pushed the thoughts aside when they call Jaehyun for the individual shoot and offered you and Beom Suk to edit the photocards for the album, which both of you gladly took the job.

“Y/N?”

You heard someone calling you as you step out of the company, finally ending the day. It took you by surprise that it was the one was who calling you was the familiar fashion designer you talk about to Beom Suk the other day.

“Hi. I am Rose, I haven’t formally introduced myself to you”, she reach out her hand to you.

“Hi, odd to meet you here. Can i help you with anything?”

“No no”, she quickly cleared the assumption before continuing.

“I just wanted to invite you to dinner, since now we are on the same team”

She sounded very uncanny, but she was indeed really kind to the rest of the team and you wanted to get to know her more so you accept her invitation to dinner. It took you by surprise on how ordinarythe dinner was. Both of you exchanged stories and really had nice conversations.

“Are you 127 fan, y/n?”

“Yes, I am a fan. Although I do love my job as a graphic designer at SM, I won’t lie working with your bias is a good motivation”

“Is Jaehyun your bias? I saw you talking to him on the set today”

“He is, I’ve been a fan since-“

“Is that’s why you go to his apartment the other day?”, she confronted you.

That’s when it hits you. Rose was one of the sasaengs that waited outside Jaehyun’s apartment. Suddenly, everything makes senses to you.

Her gazed immediately changed when her intention was out. It creeps you out the fact she is working for the 127 inside the company. Having a lot of access and information about the members.

“You misunderstood the situation, Rose. It’s nothing like you imagined”

“I know it’s not like that, we know”, giving insight to you that she’s not the only one.

“I have an offer to make. How about you tell me about Jaehyun or what’s is in his apartment and we pay you and release a insight he is dating someone like you?”

You could not believe what Rose was doing. Of course it would be flattering that Jaehyun had a scandal with you but being paid for being in a scandal while you know it’s less that true is really beneath you. You felt insulted.

“I am not interested in selling Jaehyun’s name or to be in your dirty game, Rose. You know this is against the company and idols policy”

“We’re never know, y/n. I can already imagine how heartbreaking it is for you when Jaehyun reveals his true colours”

You remain silents. It is true idols are products of how the company have groom them to be and it will be devastating to know that they might not be the same as what you had pictured them. But you can’t let Rose get into your head, Jaehyun deserve to live as much as you do.

“Nice dinner with you, Rose”, you stood up from the table and leaving some cash enough to pay your portion of the dinner.

“You can always find my number in the group chat, y/n”

“Your just selfish because you couldn’t have your bias to yourself”, your turn your back to Rose, storming out of the restaurant.

—

Not long after, you and Beom Suk joined 127 team. Your previous team had a great conflict on the new upcoming team, where they are considering taking out some members of NCT. The conflict worsen day after day until they decided to discontinue the team for the time being. As a fan, you felt bad you couldn’t defend the members. The best you could do now is wait for the company to decide and give out an official statement before you and Beom Suk could continue your original work.

Today, you focus on editing the cover of the album. It’s due by the end of the week. The nearer the comeback date, the more workload you have. It gives you a lot of pressure, it’s the first time you handle editing for a comeback. You wanted to excel your work, especially for NCT.

Looking at the clock that strikes 10 p.m, you decide to wrap up your work. You search for Yun Hee, hoping she’s still around but she was nowhere to be found at her desk. So you thought she might be with the members for some measurements or final fitting.

You press the button to the practise room floor, you’ve been there a few times with Beom Suk when both of you worked on the content editing during the time both of you were waiting your own desk. Those moments definitely became core memories for you.

—

“Let’s have dinner together, y/n”, Johnny said to you, who was focusing on the editing.

“Pardon?”

“I said, let’s have dinner together. Everyone here is going. It’s hyung’s treat”, he grinned at the choreographer.

During that time, the incident with Rose was pretty recent so you thought it’s better for you to avoid being with them too much. Being at the practise room frequent was good enough for Rose to follow you around.

“I’ll have to rain check this one. I’m really sorry”

“Are you skipping dinner? Again?”, Beom Suk asked worriedly.

“No, it’s just that I really have to finish this editing so-“

“Y/n, it’s we have to finish this editing. Come on, I’ll help you out later”

“That’s not it, Beom Suk”

“Then why are you not going?”

Johnny quietly witnessed the situation, he too wanted to know why you have been skipping a lot of their invitations. At the corner of your eye, you can see Jaehyun was there too waiting for your answer.

It was hard for you to explain, you should told them about the sasaeng situation in the first place so that it won’t be complicated for you. You held back screams of frustration. Deep inside you felt mad at Rose for making you feel obligated to her, at the same time you were disappointed in yourself for being scared of her. It took a while for you to process your thoughts when you finally made the decision.

"You know what? Let's go", you said, closing the laptop in front of you.

Johnny and Jaehyun begin to grin ear to ear at your decision. On your way out of the building, the choreographer starts to counsel you on how you shouldn't stress out and give yourself a little fun along your career until all of you make it into the lift.

"Hyung, I think she gets it already", Jaehyun placed his hand on the choreographer's shoulder.

He certainly has saved you in that situation. You peek over your shoulders at Jaehyun. In moments of bliss, both lips curved into matching smiles.

All of you headed to the restaurant, and you tried your best to not walk closely or look too friendly to the members. You walked at the back of them, looking at the ground figuring out how things around.

"Y/N", you heard.

You immediately lifted up your head.

"Yes, Jaehyun. Is there something wrong?", you were concerned and he let out a chuckled at your action.

"I think I should be the one asking. You seem uncomfortable again"

"There's so much going on right now with the comeback", you tried not to spill out about Rose to him.

"Is everything okay? You know you can talk to me if you want to"

And that statement itself made you flutter, you smiled uncontrollably. Although you tried your best to hide it, it was pretty visible to Jaehyun. He couldn’t help but smile at you.

"I haven't sorted out my mind on this stuff that I'm not okay with, but I really should warn you to be careful with the people around you"

At the end of the day, you wanted Jaehyun to be happy and live comfortably just like a normal person except that you regretted saying that when his soft expression turned immediately to anger and worry.

"Has anyone been hurting you? You were blackmailed?", this was the first time you saw this side of Jaehyun and you wished it was your last.

"No, no Jaehyun. I'm fine. It's just I've been watching a few sasaeng fans videos during my work and it worries me that it's might be you going through"

Jaehyun came back to his normal state as you too tried your best to calm down.

“So your saying you want me to be careful of people around me?”

“Yes”

“Have you seen anyone suspicious around me?”

“Yes”, you spoke honestly, making an eye contact with him. He stared at your eyes, both of you stayed at that position for a while.

“Okay. I was about to tell you not to worry so much about things around and enjoy your times with us. Why don’t you help to keep an eye for me since I don’t know how is the suspicious person-“

You felt bad, you should’ve be the whistleblower and tell the company about Rose.

“And in exchange, I’ll spend more time with you”, Jaehyun continued.

“You mean more conversations? Because that’s the only thing we do”, you giggled.

“Yeah that would do, i can be your listener if you want someone to talk too. Plus, I like hearing you speak”

“Thanks, Jaehyun. I really look forward to that”, both of you smiled at your shared secret, making your way to restaurant to enjoy the rest of the night.

—

Once the elevator stops at your floor, you went straight ahead to the practise room area. You took a peek at the door, making sure it’s 127’s room before entering. You saw Yun Hee at the corner of the room measuring Yuta while the other members were practicing.

“Is everything okay?”, you asked, looking at how intense Yun Hee is.

“Apparently someone lose the measurements for the concert outfits, now we have to measure it all again”, she was so focus she couldn’t bother lifting up her face to you. You understood her actions.

“Was it you, Yun Hee?”

“Of course not. Do you think I take my job lightly?”

You were stunned at the sudden burst, Yun Hee was at her peck moment. Luckily Yuta was quick to address her.

“I don’t think she meant that way, Yun Hee”, he explained.

“It wasn’t her and I’m sure of it. The person who has been measuring us the same person all the time. It’s not Yun Hee”

“If she’s measuring it all the time, doesn’t mean she can use the previous measurements?”

“She doesn’t have all those, she’s new. I assume she lost the whole book or just didn’t bother to keep it”, Yun Hee spoke.

While you try to understand the situation, you heard the door swing open, followed with the sound of small steps close enough to tell they were running.

“There you are. You should be here the moment you lost the book”, Yun Hee said to Rose.

You didn’t like what was happening. Instead of helping Yun Hee, you questioned more Rose intention. Did she really lost the book or she’s just trying to get on people’s nerves? Yun Hee started scolding her, as you can Yun Hee has been in deep stress lately. The members are stop their practise and slowly approaching them.

It made you realise Rose really wanted to be noticed by the members. Regardless whatever it takes.

“Yun Hee let’s not do this here, you need to focus on what to do next”, you quickly reminded her before it gets worse.

Yun Hee looked at you sternly, as she let out a long sigh and looked at the ground.

“I’ll help you. We can get this done by tonight, I’ll call for Beom Suk. He’s always here”, you continued.

“No, we can’t. The members really need to rest tonight. We can’t drag any more time”

“It’s okay, Yun Hee. Yun Hee right, your name?”, Johnny asked.

“You can measure us quickly now, only we’re a bit sweaty now. Sorry about that. Here, measure me now”, he pick up the measuring tape and pass it to Rose.

Yun Hee smiled a little, she was glad to see people are willing to help. You softly put your hand at her shoulder.

“I’ll help too, okay?”, picking up another measuring tape.

Although you are not sure of what to do, but it won’t hurt to help. Jaehyun approach you while you were trying to figure out how and what to measure.

“Please measure me, miss”, he said, opening his arms straight to the side. Indicating he was ready, you laughed at him and played along.

“Okay sir. Please note this is my first time, I might need to measure you a few times”

“As you please, madame.”

You and Jaehyun had fun as you two played around when you measured him. Of course the other could see how the both of you enjoying each other’s company, so they let the two of you have sometime together.

“Y/N, can I check the measurements?”, Rose interrupt the laughter.

“Yeah sure, here is it. Is it okay?”

“Well, apparently there’s a lot weird measurements here. I think I need to remeasure him.”

She immediately took the tape and start to measure Jaehyun, pushing you slightly. Jaehyun didn’t like what he was witnessing, he reluctantly gave Rose a glare. Her intentions were clear to you, but you did not want to make things anymore complicated so you start help measuring other members.

The night was late after all of you finished with the measurements and as to make up to it, all of them decided to have some drinks that night.

You were about to make your way out of the studio along with other, when Jaehyun gently pulled your wrist.

“Hey, let’s walk together. To make up with the wrong measurements”, he trying to taste the water making sure your okay.

“Sure.”

The group disper off in their own direction heading towards home after the drink. Some of them were really drunk, unlike you. You're glad Beom Suk was there to make sure they didn't ask you much about why you weren't drinking.

"Are you sure you don't want me to walk you home?", Beom Suk asked.

"Looking at your stand, I'll be the one walking you home. Thanks for offering anyway."

Beom Suk smiled at you as he waved at you before heading towards the opposite direction. Just then, Jaehyun ran out of the bar after you.

"Do you care for some midnight walks?"

Under the cloak of night, the Han River becomes a place of quiet contemplation. The rhythmic hum of traffic fades into the background, replaced by the soothing melody of crickets and the occasional splash of a fish breaking the surface. The city skyline twinkles like a jewel in the darkness and there was you and Jaehyun.

In the dark night, he sure shines bright to you.

You thanked all your bad days that led to this moment shared with him. Both of you stop at the fence of the river, looking down at the gentle waves of the river.

"Have you protected me today?", he broke the silence.

"I have", you said proudly, and he was glad.

"Funny how some of us come here, feeling depressed while some come here, feeling content", you continued.

"So how do you feel?"

"Healed."

He admired how you were able to feel content and appreciate the days, even when they were tiring or difficult. The more he got to know you, the more he could appreciate his own days.

"You are truly the strongest person I know, y/n," sliding his gaze slightly towards you as you did the same.

"I have great motivation here", you said smirking.

"What's your motivation?"

"NCT"

Both of you laughed at the answer. It felt a bit awkward for you to say it in front of a member, maybe because you never had to chance to join any fan meet or win a fan call event. Even though, saying it through fan meet and fan call would definitely be less embarrassing.

"I admire how fans have us as motivation and their pillar strength, making tough times easier. I envy that sometimes", he opened up to you and you listened to him dearly.

"What will shine the brightest to you will definitely come to you during the darkness. You'll find your light, trust me. You're my light!"

Jaehyun felt pleased listening to you. The night ended with you and Jaehyun walking down the street heading home to rest, filled with laughs and giggles along the way.

"I wish we could do this every night, it will heal me", you joke.

"Then let's do it."

Their gazes locked, and time seemed to pause, an eternity encapsulated within a fleeting moment following Jaehyun's heartfelt statement.

You contemplated what to answer him, and in that moment of uncertainty, you simply bid your goodbyes and headed your way, leaving him alone on the street, pondering the depth of your interaction.

“You looked really tired. Do you want to take a day off? I can help you out with the works”, Beom Suk looked at you worriedly.

“No, I’m really okay”

“Do you perhaps still hangover from last night?”, Yun Hee asked.

“No, Y/N don’t drink.”

“Thank you for remembering”, you grinned at Beom Suk.

As the members and rest of team entered the meeting room before they start the short briefing for the comeback and schedules. There will be a tour this time, it will be more work for the team and the members yet you can see how all of them were happy for this opportunity. It has been a while since they had a tour, looking at how much work they will be doing later really shows you how much NCT has grown.

“And that is all”, said the team leader, indicating the end of the meeting.

“Oh and the graphic team, don’t forget to submit the album for printing”, he quickly added.

You and Beom Suk nodded.

The editing team was chaotic that evening. The deadline for the album printing is today, and all of you gave out your last 100% for this.

“Please make sure you check the folder before sending”, the team leader reminded you and Beom Suk.

Both of you struggled with saving and making sure none of the graphic are pixelated. After so much trouble, you check one last time on the folder and clicked send.

“We did it”, Beom Suk reached out his hand for a high five to you as you replied it.

You sank your weak body into the chair, ready to end the day at the office.

The comeback happens smoother than you could have imagined. Everyone's spirits were high, eagerly anticipating the tour and embracing their new schedules with enthusiasm. Your friendship with Jaehyun continued to progress, deepening over time. Well, you didn’t go to Han River every night, but you and Jaehyun find time for each other perfectly. Moreover, you found yourself gradually overcoming your anxiety about Rose. Nothing could go wrong, you thought, as you filled your heart with each passing day.

You were making your way at the bar with Jaehyun, laughing on today’s inside jokes together. As you approach the red tent, Jaehyun automatically rise his hand lifting up the tent for you.

“Ladies first”

“Thank you”, you replied.

It took a while for you to search for the rest of the team and members. Most of the tables were taken by the time you reached. Although in the mid of your search, Jaehyun froze when he noticed Daeun at the table with the rest of them.

“Y/N, Jaehyun, over here!”, they called for you.

The rest of dinner was delight for you, it has been a longtime since the last time you met Daeun. You excitedly told her how well the concept is been going for the team that you. However, you couldn’t help but noticing how Daeun has been exchanging and taking glances at Jaehyun who was beside you at the table throughout the night.

It did made you feel uncomfortable, it felt like you were holding Jaehyun back from something so you decided to go out of the tent for a while with faking that you wanted some fresh air from the smell of alcohol and Daeun did seize the opportunity to approach Jaehyun.

Through the tent, you can see Daeun absolutely hit it off with Jaehyun.

“They really look good together”, Johnny said, taking you by surprise. He went out for smoke when he saw you peaking on them.

Only god knows how much you wanted to scream “NO!” on top of lungs to Johnny’s question. But again, you’ll suffer more living in this imaginary world of yours.

“Yes”, you answered. “They would be a perfect couple.”

Daeun comes over to talk to you when you return to the bar, but is only met with awkward conversation instead of the same boisterous talks you had. You wanted to blame it so much on Johnny’s statement that melded in your mind but deeply you know you was just upset if wasn’t you.

You would be lying if you say you didn’t cry yourself to bed that night.

“At least it’s sends me to sleep”, you thought to yourself when you woke up with puffed eyes the next morning.

Regardless it didn’t stop you from work. With those eyes, you sat on your desk the next morning and continue editing. Shallowing all the pain and heartache you felt last night.

—

The atmosphere among the office workers is tense and fraught with unease as you arrive at the desk that day. Beom Suk and the other colleagues are frantically searching through files or documents, while the team leader is furiously typing emails and making urgent phone calls. Your emotions run high, with feelings of anxiety and perhaps even panic palpable in the air. You aren't sure what's going on in the office.

"Yes, we are very sorry. We will address and amend the cover straight away," you hear the team leader say on the phone.

Your eyes widen in alarm. It was you who emailed the cover for printing. Just then, the team leader calls her out to the meeting room and scolds you about the mistake on the cover. Apparently, SM had printed out the album and released it. Soon, the fans noticed Doyoung was not on the cover, and the situation went viral on the internet.

As hard as it is for you to brush off the emotions, you begin going through the files again and resending the correct folder for printing. Despite the lingering anxiety, you focus on rectifying the mistake and ensuring that the issue is promptly resolved. Once the situation is handled and the correct files are sent, you step out of the office to take a moment to calm down. You sat on the bench on the terrace alone with your coffee when a familiar figure came next to you.

"Hey", said Beom Suk, you felt calm again.

"Can I cry now?", Beom Suk immediately taps on his shoulder and shoves it slightly towards you, ensuring you he'll be there for you.

It made you smile, even with tears rolling down your cheeks. You lean on towards him, putting your head on his shoulders.

"Beom Suk, I have something to tell you"

"What is it?"

"I didn't send the wrong file"

“What?” he asked, as if he hadn’t heard what had been said.

"I checked the files before sending, in fact, Doyoung was the last person I edited so I remember it clearly," you explain, trying to ease his confusion.

"I'm not sure how, but the email was sent twice, and the second one wasn't from me," you add, feeling a pang of frustration at the situation.

"Well, do you know who it is? You should really clear out your name," he says, his tone edged with frustration as he tries to stand up from the bench, ready to confront whoever is responsible. But you quickly reach out and hold his arm, stopping him.

"It's okay, you'll find out who it is later. Let's just stay like this for a while," you say softly, wanting to diffuse the tension and find solace in each other's company amidst the chaos.

That night, the members invited you out for a drink again. However, halfway through the evening, you begin to feel uneasy about being with them at the moment. You decide to personally apologize to Doyoung for the mistake. Thankfully, he forgives you and offers you some comfort, reassuring you that he didn't take it personally and urging you not to worry about it.

Grateful for his understanding, you thank him sincerely before excusing yourself from the bar. Despite their invitations, you feel the need to retreat and process your emotions in solitude, hoping to find clarity and peace of mind away from the distractions of the night.

At times like this, you can't help but feeling sad, wishing you could stroll along the peaceful Han River with Jaehyun by your side. But ever since that night with Daeun, your once-close friendship with Jaehyun has faded, The silence between you weighs heavily on your heart, leaving you feeling lonely. Despite longing for his company, the unspoken tension makes it difficult to bridge the gap between you two.

“Where have you been? Aren’t you supposed to protect me?”, Jaehyun smirked.

“Oh sorry, Jaehyun. Things got messed up again”

“Great, I like messes!”

You laughed.

“No, you don’t”

“I do, come on tell me what’s going on. You left the bar alone again last night”

The image of Jaehyun hanging around with Daeun flashes back in your mind. It was almost like your still at the bar.

“Nothing that big nor about the comeback, so don’t worry”, you continue to march on with your arms crossed, hoping Jaehyun would scoff off any minute but he caught you arm holding you back.

“Y/N, do you not want to talk to me anymore?”, he looked serious.

“Not today, I’m sorry”, as you push his hands away from you and walk off.

As you expected, he didn't try to stop you from leaving. You glance back at Jaehyun as he walks away, feeling regret. You realise you've become used to getting what you want lately, and now you're feeling greedy for his company.

You forget your thoughts as you see Rose passing by the corridor. Without hesitation, you march towards her and quickly grab her wrist.

"What are you doing?", she struggles to release her hand from your grip.

"I'm letting you know that the tricks you are playing are not funny anymore and you should stop hacking into someone's computer", letting go of her hand.

Rose smirks at you with a wicked gleam in their eyes. Behind those eyes, she enjoys how agitated you are. She can't wait for the next evil scheme.

"Looks like reality is finally hitting you, y/n", Rose said to you, making you frown.

"You really don't scare me, Rose"

"Of course, I don't. Your job will"

"And Jaehyun's true colours with do it themselves to you", she added.

You strode away from her, your footsteps thundering down the hall. Clouded by a storm of emotions and rage, you feel torn. Protecting Jaehyun means everything to you, yet your job is equally important. Juggling both was taking its toll, gradually wearing you out.

You were about to pick up a tray as you arrived at the cafeteria when Beom Suk approached you.

"Hey, have the team leader spoken to you?", grabbing your attention.

"About what?" you ask, your tired body making its way through the food section.

"The tour, we're coming with them"

You flinched at his words. After Rose hinted at her sinister intentions, you couldn't shake the feeling that it had something to do with the concert. It seemed like she knew all along that you were going to follow them on tour as well.

"No", you protest.

"Yes, y/n. Remember when you told me you wanted to travel a lot during your 20s? This is a perfect opportunity"

"Perfect opportunity for Rose", you thought.

Beom Suk was right. After returning from lunch, the team leader called for a meeting and announced that you and Beom Suk would be joining 127 on tour to work on the stage graphics. While others congratulated you happily and mentioned it as an opportunity to become a permanent member, your heart couldn't fully embrace the joy. Instead, anxiety crept in, overshadowing any sense of excitement you might have felt.

—

After weeks of sleepless nights, this morning you marked crossed on the calendar at your house, looking at the reminder that you wrote on today's date.

TOUR TRIP D-DAY

The nerves crept in, making the moment feel surreal. It seemed too good to be true, yet you knew deep down that you deserved this opportunity. You and Beom Suk had worked tirelessly for this comeback and tour, overcoming countless obstacles. Through all the challenges, you poured your heart and soul into your work, and now, you found yourself at the top. Despite the anxiety, you wanted to allow yourself to feel proud of your accomplishments.

"Hello, yes, Beom Suk?" you picked up the call, abruptly halting your daydream and bringing you back to reality.

"Hey y/n, sorry to break it to you, but we're having a serious problem with the flight tickets," Beom Suk's voice crackled through the phone.

"What do you mean?" you asked, your heart sinking.

"I'm with Manager Hyung right now, and it looks like our tickets, along with Jaehyun and Taeyong's, were not booked."

"WHAT?" Your disbelief echoed through the phone, mingling with a rising sense of panic.

You made your way to the company straight away after the phone call. As you reached the advertising and promotion floor, you spotted the member gathered on the couch near the entrance, their expressions reflecting a sense of hopelessness. A wave of pity washed over you, stronger for them than for yourself.

The manager went to get their flight tickets earlier this morning when they found out the reservations had been mysteriously cancelled by someone in the company.

The atmosphere filled with frustration and anger grew as they tried to rebook flights at such short notice proved difficult. Hours passed with no solution in sight. Jaehyun and Taeyong sat quietly, tired and disappointed.

In a tough decision, they sent Jaehyun and Taeyong back home temporarily while the rest of the members and team proceeded with their scheduled flight. It was hard, but it was the best decision they could make.

As they bid goodbye, promises were made to keep Jaehyun and Taeyong updated on the situation. With heavy hearts, they watched their friends leave, hoping for new tickets soon.

You remained there with Beom Suk, both of you tiredly trying to sort out the situation and waiting for the staff to deal with the new tickets. Taking a seat on the couch, you let out a long sigh of exhaustion. With your eyes closed, you lean back, resting your head against the soft cushions.

"Are you okay? You've been staying up the whole week to finish this work", Beom Suk asked, he was worried for you.

"I'm a bit tired, I should be sleeping on the plane by now"

"Just hold on for a bit, okay? It will be okay soon", you nodded to him.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting and uncertainty, a sense of relief washed over the room as the staff finally announced that the new flight tickets had been successfully booked.

You and Beom Suk exchanged tired but grateful smiles, your weary expressions giving way to a glimmer of hope. Both of you quickly gathered your belongings.

As you called Taeyong and Jaehyun for the pick-up at the airport, your heart sank when Jaehyun didn't answer his calls. Concern etched into your brow as you tried multiple times, each attempt met with the same silence.

Thoughts raced through your mind, imagining various scenarios that could explain his lack of response. The driver wasted no time and headed straight to Jaehyun's apartment. You and Beom Suk hurriedly made your way to his building, heartbeats quickening with each step. With the passcode provided by the manager, you swiftly punched in the numbers and the door clicked open.

Your eyes widen as you entered Jaehyun's apartment. The smell of the house felt familiar to you, even some of the stuffs seems familiar to you. Although it was hard to recognise where you seen them. Just then you found yourself in front of the master bedroom, the door was slightly open enough to have peek in and the view was a disappointment to you.

Clothes shuttered on the floor, both a man and woman clothes. You gather up all the courage you ever had in you as you lift up your head to the bed. You saw Jaehyun's naked body, sleeping with his arms wrapped around Daeun's naked body.

"At the end of the day, Jaehyun is a man of his own and I am a delusional fan", a bitter realisation settling in your heart.

As your eyes slowly turning into glass, Beom Seok quickily reach out the door knob slamming the door close. Hoping it was enough to wake up the lovebirds inside.

"Hyung, your flight leaves in 3 hours we need to go now", he screamed from the door.

Beom Seok turned his gaze to your stone figure. He knew how much Jaehyun meant to you, caught Jaehyun in bed with someone who is close to you definitely breaks your heart in pieces and Beom Seok can see that through your eyes.

"Y/N, please grab Jaehyun's luggage and passport at the living room. Take it down at the car, okay? Wait for me there", he said as he bends down to catch your eyes.

You wiped the drolling tears across your cheeks and responded to Beom Seok's instruction. The next thing you know, you witnessed Jaehyun and Daeun bid goodbyes. Giving them one last kiss before all of you made it to the airport after picking up Taeyong.

The fans ran everywhere, pushing each other and flashing their cameras and phones at them. Your body was definitely exhausted by now as you tried your best to make it through the crowd of fans following Jaehyun and Taeyong. As you continue walking, you feel your leg trembling like a jelly. With no hesitation, you held on to Beom Seok's wrist for support and whispered.

"I can't stand"

"Hold on to me, we'll find a place for you to sit at the gate", firmly fixing your hand on his arm, both of you continued walking like that until the gate.

Jaehyun watched the scene unfold with a heavy sigh, realising the toll their fame was taking on you. It pained him to see you and Beom Suk caught up in the chaos, especially now that you had witnessed his relationship firsthand.

Finally reaching the gate, you collapsed into a weary nap against Beom Suk's shoulder, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to you.

"Y/N, we need to board the plane now", Beom Seok shook you gently.

"Oh really? Thank you Beom Seok, for letting me lean on your shoulder"

"No problem Y/N, you really needed that nap", he replied as all of you made your way to the plane.

"Yeah, I'd love to continue that in the plane. I'm reserving your shoulder again," Beom Suk smiled at your statement as he glanced at your boarding pass.

"But Y/N, your not sitting beside me"

"What?", as you searched for the seat number on your boarding pass.

Your heart skipped a beat when you made eye contact with Jaehyun as both of you boarded the plane. The stewardess asked for your seat, and even Beom Suk refused to believe it.

"I'm sitting next to him", you said to the stewardess.

Jaehyun helped put your bags in the compartment above before both of you made yourself comfortable in your seats. You remained silence at your seat, giving Jaehyun the cold shoulder, still hurt by what you had witnessed earlier.

Jaehyun, sensing the distance, felt the guilt for the discomfort he had caused. He gently reached out to offer you a blanket, and headphones when your's didn't work, and even adjusted the air conditioning, hoping to provide some comfort during the flight as he was determined to mend the strained relationship.

You stubbornly ignored his gesture, your gaze fixed firmly out the window. Jaehyun was unfazed by your actions and persisted, quietly asking if you needed anything or if you were feeling alright.

As soon as the flight dims the lights to indicate nighttime, your emotions overwhelm you once more. Tears welled up in your eyes as feelings of betrayal washed over you, you wondered why Jaehyun had toyed with your feelings if he wanted to be with someone else.

Trying your best to conceal your sobbing, you assumed Jaehyun was asleep. But as you struggled with your tears, a gentle hand reached out to touch your shoulder, surprising you. You turned to find Jaehyun looking at you with concern, his eyes filled with empathy.

"Y/N, are you okay?" he whispered softly, his voice laced with genuine concern.

You longed for Jaehyun's comfort and presence, but the reminder of his relationship status held you back. You missed him, yet you couldn't ignore the boundaries.

You couldn't bring herself to open up to Jaehyun anymore.

"I... I don't want to talk right now." you declined Jaehyun's offer of comfort, your voice trembling slightly.

It pained you to push him away, but you couldn't ignore the reality of their circumstances. With your decision you turned away, seeking solace in the solitude of your thoughts as you grappled with conflicted emotions.

As you reached the destination, you, Beom Suk, and Yun Hee went on an exhilarating tour of the country, exploring its sights and immersing yourselves in its culture in every free time the three of you had aside from work. Every moment was filled with laughter and joy as you created cherished memories together.

Meanwhile, the members dedicated themselves to rehearsals, pouring their hearts and souls into perfecting their performances for the upcoming tour. Their determination never wavered.

Amidst the excitement and busyness of the tour, you found yourself avoiding any mention of what had happened between you and Jaehyun. You pushed aside your feelings of sadness, burying them deep within as you threw yourself into the distractions of sightseeing and work.

One night, you found someone texting you in the middle of the night after work and the second you saw the text you knew who was it from.

‘Glad you found yourself a ticket to the tour. Suprise with his true colours yet? We are ready to have you here’

You were tempted to give out the details. It haunts you that you were tempted. The feeling of betrayal and anger lingers in your mind. Tears starts to gather in your eyes as soon you found yourself typing out Jaehyun caught in bed with ex staff, you couldn’t click send. It kills you to betray him.

He has nothing against you and so do you. Again, you reminded yourself what you use to tell Rose.

“Your just selfish because you couldn’t have your bias to yourself”

As you switch off the phone and tossed it aside. You tried your best to calm down, so you decided to go out of your hotel room and sit by the pool. No longer after, Beom Suk approached you.

At first, both of you shared simple and fun conversations but as time went on his usual cheerful character was replaced by a very serious look. You could feel the conversation getting deeper.

"Y/N, with what happened between you and Jaehyun, I just want to remind you it's okay to be sad and mad," he began, his voice barely above a whisper.

"But dwelling on those emotions won't change what happened."

You looked at him, each word carrying a weight that resonated deep within your soul. It was as if he had peeled back the layers of your heart, revealing the rawness hidden beneath the surface.

He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. His eyes looked the same went he first offered you his shoulders, again he reminds you he'll be there with you for anything.

"I loved him," you confessed,

"And it hurts a little too much," your voice trembling with the rawness of your emotions.

The words carry out the heavy burden lifted from your chest. The emotions finally became too much for you to bear with tears welling up in your eyes.

That night, Beom Suk listened you tentatively. You told him everything that has happened between you and Jaehyun, along with the saseng you met along the way.

He comforted you with his words to your wounded heart. But as the night wore on, Beom Suk gently reminded you to focus on the task at hand – the upcoming tour.

"Y/N, I know it's difficult," he began softly, his voice filled with empathy. "But you're not alone. We're all here for you, every step of the way."

"Remember," he said with a reassuring smile, "fans are counting on us to deliver. Let's give it our all, together."

You nodded in agreement, grateful for Beom Suk's wise words and encouragement. Though the road ahead may be difficult, you knew that with Beom Suk by your side, you were ready to face whatever challenges came your way.

Bringing along the lingering tension between you and Jaehyun, you managed to pull yourself together for the tour, throwing yourself into your work with renewed determination. Each performance was a testament to your resilience, a reminder that you were capable of rising above the pain and focusing on the task at hand.

You also you had it enough with Rose after the night she texted. You realised that stooping to her level would only perpetuate the cycle of toxicity and invasion of privacy that had plagued Jaehyun's life.

So with Beom Suk encouragement, you courageously decide to report her to the company, determined to protect Jaehyun and members from the invasive tactics of sasaeng fans.

Soon the truth came to light – one of Jaehyun's stalkers was working at SM Entertainment, a breach of trust that sent shockwaves through the fandom. In response, the company took immediate action, terminating Rose's employment and sending a clear message that such behaviour would not be tolerated.

As the tour came to an end, you found yourself facing a new chapter in your career – working on the debut of a new boy group for SM Entertainment. The opportunity to spearhead such an important project filled you with excitement and anticipation, pushing aside the lingering thoughts of Jaehyun and the unresolved tension between you.

Yet, as the debut day arrived and the new boy group took the stage for their first performance, you felt a sense of pride and accomplishment wash over you. In that moment, all thoughts of the past were pushed aside, replaced by a sense of excitement for the future and the promise of new beginnings.

Years passed, and yet the situation continued to simmer, unresolved and unspoken, until this day. Despite the passage of time, the tension between you and Jaehyun remains an unspoken truth, a silent reminder of the complexities of love and the scars it leaves behind.

Jaehyun arrived at the wedding hall, he was dressed neatly in his black suit with his hair pulled up. An old man greeted him at the hall door which he assume is your father, soon he was escorted to his seat along with the members at the table.

"Glad you made it", Johnny patted his back, welcoming him next to his seat.

The light dimmed as they started the ceremony, all the lights reflected on the crystal chandelier making the hall look dreamy. The band starts playing a lovely melody at the corner of the hall.

"It's just too perfect", Jaehyun thought.

The guests began to clap their hands when they announced that the bride was entering. Jaehyun did not dare to face you, he kept his head forward to the stage while others were already admiring you down the aisle. Tangled with emotions, he knew he shouldn't have missed this moment of you. It might hurt him dearly but he would rather get drunk all night than miss your once-in-a-lifetime moment. He adjusted himself in his seat and turned towards to direction.

Your dress was serenely beautiful and looked ethereal in the soft light. With that smile you put on, it does show you are happier now.

He smiled, reflecting on the joy you brought into his life.

"She's really pretty", Johnny commented on the table.

"She is"

"Didn't you say you had a crush on her back then?", he whispered to Jaehyun.

"I did, it's just I found myself back to Daeun"

"Then, you should have married her!"

Jaehyun's eyes went back to you. How he imagine it was him next to you, instead of Beom Suk. Bitter truth, he was hopelessly in love with someone of the married couple.

"I should", he said while his eyes were serenade by you.

"I should have".

-- ★🎸🎧⋆｡ °⋆ --

#jaehyun #jaehyun angst #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #nct 127 #nct scenarios #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x y/n #jaehyun x you

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cerise-on-top · 3 months

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Ooh, what if Price/Ghost/Gaz/Laswell came across their childhood best friend? Reuniting with reader who was there for them through thick and thin, until they joined the military and lost contact 🙏

I've been reading/re-reading some of your works!! They're so good! Also, I'm sorry those teenagers were pricks to you, hope you have some better days soon!

Hello! I have to say, I'm genuinely surprised anyone reads my rambles in the tags, I didn't think anyone would, but thank you! You don't know how much I appreciate it! Today was already a much better day, which is why I decided to write and post two requests today! This is a lovely request, very nice! Love me some platonic stuff as well! Sometimes all you need is a good friend by your side!

Price, Gaz, Ghost and Laswell Come Across their Childhood Best Friend

Price: He actually thinks about you from time to time, more often than he’d like to admit. You were a good person in his eyes, always there for him no matter what he went through, which is something he could appreciate. His childhood wasn’t particularly bad, but he had some days where he would have loved to simply throw in the towel, which is normal, though. Price was a rowdy guy when he was young, so you likely either went along with some of his ideas or were kind enough to talk him out of them. Either way, he appreciated having you around, so seeing you again would be quite the surprise, he didn’t think he ever would again. If he’s on a mission, then the talk will be kept short, but afterwards he’ll make sure to seek you out again, catch up a bit and ask you how you’ve been. Price didn’t expect to have missed you this much, but he only realized that once he saw you. You’ll either be going to one of the cafes you used to visit nearby, or maybe sit down on a park bench and maybe eat some sandwiches together, just like you used to during the good old times. Since you’d likely be around his age, so roughly 37-38, you’d have a lot to tell. Roughly 22 years you need to catch up on. He’s willing to talk to you, tell you about his career, how he's been doing, about the people he’s met and how he’s feeling. Considering this much time has passed, there’s a good chance you’ve both mellowed out quite a bit, but it isn’t unpleasant, you’re both mature people now. He likes hearing about everything you’ve accomplished, it’s like you became a new person during all those years. It’s so lovely to him, he sort of can’t believe it. Whether it’s a coincidence, or maybe you sought him out, it doesn’t matter, spending time with you again brings back all those memories he thought he had since forgotten about. He laughs, he smiles, he frowns. He’s a bit more expressive with you, but really wants to reminisce about the good old times. Even so, he hopes to be able to see you again more often, so you’ll likely exchange numbers. This time he tries to make sure to not lose contact with you and will text you every once in a while.

Gaz: When he was a child, Gaz was a lot calmer than he is today, a very quiet kid. He had always been a good boy, a gift in the eyes of many, but he wasn’t as active a child as one would imagine. Ergo he didn’t have very many friends until he became older either, but he was loyal to the few he did have. You were one of them. As you slowly started to grow apart, he started to miss you, but didn’t want to bother you either, as much as he would have loved to do so. So I’m sure you can imagine the surprise on his face when he found you at the mall the two of you would hang out in during rainy days. Gaz has become more confident, so he’d immediately walk up to you once he recognises you and start talking. Like Price, he’d be pleasantly surprised to just see you in such a mundane place, but won’t question it. Or complain about it either. In fact, if you’re not carrying anything heavy, he’d be the one to suggest going out to eat or drink something. Again, either a small and quiet cafe or a small restaurant. Maybe you’d go to a place you liked when you were kids, if it’s still open. Regardless, it’d be hard to get him to shut up with how excited he is to have you around. It’s a calm kind of excitement, but he’s happy, and that’s what’s important. It’s very likely that he’ll pay for your food, even if you insist he shouldn’t, but it’s not like he has any other use for his money. Chatting with him about the good old times is very sweet, he likes to bring up all the good things. But eventually, he’ll thank you for everything you’ve done for him and how happy he was to have you as a friend. Considering there were very few people who tried to get to know him, he was quite lonely, but you fixed that. You made everything better. From the pain on his knee when he fell as you gave him a band-aid, to the pain in his heart when the other children ridiculed him. Like Price, he’ll ask you if you want his number so you could continue to keep in contact with each other. He knows it’ll likely never be the same again, but he can pretend everything is as good as it used to be back when he was young. He’d love to spend time with you again.

Ghost: This man has had one of the worst childhoods imaginable. He was abused by his father, and the only friends he had aside from you were his mother and his brother. Barely anyone was kind towards him or accepted him considering he had always been the weird kid. No one but you wanted to spend time with him. Needless to say, Ghost had taken a liking to you when he was younger. You spent your time with him, you even defended him when some of the other kids ridiculed him. And now, 12 years later, he finds you running after a coin you accidentally dropped on the ground, bumping into him as you did so. He’d be wide eyed at first, a bit quiet as well. Once you left he never would have thought he’d ever find someone like you again, but here you were, just as quiet and surprised to see him. Ghost would pick up the coin for you and ask you how you’ve been. It had been a while. Although he��s not usually one to smile, especially not in public, you could see him faintly do so. He’s become a quiet man, so he won’t be talking too much about everything, especially not everything that happened after he joined the military, but he’s more than willing to talk to you about other matters. His life has become better over the past few years, but that doesn’t mean he isn't scarred still. He’ll offer you a walk to just about anywhere, really, even if the final destination will always end up being one of the places you used to hang out in as children. An abandoned house, a park, a mall. Manchester is a fairly large city, so there’s much to see. It would be a bit rough to catch up with him entirely, but he loves to hear about everything you’ve accomplished. You’ve become such a mature person, it warms his heart to see how far you’ve come in life. Back then, when everything was so bleak, when neither of you thought you’d see your 28th birthdays, everything was different. But now, you’re smiling at him as you’re drinking your milkshake. You seem to be better off, and so is he. It makes him nostalgic to see all of this, but he’s happy. Ghost will offer you to come to his home if you want. Even now, he still loves you dearly as a friend and couldn’t be happier about the fact he’s found you again by chance.

Laswell: When she was young she was a healthy mix of rowdy and good. While she never caused much trouble, she did stand up for herself when she needed to. However, this alone was enough to get the attention of some awful people. People either liked her or hated her, there usually was no inbetween for them. Some people did try to bully her, but it never ended well since she would fight for herself, plus she had some good friends who would do the same for her. However, none of them could compare to you, as you were her best friend. All her joys she would celebrate with you, and all of her sadness she would share with you. Back then, things were simpler, something small meant the end of the world, but you always had each other’s backs. Laswell tries to not think about you too much since you slowly drifting apart is quite painful to her. As she grew older, she learned to live with the pain and it didn’t bother her as much. Still, she was very happy when you were sending her a message after all this time. She may have been at work, but responded to you immediately, having missed you just as much as you missed her. Once you meet up it’s evident you’ve both grown a lot older. Laswell has been working for the CIA since her twenties, so it’s been almost thirty years. You have a lot to catch up on, but you take your time, eating at a fancy restaurant and spending hours there, laughing at everything that’s happened. Laswell would show you photos of all the places she’s visited during her downtime. She’s seen almost the entire world, some of it with her wife, some of it without her. Although she doesn’t usually tell people she’s married, to another woman too, she knows you’re a safe person, you’ve always accepted her as she was. Considering how happy you looked when you saw her wife, she continued to tell you about the world. But you get your chance to tell her about everything that’s happened to you as well. If the conversation goes especially well, Laswell might invite you to a few outings every once in a while, after you’ve met up a few more times. Plus you get to meet her wife eventually as well, which is a real privilege. Considering how much she loves her and wants to protect her, not many know about her. It’ll be fun either way since you get to make more memories together again.

#cod #cod x reader #john price #john price x reader #price x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #kate laswell #kate laswell x reader #seeing that someone read my rambles actually really cheered me up yesterdy so thank you for that!#this request was really sweet. I have a friend who I miss so dearly even now #I still dream of her from time to time. she was my best friend but I never was hers #Sometimes I wish I had the guts to text her but I'm awkward and can't hold a conversation to save my life so I'll have to live like that #oh well! it happens unfortunately! wish it didn't though!#anyway as much as I love to romance the lads and the lasses there's something so wholesome about friendship too!#especially a really good one where you can goof around and have fun and give each other sweet gifts!#Love friendship! friendships are fun! I'm glad I get to write platonic stuff every once in a while as well!#I'm not a romantic person at all irl but I can appreciate a good friendship!#thank you for this request it was very cool and epic!

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jamiewintons · 4 months

Text

All in a Day’s Work (Felix Fickelgruber/F!Reader)

Summary: Being Mr. Fickelgruber’s personal assistant involves a lot of duties that one might not expect, but you’re willing to go that extra mile.

Tags/Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY!), Oral Sex (M!Receiving), Desk Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Implied Exhibitionism, Unprofessional Behaviour, Boss/Employee, A little bit of degradation, softness towards the end.

A/N: Hope you enjoy 😘 The idea of Fickelgruber asking you whether you prefer the taste of chocolate or something else (😉) was inspired by @reluctantjoe

Word Count: 1922

Fickelgruber Tag List: I don't have one yet!! Send me an ask (off-anon or with the blog you want me to tag noted in the ask) and I'll make sure to tag you anytime I write stuff for him ❤️

~~~

Things like this certainly hadn’t been in your job description, but at this point, you weren’t really complaining. For starters, the pay was amazing, and Mr. Fickelgruber gave you all kinds of perks when you did a good job. He wasn’t the most generous man you’d ever met, but he always appreciated your hard work.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice strained as he tangled his fingers in your hair. You moaned softly at the praise, and the vibrations sent bolts of pleasure through his entire body. That made him moan too, and tug gently on your hair.

Your knees were beginning to ache where you were kneeling, but honestly, you didn’t mind too much. You were far too focused on the task Mr. Fickelgruber had assigned to you to think about the pain, because you were nothing if not efficient.

Your tongue swirled gracefully around his shaft as you took him deeper into your mouth, the movement making Fickelgruber’s hips buck upwards slightly. It almost made you gag, but you were used to it - you’d been his personal assistant for nearly two years, and you’d been fulfilling his… non-professional needs for just under half that time.

And because of that, you could read him and his reactions quite well. You could tell from the sound of his breathing and the way his fingers were rubbing against your scalp that he was getting close. Any moment now he would either cum down your throat or pull out of your mouth - sometimes he’d cum on your face, while at other times he’d want to fuck you properly (and that’s how you knew when you’d done a particularly good job).

Then, like clockwork, he used his grip on your hair to pull you off of him. He hadn’t cum yet, so you knew that meant your work was far from finished. His free hand grabbed for the box of chocolates that he always kept in his desk drawer for these exact occasions. Your mouth was still open, and Fickelgruber placed the little treat on your tongue once he’d removed it from its wrapping.

"There you go, my dear," he said in a tone that was almost affectionate, but it was offset by the nearly painful grip he still had on your hair. The chocolate was absolutely delicious, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes and moan while you savoured the taste. This made him smirk, a quiet, dark chuckle escaping him. "Tell me, which do you enjoy more? The taste of my cock, or chocolate?"

Once you’d swallowed the chocolate, you spoke. "I can’t decide, sir," you said softly, staring up at him with your eyes wide. "I like both too much. I don’t think I could pick one over the other."

"Well, I suppose that’s an adequate answer." Fickelgruber smirked, finally letting go of your hair. Whether it was his cock or his chocolate that you were tasting, it was all him, wasn’t it? He pulled his chair back slightly so that you could stand up, and once you had, he reached out to idly play with the hem of your skirt. "Now, you know what to do, my dear." He held his finger up and twirled it around - a silent order for you to turn around.

You did so, and anticipating what he would ask next, you bent forward over his desk. Your skirt - which was scandalously short by professional standards, though Mr. Fickelgruber had called it your 'special uniform' - rode up so that Fickelgruber could get a glimpse of your panties beneath.

Fickelgruber snickered. "Oh, I am so glad to have an assistant that takes the initiative." His hand trailed up the back of your thigh until he reached your skirt, which he then pushed up. Now that he had a proper view of your undergarments, he let his finger brush over the wet spot that had formed there. "So wet already, dear, and I haven’t even touched you yet," he told you in a teasing voice. "You really must love having my cock in your mouth."

"Yes, sir," you moaned, trying to push your hips back against his finger in an attempt to get some more friction. In response, Fickelgruber laughed softly and gently swatted you on the backside. You whimpered slightly at the sting, and immediately ceased your movements. "Sorry, sir."

His fingers found the waistband of your panties, and he slowly began to pull them down your thighs, savouring the sight of you bent over for him. Fickelgruber loved how obedient you were, how needy you always were for him. But most of all, he loved that you were all his, and that he was the only man who had the pleasure of having you like this.

You heard Fickelgruber stand up from his chair, and then you felt his warm fingers teasing your pussy, moving from your clit down to your entrance and then back again. It took all of your willpower to not squirm. His finger dipped into your wetness for a moment, before he pulled it back out. He leaned over you to whisper into your ear. "I think you’re more than ready. Isn’t that right, my dear?"

"Mmm, yes, sir… please…" You nodded frantically, bracing yourself for him to finally enter you. He stood back up straight behind you, and you felt his cock against your entrance. He didn’t push inside right away, however - instead taking a few moments to tease you. You didn't complain, because you knew that it would be more than worth the wait.

You let out an almost pathetic whimper - which you tried to cover up by clapping your hand over your mouth, but you weren't quick enough - when you felt him sink inside of you. Though you couldn't see, he smirked at the noise, and placed his hands on your hips.

Fickelgruber let out a deep sigh, giving the both of you just a few seconds to adjust before he began to move. He moved slowly but deep and hard, making sure you felt absolutely everything with each thrust he made inside of you. You were sure that your brain had switched off already, resting your cheek against the surface of the desk beneath you. If you weren’t careful, you’d probably end up drooling. It wouldn’t be the first time.

You didn’t even realise how much noise you were making, but your curses and pleas of "sir" and "Mr. Fickelgruber" were echoing throughout the large room. Fickelgruber loved it - the idea that he could turn such an intelligent and hard-working woman into an absolute mess who could think of nothing but him and what he was doing to you. He valued the power he had over you more than anything else, though he’d probably never admit such a thing out loud.

When he pulled out suddenly, you whined in annoyance, but Fickelgruber simply tutted before flipping you over so you were laying on your back. Before you could even open your mouth to say anything - if you were even capable at this point - he’d already grabbed onto your thighs and thrust himself deep inside you once again.

"You’re being so noisy, my dear," Fickelgruber said with a somewhat mocking tone, leaning down over you so that he could whisper in your ear as he sped up the pace of his hips. Then, he brought his mouth to your neck so that he could suck bruises into the sensitive skin, which you’d have a lot of fun trying to cover up so none of your coworkers saw it. Of course, this did nothing to keep you quiet, only making your moans louder, but that was exactly what he wanted. "If you’re not careful, someone might hear you, and come in here to check what’s going on. Is that what you want, hmm? For everyone to see what a little slut you are for me?"

Having locked the door yourself before you went down on him, you knew that there was no chance of someone walking in and seeing what was happening. But the thought of it alone, combined with the way Fickelgruber was whispering in your ear, made your pussy clench around his cock. He laughed, loving how easy it was to affect you, but it quickly turned into a moan.

"Oh, you like that idea, do you? I suppose you’re even more naughty than I thought." Fickelgruber’s words were scolding, but you knew very well how much he loved having you like this. "That’s what you want, is it? For people to see you getting fucked over my desk like a whore? Maybe next time I’ll take you up against the window, and let everyone on the street below see that you belong to me."

That was it. That was what pushed you over the edge. The combination of possessiveness and degradation that made your head spin. You let out a loud sob as your climax hit you, writhing helplessly beneath him as he continued fucking you through it. Fickelgruber shifted so that he could kiss your lips to quiet you down a little - you really were getting loud enough that it might draw attention now, and he liked keeping you as his little secret. For now at least.

Eventually, he couldn’t hold himself back any longer - not with how your warm, wet walls were squeezing him for dear life - and he came as well, buried as deep inside you as possible while his warmth flooded you. He moaned against your lips, and the way your name sounded when he uttered it in such ecstasy made you feel like you could finish again. But thankfully, you didn’t, which was probably a positive since you were already exhausted after one orgasm.

"Good girl," Fickelgruber mumbled breathlessly, pressing kisses against your neck and jawline as both of you slowly recovered from your highs, and there seemed to be a genuine softness in the way he spoke to you that hadn’t been present the first time you’d done this. Now that you thought about it, it almost seemed as if he’d become more and more fond of you each time you had sex, and he’d certainly become more possessive as of late. Almost as if he actually had feelings for you. Maybe. Your stomach fluttered at the possibility.

He gave you one last kiss on the lips as he slowly pulled his softening cock out of you, gazing approvingly at the sight of some of his cum leaking from your pussy. Fickelgruber quickly pulled your panties back up for you, keeping any more of it from dripping out. That was quite the contrast to your first tryst also - he’d been somewhat dismissive then, and this was the first time he’d ever helped you redress, even if it was just helping you put your underwear back on.

"I suppose we had better get back to work, hadn’t we, dear?" Fickelgruber told you with a smile as he fixed his trousers and rebuckled his belt, before sitting down in his chair once again. With shaking legs, you stood up from his desk, intending to walk back to your own workstation, but he grabbed you by the wrist to stop you before you could get too far. Then, he gave you another quick kiss before letting you go.

It’s safe to say that you found it difficult to concentrate on your work after that, but you powered through, as you always did. Fickelgruber was glad that he'd hired you, for oh so many reasons.

#fickelgruber x reader #felix fickelgruber x reader #wonka x reader #wonka 2023 x reader #felix fickelgruber imagine #felix fickelgruber fanfiction #felix fickelgruber smut #wonka 2023 imagine #wonka 2023 fanfiction #wonka 2023 smut #x reader smut #x reader fic #x reader fanfiction #mari's stuff

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probably-writing-x · 1 year

Text

The Side You See

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Nobody ever understood how somebody like you could be with somebody like Rafe. I mean, come on, you two were polar opposites. But when everyone else would disappear, and it was just the two of you left, he was every bit a new person - a side of himself that he would show when it was only your eyes that could see him.

Warnings: Mentions of drug and alcohol use, some sexual hints if you really squint, drunk and hungover Rafe

Author’s Note: Thank you SO SO much for the love on my last couple of posts, I was so sure nobody would be bothered if I started posting again but you guys have exceeded every single expectation I had. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, I can’t wait to be writing more for you lovely bunch <3

(Also, please let me know if you want me to start up a taglist again on my posts if you’d like me to tag you in future work)

The party was winding down from full swing, bodies spilling into every room of the house, music pounding and drinks flowing. That was something people always guaranteed when Rafe hosted a party - nobody would be going home bored, and barely anybody would be going home sober. He made exceptions for you, and really only you. You’d never been much of a drinker, beyond a glass of champagne at a family wedding, and that’s one of the reasons why it surprised people so much when you were the one Rafe went after - the one he fell in love with. You were like polar opposites from what people could see - you sipped a red cup of lemonade, and he sniffed another line. But the thing about those differences, was that Rafe had learnt his limits when he had started dating you. He could still get drunk, get high, do anything he wanted to at a party, but he was never as bad as he used to be. This was his vice, the parties, the drugs, the drink, it was a release for him away from the stress of dealing with everything his family threw at him. You knew he had his troubles, everyone knew that, but this didn’t seem like much of a big one in comparison to everything else.

“Hey baby!” His familiar deep voice calls out to you, soon accompanied by his arm slinking around your waist.

You knew he was drunk when he started calling you pet names in front of other people. They all looked at him like he was no longer himself.

“Having fun?” You laugh, feeling him drop more of his weight onto you as you wrap an arm around him to steady him more before an inevitable fall.

He hums, dipping his head to bury into your neck. Since the two of you started dating, he had become the clingiest drunk you’d ever known. Not that you were complaining all that much. Though it still took everyone by surprise when he was so public in his affections - the heartless Rafe showing a heart??

“I’ve missed you,” He mutters into your neck, kissing the soft skin there.

“Rafe, we’ve been at the same party all night,” You roll your eyes, turning so that he can wrap both arms around you, your chests bumping together.

“You look hot,” He whispers the words, his eyes scanning over you like he still didn’t believe he was the one that got to tell you that every day.

You were wearing a cropped tank top and shorts, with one of his big shirts open over it all, so long that it grazed the middle of your thighs. He loved when you wore his clothes, a possessive trait he’d never lose - in the best way possible.

“Rafe, honey, how much have you had?” You ask him, dragging a hand through his growing hair, trying to force his eyes onto you.

He squints for a prolonged moment like he’s trying to focus on you, “I can’t remember.”

It was late by now, and he’d been drinking since dinner with Topper, and you were sure he was getting to be more and more of a lightweight.

“Do you want to go to bed?” You offer, running your hand down his arm, where the curves of his biceps clung to his shirt.

He grins, clearly impressed by your suggestion, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to your lips before turning around. Only then does he start shouting at the dispersing crowd to leave, swinging his arms around, taking cups out of peoples’ hands. They all inevitably oblige, because this was Rafe; you’d be stupid to not listen to him.

Eventually, only the two of you remain as Topper and Kelce shout a slurred goodbye and something about wrapping it up, before they both walk off in the same direction.

“Just us,” Rafe mumbles, stumbling in his steps as he walks back over to you on the porch.

You laugh, “Babe, do you need to be sick?”

He shushes you, flopping down onto the couch along one side of the wooden fence.

“You don’t want to sleep out here,” You roll your eyes at him, crouching down to his head height.

“But its so comfy,” He slurs, eyes closed and lips parting.

“Rafe?”

Your only response is a soft snore from his parted lips, rumbling in the air between the two of you. You pull the throw from the back of the couch and drape it over him, taking one of the empty plant pots and setting it in front of him in case his stomach eventually rejected everything he’d put into his body, and you go back into the empty house to curl up on the sofa. Close enough that you could still see him.

~~~

In the morning, you’re up when the sun is and Rafe is still flat out snoring on the porch sofa. He’s on his stomach with his hair spraying in different directions, his head on its side and his eyes flickering every so often in his slumber. You potter around the house clearing up the remaining mess left over from the party. There are enough red cups to fill up two full bin bags, clattering around the plastic with the beer bottles and cans. Once the lounge and kitchen are completely cleared, you go outside onto the porch and start picking up the bottles left out there too.

Rafe groans and shifts a little on the couch, his arm falling off of the cushion and dropping, his hand hitting the floor. It forces his eyes open, but they are slow and reluctant to do so.

“Morning, handsome,” You laugh, seeing the delirious confusion washing his face, clearly not sure where he was and with no idea as to how they’d got there.

Rafe grumbles, trying to move on the couch and coming to terms with where he was, “What happened?”

You stop putting the bottles into the bag and set it down, “Well, the bed felt a bit too far away last night, so you slept here.”

He groans again and stretches out his arms trying to push himself up, “Where did you sleep?”

“On the sofa,” You respond, your words much clearer than his.

“What?” Rafe had a thing about that, he didn’t like the idea of you sleeping on your own because he knew you never slept well.

He sits up against the back of the sofa and drags a hand over his face as if trying to clear the fuzzy feeling away from his head.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve been bad last night,” He shakes his head, “I can’t even remember what I had.”

“It’s okay,” You chuckle, “You weren’t bad, but your friends will probably have something to say about what you were saying to me.”

He groans again and stretches out his arms, “Cm’ere.”

“Let me just finish cleaning up,” You comment, throwing a few more bottles in the bag.

“That can wait,” He tugs at his shirt you’d been wearing, now buttoned up around you with nothing underneath.

You stumble over and he catches you in his arms, pulling you into his chest.

“Hi,” Rafe mumbles, burying his nose into your neck and breathing in the lingering smell of your perfume.

“How are you feeling?” You ask him, shifting your legs to either side of his thighs so that you straddled his hips.

“Like I need to sleep for another ten hours,” He says, shifting his arms around you so that they held you impossibly closer.

“You can go back to sleep, we haven’t got any plans today,” You nod, dragging hands through his hair to fix the curtains into place, “I haven’t got much left to clean up.”

“I don’t think you understood me,” He comments, shifting his weight before dropping back down onto the couch, with you now laying on top of him, “If I’m staying, you’re staying.”

You laugh and push yourself up on your hands, towering over his form. His features seem softer in the mornings, especially when he was hungover. His eyes are just a little shut, still adjusting to the light, his lips soft, his jaw lacking the tension that he normally held. You run your hand over his cheek, tracing his cheekbones down towards his jawline. Rafe tilts his head into your touch, tilting his head eventually and kissing softly at your fingertips.

“Can we just stay like this?” He hums, lifting one hand away from your waist to move it up and lace his fingers with yours, playing with the contact of your hand in his.

“Forever or just for today?”

He narrows his eyes, “I can’t see any reason we’d have to move.”

You laugh and press a kiss to the back of his hand, “Then we’ll stay.”

If his friends, or anyone on the island for that matter, saw him like this, they would think Rafe had a twin that they’d never met. They’d think that surely, Rafe Cameron didn’t wake up and cuddle his girlfriend and tell her he didn’t want to leave and kiss her with the softest touch. But this was him. This was every bit of the boyfriend you fell in love with, and continued to fall in love with a little more every morning.

“I love you (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” He’s half asleep, his eyes just closing, but he wouldn’t go to sleep without saying it this time.

“I love you too Rafe Cameron.”

His hands snake back low around your waist, gripping you tight against him and you let your head fall down onto his chest, listening to the slow drumming of his heartbeat. His legs find their way to tangle into yours and his breaths even out into sleep once more. In those moments, he was nothing but yours. And that’s how you wanted to stay.

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lovebugism · 1 year

Note

i need more of “the customer is always right” before i wither away and die <3 the anticipation of IT happening is quite literally killing me ilysm

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | b-minus

summary: eddie munson takes the unconquerable english midterm that's forced him to repeat senior year two times. dustin henderson gets a pep talk. uncle wayne gives his nephew a warning. you cook your eddie spaghetti some spaghetti. (17k)

pairing: virgin!eddie munson / f!reader

tags: idiots in love, experienced!reader, domestic bliss, staying the night, eddie munson tries to get used to being loved TW probable typos, swearing, discussions of being poor, talks of insecurities, kissing, heavy petting, oral sex (m!receiving) 18+ only!!

a/n: hi. hello. me again. you probably don't remember me because it's been almost TWO MONTHS. i'm really sorry about that btw this semester of college was sent from the actual depths of hell. please take this sixth installment of tcar and find it in your heart to forgive me <3 ily all xoxo

( PREVIOUSLY ) | ( MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

“Okay, this is officially the last time I let you drive me anywhere,” Eddie gripes from the passenger seat of your too tiny car as one excruciatingly happy ABBA song bleeds into another.

He shouldn’t have expected anything less. You’re made of the same stuff you listen to — sunshine and melted ice cream and summer breezes. You match the blue skies above you as you belt the lyrics to the song you seem to know by heart.

The sight makes Eddie grin to himself, still beaming no matter how hard he rolls his eyes.

This was the only good thing about the breaks of his van going haywire and having to bum a ride to school from you — getting to see more of you in your element.

As much as he loved having you in his passenger seat, bobbing your head to whatever rock song he’d popped into the cassette player, there was something entirely different about seeing you in the driver’s seat.

This car was your safe space, spotted with stickers on the console and polaroids on the speedometer, where you could sing any damn ABBA song you wanted to because it was your own little bubble where nothing could touch you.

Eddie’s grateful you let him see it, all these parts of you that you reveal slowly to him like so many tiny rays of sunshine.

It’s even better to witness with a full stomach, which was maybe the second good thing about driving with you. You picked him up with time to spare to get breakfast — to take the long route to school and watch the rising sun sparkle over Lover’s Lake. There was no reason to speed through town like a maniac because he wasn’t in a rush. Today might be the first time all year he’s not five minutes late to first period.

He tells you to sing louder when you get all shy and hyperaware of his gaze, feeding you bits of your breakfast — but only on the instrumental parts so you don’t miss your favorites. The boy props his arm on the center console and folds down the wrapper of your greasy, plain biscuit with his thumb so it doesn’t get in the way of your bite. He doesn’t even complain when you try to sing through the mouthful.

He figures that this is what love is. A part of it, at least. That stupid, philosophical feeling people have been trying to describe for ages is sitting right beside him — with crumbs sticking to the corners of her mouth as she mixes up the words to the Dancing Queen chorus.

Love isn’t butterflies or tight chests — it’s this. It’s letting a person listen to music you hate because you know they love it and not caring that they’re singing horrifically off-key.

And it’s not like Eddie’s in love with you or anything. He’s just got a lot of adoration for you. It’s the kind of innocent affection that makes him love ABBA and think you’re one of the best damn singers he’s ever heard in his life — even though neither would be particularly true if he didn’t care about you so much.

It’s sort of like the love he’s got for Dustin, to still care about the little shrimp even when he’s annoying him to no end. But, at the same time, it’s not like that at all. Because Dustin Henderson isn’t the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. Dustin Henderson doesn’t make him feel like his heart is being trampled by an entire stampede of zoo animals.

No one quite makes Eddie feel the way you do. But even if he was in love with you, he’s got no way of knowing the difference — between loving and being in love. The only thing he’s really sure of is that he doesn’t know a damn thing. And that the sick feeling in his stomach he gets every time he looks at you can’t possibly be normal.

“Oh, stop being such a baby,” you retort. Your words come slurred and slightly muffled through the bite of biscuit in your cheek. “I know you secretly like it.”

“Of course I do!” he shouts over the catchy bass guitar and your subsequent laughter. “It’s just not the kinda shit I wanna listen to right before I take the biggest test of my life.”

It’s true. The past two times he’s been forced to take Ms. O’Donnell’s impossible midterm exam, he's listened to the exact same song — ‘Ride the Lightning,’ Metallica. It’s the only song that gives him enough of an adrenaline rush to gather the confidence to fail the same test. Twice.

Eddie Munson is a creature of habit. Today marks the third anniversary of the dreaded day that makes or breaks his high school career, but instead of spending it with Metallica, he’s spending it with you. He wants to believe you’re a good luck charm or some kind of lucky omen, but he’s terrified of getting his hopes up.

Expect the worst, and you’ll never be disappointed. That’s what Uncle Wayne always said.

“I think ‘When I Kissed the Teacher’ has plenty of useful advice, Eddie Spaghetti.”

The boy turns to you with a bemused wide-eyed gaze. “If you’re suggesting I makeout with Ms. O’Donnell to pass her class, I’m gonna hurl— like actually hurl. And I will deliberately do it all over the floor of your car.”

“Would you rather repeat your senior year? Again?”

“Yes,” he answers without missing a beat and with a very enthusiastic nod that makes his wild curls sway around his face. “I would rather be a senior for the rest of my life than kiss Ms. O’Donnell.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you won’t have to, right? Because you’re totally gonna ace this thing.”

This is what you’ve been doing for over a week now — twisting everything negative into something more overtly positive. You meet Eddie’s pessimism and self-doubt with a sort of hopefulness he lost somewhere between the first and second time he got held back.

You force him to study in the gentlest way possible because you’re never anything but soft with him. You make him pretty little flashcards and flip through them with him on the opposite side of his bed, obviously more enthusiastic about the whole thing than he is. You give him sympathetic pecks on his cheek when he gets a question wrong and kiss him totally breathless when he gets the odd one right.

Eddie would be lying if he said the incentive didn’t help at least a little bit.

There is no hint of impatience or sign of hubris that makes him feel stupid. You just teach him to be kinder to himself with tiny little reminders that you’re doing all this right along with him.

“Considering I’ve failed it twice already, I highly doubt that, sweetheart,” he counters, and he’s kidding — mostly. He says it with a teasing lilt and a twinkle in his squinted eyes, but you know that’s his way of covering up that he’s totally serious.

He really doesn’t think he can do it, pass this stupid exam. He’s got absolutely no faith in himself — but that’s okay, because you’ve got all the faith in him in the world.

“Well, that’s because you didn’t have me to help you study,” you argue, just before accepting the last piece of biscuit he plucks from the parchment and offers to you.

You speak through the mouthful. “But now you do! And we’ve been going over this all week and—” You cut yourself off to swallow the dry pastry. “—And you totally got this. You’re gonna blow ‘em outta the park, Eddie Spaghetti. I can feel it.”

Your optimism makes him smile even though he doesn’t really feel like smiling. He lolls his head against the seat to look at you, finds you with a pretty grin and tiny biscuit crumbs on the corners of your mouth, and has the sudden urge to tell you that he loves you.

It comes out of nowhere. It bubbles up all at once like vomit and startles him with its unexpectedness. The sudden and unfamiliar feeling makes him feel sick, like he just went upside down on a rollercoaster. Whoever said love felt like butterflies was a liar because it feels a whole lot more like getting punched in the stomach.

The words rise from his throat like bile and linger on the edge of his tongue. Eddie forces himself to swallow them back down again. The unsaid ‘Holy fuck, I love the shit outta you’ tastes far more bitter going down.

“What do I get if I ace it then, huh?” he wonders after an awkward blink of silence.

“Uh, I don’t know,” you shrug. “Your diploma.”

“I meant as a reward, dummy.”

“I feel like graduating high school is enough of a reward.”

“I just think I should be compensated for a job well done, is all,” he proposes with a lopsided grin. The teasing nature of his words drips from his mouth like honey.

You glance at him once, eyes wide and dumbfounded, then back to the road. “Eddie Munson…” you scold in a lighthearted lilt. “Get your head outta the gutter. It’s not even eight o’clock.”

That sort of thing wouldn’t have bothered you before. Any other time, you would’ve been all too happy to pull over and jerk him off in a barren parking lot, relieve all his pent-up stress about the exam in the form of a quick handjob. But you’ve been quite obviously keeping your hands to yourself since he told you he was a virgin.

You were serious about what you said before, about starting over, and Eddie learned that very quickly. You take to giving him tiny little pecks on the cheek and holding his sweaty hand in yours and hardly anything else — like you’re a couple of kids going steady.

Eddie likes it, though, the comforting nature of your unhurried disposition. He just hates the ache it leaves him with.

“It’s all I’m gonna be thinking about,” he confesses with a scrunched nose. “Just so ya know.”

“As long as it helps you pass,” you respond with the shake of your head.

“As long as it helps me pass…” Eddie echoes, quieter.

“Just think about the biggest kiss I’m gonna give you when I see you again,” you tell him, flashing him a beam as you slow at a stop sign. You trap your smile between your teeth and flash him a glance that can only be described as whimsical — full of shy smiles and fluttering lashes and sparkling eyes. “‘Cause I’m gonna kiss you absolutely stupid, Eddie Munson.”

A rose-colored hue sprinkles along the apples of his cheeks. He never thought a threat could sound so appealing.

“Cool…” is the only thing he could think to mutter in the moment, too busy trying not to smile too wide. He turns his glowing cheeks towards his lap and purses his smile towards his fiddling fingers. “But, uh, I have Hellfire after school, so… Maybe tomorrow?”

You meet his disappointed glance with a shrug. “You could come over after if you want?”

He wants to. He always wants to.

“It’ll probably be late.”

“Then just stay over.”

Your offer comes effortlessly but strikes a deep feeling of complexity within him. Eddie doesn’t know why it makes him so suddenly nervous, only that it makes his palms sweat almost instantly.

The two of you haven’t crossed that threshold yet — of sharing a bed to sleep. He’d catch you dozing on occasion, slouched against his headboard with your head on his shoulder, and he’d wake you. Not because it made him uncomfortable, but because he didn’t want your neck to ache.

You’d rouse with a groggy apology — “I should probably leave before Bowie starves to death and I drool all over your shoulder,” you’d tell him.

And it’s not like Eddie wanted you to leave, but he was more than happy to sleep alone. What if he snores obnoxiously loud or he does something gross in his sleep? If you got instantly turned off by some sleeping habit he didn’t even know he had, he thinks it might destroy him.

Eddie can’t control the front he puts up around everyone when he’s sleeping. And for a boy who’s still trying to impress a pretty girl, that’s a very frightening thought.

“Uh, okay… Are you— Are you sure?” he stammers.

His apprehension confuses you. The offer hadn’t felt like that big of a deal to you. “I mean… yeah? We practically did it over the phone last week. It’ll be just like that — but, you know, in person.”

“Right… Okay.”

“I can make us dinner, and we can watch a movie or something,” you propose and grin at the daydream of it all. You wouldn’t have to miss Eddie if he was beside you all night. You wouldn’t have to drift off to thoughts of him either, because he’d be right there. “Bowie would be stoked if you stayed over. She’s practically obsessed with you.”

The thought makes Eddie smile to himself. His heart swells at the idea that other parts of your life have already started to accept him. It makes him feel all warm and fuzzy in his leather jacket and ripped jeans and chunky metal rings.

“Her mom is too, right?” he asks you, mostly playful. He smirks all smug, but his cinnamon-tinted gaze gleams with sincerity.

“Oh, obviously,” you scoff without a second thought. “Have you seen her? She can’t get enough of you…” Your teasing lilt and soft smile fades as you squint at him. “Don’t tell her I told you that, though.”

Eddie pinches his thumb and forefinger together, zipping them across his lips, then rolling down the window to toss the imaginary lock out of it.

Wind whips through the small car with vigor, making a wild halo of Eddie’s already less-than-tamed hair. The intrusion forces you to squint, even more so when you laugh.

The sound of your giggling is like glitter or sunbeams. It’s as bright as yellow and soft like summer rain. It makes him smile, too, because that’s all he wanted to do in the first place — make you laugh. It’s all he ever wants to do.

Eddie cranks the lever to roll the window back up again as you tell him: “And, you know, if you stayed over, then I could give you that reward we were talking about.”

You’ve successfully stooped to his level now: head stuck in the very depths of the gutter. Most of your thoughts are innocent, cooking for him and holding him while you slept. Others, not so much.

“And that would be…” he trails off with raised brows.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you squint at him as you turn the steering wheel to pull into the bustling parking lot of Hawkins High.

The place is as wretched as it always was. It hasn’t changed a bit, just sort of deteriorated with time. The nameplate on top of the building has started to grey and the tiger mural painted on the bricks is fading, but it’s still the same. The familiarity of it all hits you with an ice-cold pang of nostalgia.

“I would,” Eddie nods a very vigorous nod, all innocent and wide-eyed, as you park on the far side of the lot. “I would very much like to know.”

You lean across the console to press a swift kiss to his cheek. “You’ll find out later,” you assure him, lingering just ahead of his face. Closer by an inch or two and the tips of your noses would nudge against one another.

“Have mercy…” Eddie murmurs to himself, eyes and limbs suddenly heavy under the weight of his desire for you.

You made him promise he’d stay sober for the exam — no drinking the night before, no smoking while he got ready. Before now, he’d been perfectly clearheaded. Then you go and look at him with that look, and he’s instantly drunk on you.

He tries to close the distance between you but succeeds only in brushing your noses together before a loud honk blares from ahead of you. It sends the two of you jerking away from each other almost instantly, heads whipping toward the direction of the too loud beep.

It comes from Steve Harrington’s maroon Beemer that he’d parked just ahead of your Volvo. Him and his friends file out one by one — Robin from the passenger, Dustin Henderson from the back, and then Steve from the driver’s side.

The former two are beaming, far too happy for it to be so early. Steve looks more like a victim to the morning as he leans against his open car door. His smile looks like a wince and he props his wrist on the door, throwing his fingers up in the place of an actual wave. Dustin and Robin are far more enthusiastic with their gestures.

You and Eddie wave a tad bit awkwardly back at them.

“Look at him,” the boy says, trying and failing to hold back his laughter. “King Steve. Carpooling his kids like a real mom.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s a babysitter first and a human being second,” you joke, then more seriously tell him: “You don’t have to come over if you don’t want to, you know?”

“I know,” he nods. “But I want to.”

“Okay… I just— I don’t want it to seem like I’m trying to, you know, force you or something—”

“It didn’t.”

“—I was just saying it could be nice, you know? But I feel like it sounded like I was being a little pushy.”

“You weren’t.”

“And I don’t want you to be, like, scared to say no to me or something, you know? It wouldn’t hurt my feelings or anything, okay? I promise,” you ramble, partly lying because you know it would hurt a little, but you’d never tell him that. “The ball is totally in your court, so… Whatever you want to do, it’s completely—”

Your nervous blathering is brought to an unexpected halt when Eddie brings his hands to your face. He cups your cheeks in his palms, brushing his thumbs along the apples of them. The sleeves of his leather jacket tickle your chin. He sprayed his wrist with cologne this morning, you can tell; the musky cedarwood and tobacco are more prominent now.

The boy laughs softly when the suddenness of his action makes your eyes go wide, chuckling louder when he squeezes your cheeks and makes your lips pout softly.

“I wanna come over, okay?” Eddie assures through his laughter. “And you’re never annoying me when you ask. I promise. I’ll probably say yes to just about anything when it’s coming from you, sweetheart.”

“And you’re not just saying that?” you press, words slightly muffled with the way Eddie’s holding your face.

“I’m not just saying that,” he echoes more confidently. He shakes his head at you, then moves your jaw back and forth with his palms so he’s shaking yours too. You jerk away from him with a grin.

“I’ll see you later?” he asks you while he collects his things from the floor, which is just the little tin box he carries everywhere. He swears it has everything he needs in it. You assume it’s just a dull pencil and a couple of baggies of weed he plans to sell between lunch shifts.

“Yeah,” you answer with a smile.

He clicks the handle to open the car door, then kicks it open the rest of the way. He rolls his head back and puckers his lips for a kiss. You happily oblige him, meeting him halfway but turning at the last second so his mouth meets your cheek.

“Kids are watching,” you joke at his surprise.

And even though he’d only pecked your jaw, it makes Robin and Steve roll their eyes. “Gag me with a spoon,” the girl gripes as she walks past the hood of your car.

Dustin follows behind her, too preoccupied to care. He’s got an anticipatory grin on his face that reveals the blue and green braces on his teeth. The composition notebook in his hands has the Hellfire logo drawn in red and yellow sharpie on the front of it.

You’ve never met the kid, but he’s exactly how you’d expected him to be.

You heard a lot about him — from Steve mostly, but from Eddie too. Robin has the occasional story about the boy from whenever he visits Family Video. They all call him little shit most of the time, shrimp on occasion, and Dusty Bun when he’s done something particularly sweet.

It’s all from a lighthearted place, though. You figure it must be because Steve Harrington is waking up at seven in the morning to take some fourteen-year-old to school. And Eddie’s even worse — the second Dustin calls asking for a ride, he’s hopping in his van without a second thought.

The boy barely lets Eddie get out of the car before he starts bombarding him with questions about the latest D&D campaign. He prattles on and on about it while they walk towards the school, pointing adamantly at the notebook in his hands. You imagine it’s full of conspiracies and potential ways to beat the Cult of Vecna.

He’s so invested he doesn’t even care when Robin slips the cap from his hand and flips it backwards.

“Have the best day ever, kiddos!” you shout through your rolled-down car window.

You get a half-hearted wave from Dustin, but he doesn’t even glance at you when he does it. Eddie blows a dramatic kiss your way, but Robin rivals his sweetness with a middle finger and a rouge-tinted smile.

The bell chimes overhead, high-pitched and too familiar. The parking lot empties slowly, and the mindless muddled chatter fades too.

Steve saunters to your car after everyone else heads inside. He folds his arms along the passenger door as he leans down to look at you.

His hair is un-styled, but in a cool sort of way that only he can pull off. Chestnut strands fall down over his forehead while others are pushed back from where he’s ran his fingers through them. His jaw is dusted with a fine layer of stubble that sprinkles a shadow of a mustache on his cupid’s bow.

You’re both wearing the elements of your uniforms.

He’s got on a pair of faded jeans and the mandatory collared shirt, even though he swears Keith only makes him abide by the dress code. You’re wearing the all black get-up required of all Enzo’s waitresses. The flowy blouse and a-line skirt are now wrinkled from the drive over. You’re only missing your floral apron and Steve his forest green vest.

“How long until your shift starts?” he asks you, voice deep and gruff with the morning.

Your eyes flit down to the flashing clock on your dashboard, then back up to him. “I don’t have to go in until eleven today, but I was gonna see if I could pick up an extra shift.”

He nods and juts out his lips as he turns to squint down the parking lot. He looks back at you with a more hopeful gaze. “Wanna go fuck around at Family Video instead?”

And, of course, by “fuck around,” he means popping popcorn and playing some terrible, terrible slasher film on the television behind the counter that has more boobs and blood than actual plot.

You’ll stop for junk food on the way like you always do and spend the bulk of the movie tossing gummy bears and M&Ms into Steve’s mouth. You’ll waste hours talking about nothing, but it’ll feel like only minutes have gone by when it’s time for your shift.

“Are you kidding?” you scoff like it’s not the best idea you’ve heard all morning. Or maybe second best because Eddie’s proposal of a reward is still swirling around in the confines of your mind. “Of course I do.”

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

By sunset, Eddie Munson’s got a B-minus on his midterm, a crowd of kids singing his praises, and a date with the hottest woman on the planet. Life, as it turns out, was really starting to look up for the local freak.

“Best… campaign… ever!” Dustin shouts. He’s still so boyishly excited about the whole thing that he has to take in deep breaths before he says each word.

The emphatic exclamation echoes through the dim, empty hallway of Hawkins High. The rest of the school had left some time ago; all that’s left now are the scraps — the basketball douchebags, the theater geeks, the D&D nerds.

The Hellfire Club gets the entire west wing to themselves, and the unusual vacancy allows them to saunter down the corridor’s length like they own the damn place.

They don’t have to look over their shoulders for assholes that might trip them or stuff them into lockers. Still bubbling with the after-effects of such an utterly sadistic campaign, they feel like they’re on top of their own little world.

Eddie Munson hasn’t felt this good in a long, long time.

He spins on the heel of his worn-out sneaker and walks backwards ahead of his friends so he can examine each of their faces. He’d unleashed the whole Vecna lives twist that he’d been keeping in his metaphorical back pocket for some time now.

You were the one that gave him the idea, sprung it out of nowhere during a smoke session so many months ago. It feels like it’s been forever now. That was back when you were just his customer, and he was just your dealer — when all you needed was a little free weed, and Eddie just needed to pass a test.

You both somehow ended up with far more than either of you bargained for, but he’s not complaining. He hopes you aren’t either.

Dustin had sort of predicted Vecna’s resurgence. He’d scribbled it down in his journal with all the rest of his endless conspiracies. Well, actually, he suspected that Kas was still a villain and hadn’t slain Vecna like they thought — which wasn’t exactly right, but it was still pretty damn close. Eddie’s never met someone who cared so much about one of his campaigns.

So, needless to say, the curly-haired boy is beaming. His green-blue braces and pearly whites are on full display, partially from excitement but mostly because he was sort of right — in a vague, roundabout way.

Mike had been enthusiastic about it too, but that was before he had to suffer through his best friend’s endless boasts. His brown eyes roll damn near to the back of his skull as he huffs, angled jaw clenching from gritted teeth.

“Well, when you spend eight hours coming up with, like, a thousand different theories, one of them is gonna be right,” he’d finally groused.

Dustin only smiled at the lankier boy, totally unfazed by his grumbling. “It’s not my fault you have exactly zero work ethic. You’re just mad you lost.”

“Yeah, because staying up all night writing in your diary makes you a real winner.”

“For the last time, Mike, it’s not a diary!”

Lucas was too far away to join in on the bickering. The boy had been distant for a while now, actually. Eddie joked that he must’ve been upset about missing basketball practice with Carver and the rest of his goons, but Lucas hadn’t laughed as loud as he’d hoped. He only chuckled under his breath, shook his head, and said it was just girl troubles.

Gareth, meanwhile, is still grumbling about Vecna killing his ranger. Even though Dustin’s bard brought them all back with a resurrection spell in the end, he doesn’t like to lose. Eddie doesn’t blame him, but he’d be lying if he said the angry scrunch contorting his best friend’s features wasn’t hilarious.

Jeff had lost his druid too, but he was a much better sport about the whole thing. He usually is, especially compared to the rest of the club. He’s perhaps the only one who doesn’t treat every loss like the end of the world.

“Well, thank you, Ser Dustin,” Eddie responds in a fanciful sort of accent, bending at the waist in a gracious brow. “But I cannot take all the credit, I’m afraid.”

Dustin’s brows pinch together. “What do you mean?”

“He means that his girlfriend helped him put it together,” Jeff lisps.

“No way!” the boy gapes, totally dumbfounded. “The girl from this morning? In the car? She’s… She’s into Dungeons and Dragons?”

“Not really. No,” Eddie shrugs right before flashing a shit-eating grin. “But she is into me, so…”

The less-than-humble brag makes Gareth groan. His sandy curls fall back as he tilts his head toward the ceiling, ocean eyes rolling and then fluttering closed. “If I have to hear about your stupid girlfriend one more time…” he’d griped after the first few times Eddie managed to bring you up in every conversation — about a million of them ago now.

His annoyance doesn’t lessen Dustin’s confusion. “I don’t get it…”

“Gareth's just mad because he’s in love with Eddie’s girlfriend,” Jeff clarifies once more, feigning pity as he pats the boy on the shoulder.

“All I’m saying is, I would’ve tried a little harder to get her attention if I knew she was into freaks,” Gareth grieves, a little forlorn and distantly heartbroken, but shrugging it off like he isn’t all that affected by it.

You were a bit like Steve The Hair Harrington in that way. A little like Vicki Carmichael or, god forbid, Billy Hargrove. You’ve garnered a sort of popularity that’s made you into a sideshow attraction that everyone wants to ride — literally.

You’re popular in a much, much different way than Steve or Vicki or Billy. It’s left you acutely fetishized in an extreme sort of fashion, an object of desire for many in disgusting, lurid ways.

It seems Gareth didn’t go unscathed with his lust for you either.

Well, too little too fucking late if Eddie had anything to say about it. But he would never, because that’s his best friend, so he decides to scoff and tell him: “Like she’d be into you anyway.”

“Oh, please. I’m a total catch.”

“Is there anyone she isn’t into?” Jeff chuckles, too kind of heart to realize the mercilessness in his words. “Isn’t that, like, her whole thing.”

A sharp pang of anger strikes like lightning in Eddie’s chest. It’s ice-cold and red hot, a burst of adrenaline that feels like fight or flight. His hands curl into fists before he even realizes it. If it had been anyone else and not one of his best friends, he imagines he might’ve swung before he even thought about what he was doing.

Before the words to defend you spill like venom from his mouth, another beats him to the punch.

“Hey,” Lucas scolds from a little ways behind the group, making them all turn to look at him. His brows are furrowed slightly, but the rest of his face is contorted in an unreadable way. His hands are tucked deep into the pockets of the puke-green letterman he wears over his Hellfire tee. “Leave her alone.”

“How do you…” Eddie starts, then squints past the group, gaze zeroing in on the boy. “Since when do you know my girlfriend, Sinclair?”

“She’s friends with Max. And she’s, like, really nice. So maybe we shouldn’t talk about her like that.”

The boy with the wild hair grins something wilder. His gaze is stern but no less playful when he turns back to Jeff. “You heard the kid. Leave my girlfriend alone, Jeffy.”

When the phrase leaves his mouth, for perhaps the billionth time that day, he realizes how often he must say it. My girlfriend, he says. My girlfriend, my girlfriend — because he can’t get enough of how it sounds.

With a grin on his face and his dream girl on his mind, Eddie spins on his heel again to swing open the double doors of the high school’s exit. The chill smacks him in the face almost immediately.

It’s the strange knick of time in early spring where the days are warm, but the nights are so, so cold. This one isn’t any different. A bitter breeze pounds at his chest, ruffles through his curls, and pierces the fabric of his jacket. Eddie’s body mourns the sudden loss of warmth almost immediately.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Dustin continues to whinge, even though the rest of them have more than moved on. “Does— Does everyone know her but me? Mike, do you know who she is?”

The boy perks up at the mention of his name. He tends to get a little reserved unless he’s bickering or talking bout his girlfriend. The kid’s a complete and utter wreck when he’s been away from her for too long. Eddie used to make fun of him for it. Not so much anymore.

Mike runs a hand through his lengthy raven hair, then scratches at the back of his neck. His eyes squint and his nose scrunches. “Uh… not really? I mean, I think she knows El because she knows Hopper, but… I don’t know… No?”

Dustin’s face falls flat at his answer. Or lack thereof.

“Wow. Very enlightening, Mike, as always. Thank you,” he deadpans, then turns back to Eddie. His features go from deadpanned to hopeful: eyes wide, brows raised, lips quirked. “So when are we gonna get to meet her? Do you think she’d do a campaign with us? Holy shit— she could be the fairy! You know, of the Firethorns! I mean, you did just say the campaign was feeling a little empty—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Take it down a few notches, alright, Dusty Bun?” Eddie chuckles as he slumps a heavy arm around the boy’s shoulders.

“Don’t call me that. We talked about this; that name is reserved for Suzie and Suzie only—”

“Didn’t you guys break up?” Mike wonders with a sort of blandness to his tone that only he could pull off.

“Shut up, Mike,” Dustin bites in response.

It was still a bit of a sore subject for the boy who’d just lost the so-called love of his life.

Suzie was a girl he met at summer camp about a year ago. Things were going pretty well until they weren’t. Something about her family being uber-religious and not approving of Dustin’s more agonistic disposition.

She broke up with him over Cerebro and hasn’t been on the channel since. It was cold. Ice cold.

Dustin still hikes up to Weathertop every now and then with nothing but a packed lunch and the hope that she’ll answer. She hasn’t yet.

And Eddie can make a mockery of just about anything — it’s practically a superpower at this point — but he knows when to leave well enough alone. Even the most innocent question can send the boy into a spiral of despair. Even now, he gets so suddenly weighed down by the burden of his sadness; lips turning downward and the insides of his brows curling slightly.

Eddie smiles a sad sort of smile down at the boy, but he’s too busy moping to see it. He pulls him closer with one leather-clad arm and uses the other to pat the boy on the chest. Their feet stumble less than gracefully over one another.

“Yeah, you’re never gonna meet her…” Eddie says in a mournful sigh.

Dustin blinks up at him, confused and even more hurt than before. “What? Why not?”

“Because she’d obviously like you more than me,” he scoffs like it’s obvious. “And I can’t have anyone taking my girl, Henderson.”

That confuses him even more. He was more prepared for one of Eddie’s stupid quips than something short of a compliment. It takes him by surprise at first, leaves him gaping for a moment, before rolling his eyes. “Shut up…”

“I’m serious!” Eddie chuckles, all loud and boisterous. The sound echoes through the vacant lot, made somehow emptier by the cold.

He stops walking suddenly and makes Dustin stop walking too. He takes the boy a tad bit roughly by the shoulders and looks down at him like it’s the first time he’s seeing him.

“I mean, look at you! What’s not to like, huh? You got their hair, the smarts, the personality—”

“And Eddie’s only got one of those things, so you definitely win,” Gareth quips from a few feet behind them.

“Exactly! Suzie was an idiot to let you go, Henderson.”

Dustin winces when Eddie jabs him in the chest. His saddened gaze flits to the pavement for a moment, then back up again. His eyes are brighter now, but still a bit melancholy — sort of like the streetlamp that flickers across the way. A light that’s going out but grasping for reasons to stay burning.

“You think so?”

“I know so, Dusty Bun,” Eddie grins — smiling wider when the kid’s beam falls flat again. He wraps his arm around Dustin’s punier frame. It’s supposed to be a hug, but it looks more like a headlock. “Never change, Dustin Henderson. Never change…”

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Eddie hasn’t been to a sleepover since he was ten.

Fifth grade. Franklin Kowalski’s place in the suburbs. Trampoline in the front yard, pool in the back, and an assortment of soft drinks in a fridge in the garage. Maybe he remembers it so vividly because it's perhaps one of the more traumatizing experiences a prepubescent boy growing out a buzzcut could go through.

He knew he didn’t belong there — not in the good part of town with a bunch of boys in brand-new tennis shoes. Eddie Munson was trailer park trash, through and through. He wasn’t used to new clothes or two-story houses or underground pools. But he didn’t care where he came from. And neither did Franklin. Not at first, anyway.

The other kids were nice enough to him. They offered him their swim goggles when Eddie didn’t have his own and made sure he wasn’t left out of any of their conversations. It was all in a tongue-in-cheek sort of way, though. Their kindness was manufactured, a mask for pre-teen boy cruelty.

See, they only gave him their goggles so they could laugh when they got tangled in his curls. They only included him in conversation so he could be the punch line to each of their jokes.

All of it went over Eddie’s head. He was too innocent to realize he wasn’t being treated nicely, he was being taunted. He laughed along with each of their inside jokes because he wanted so desperately to be included, having no idea it was himself he was laughing at.

It took him until two o’clock the next morning to understand. He woke up all alone in the living room and found that everyone else had migrated upstairs without him. They were still awake, still laughing — and Eddie was forgotten in the dark.

He nearly cried when he called Wayne. He wasn’t sure if his tears were from anger or from sadness, but they stung all the same.

He punched the numbers on the keypad with a clenched jaw to keep from sobbing out loud. His gaze was still blurry with unshed tears. It made it dreadfully hard to see, and what little light spilled from the television — which had turned to static after midnight — didn’t help either.

“It’s three A.M., Eds. You sick?” his uncle gruffed into the landline.

“A little,” Eddie half-lied. He twirled the curly wire around his fingertip until it turned purple. He prayed he didn’t sound as sad as he felt. “Everyone else is asleep… ‘M scared I’m gonna puke everywhere.”

Wayne was there barely fifteen minutes later. He drove his rusted pick-up to the suburbs, found his nephew waiting on the curb, and didn’t ask questions on the drive back to Forest Hills.

Eddie hasn’t been to a sleepover since.

He’s got a feeling this one will be different, though. Because pre-teen boys are a hell of a different kind and you’re… you.

He’s pretty sure you couldn’t be mean to him even if you wanted to be. You’re nice, far nicer than he deserves. You’re lovely and sweet and decent — every synonym of the damn word in a thousand different languages. It still floors him that it would ever occur to you to be kind to him.

Eddie doesn’t feel all that worthy of your sunshine. He happily basks in your golden rays anyway. Maybe it’s because he’s selfish. Or maybe it’s because he’s so damn pale — in both the literal and figurative sense.

Eddie packs his overnight bag without a hint of methodology.

He isn’t totally sure of what to bring as he rifles through his disorganized drawers, so he ends up packing bits of everything.

He does the sniff test for each of his crumpled-up t-shirts. The one’s that smell the freshest get stuffed to the bottom of his bag. He can’t be sure of how many he’s shoved down there now — three or four, maybe five. It makes it harder for his pants to fit, two of the pajama variety and two of denim.

He grabs multiples of everything, just to be on the safe side. It takes only minutes for his backpack to fill up. He nearly breaks the zipper trying to fasten it, and still, he worries he hasn’t brought enough.

The bag sits upright on his mattress as Eddie bends down to grab the box of condoms that’s been idling under his bed for a year. The cardboard is coated with a fine layer of dust and time. He holds it between his ringed fingers, debating whether or not to finally break the seal and bring a few — just to be on the safe side. That’s when Wayne walks in.

The man isn’t looking at him. He’s too busy wiping his oil-stained palms on an already-stained rag, but his presence is sudden enough to freak Eddie out. The boy jumps like he’s been caught red-handed, scrabbles for a hiding place almost immediately, making the box sputter out of his grip. The thing falls to the ground with a dramatic thud.

He kicks it back under his bed again.

Wayne’s eyes finally flit up to his nephew’s at all the commotion. His bushy grey brows furrow when he finds him standing upright, hands behind his back, totally not suspicious at all. Raising a teenage boy has taught the man not to comment on what doesn’t concern him, so he keeps on swiping his fingers between the fabric of the grimy rag.

“I finished looking at your van,” he says, accent deep and husky and not of Indiana origin. “Turns out that noise you were hearin’ was a damn rock in the break line.”

Eddie scoffs, then eyes a stick of deodorant sitting on his dresser. “Wow,” he marvels as he swipes the thing from its place. He stuffs it into the side pocket of his bag. “A measly pebble coulda killed me, huh?”

“Should be good to go now, though.”

“Sweet,” the boy nods.

Eddie squints as his eyes flit around his room, head darting in either direction to make sure he’s got everything. Wayne watches him with an identical squint. “Where you runnin’ off to now? You just got home, what, fifteen minutes ago?”

“Uh… I’m gonna go see a friend,” Eddie answers, voice trembling and slightly far away. He unzips his bag again to make sure it’s sufficiently filled. He does a little mental checklist: shirts, pants, PJs, shoes— how the hell is he supposed to fit shoes in here?

You’ve only got one pair of shoes, Munson, he reminds himself. Where the hell do you think you’re going, anyway? A nature walk?

“Oh, right,” his uncle nods. A smile plays on the edges of his lips, but it weirdly still looks like he’s frowning. “The friend.”

“Yeah— Well, she’s my… She’s my girlfriend, so…”

The admission makes Eddie blush in a way he isn’t typically used to. He can’t count the number of times he must say it in a day, but something about saying it in front of Wayne feels different — real.

He turns his glowing cheeks down to his bag and makes difficult work of zipping it back up again.

Wayne doesn’t bother to hide his excitement. The bright emotion is almost unfamiliar. “Well, shit,” the man’s chuckle sounds from the depths of his chest. “Look at you, Eds. My nephew’s finally got his first girlfriend.”

The boy rolls his chocolate eyes. He jerks under the pressure of the shoulder clap Wayne gives him. It’s equal parts annoying and embarrassing — to be talked to like a child in this way. Maybe because most children have long had their first girlfriends by now, and it took Eddie all of twenty agonizing years.

“We were gonna hang out at her place since I passed my English test and everything...”

The excitement washes from Wayne’s tired eyes. They widen, as though in shock, and reveal more of the glassy whites of them. He just blinks at him for a moment, like his words are still processing. “You… You passed?”

“Yep. Got a B,” Eddie nods, a tad bit sheepishly. He finds it hard to meet his uncle’s mystified gaze. “Well, a B-minus, but… Turns out, I might actually graduate this year.”

Wayne seems to experience every emotion at once. He’s surprised, of course — it makes sense. Eddie spent two years failing the damn thing, after all. Then he’s proud, overjoyed that there’s a chance his nephew might finally grow up. He’s distantly saddened by the exact same thought.

The man swallows thickly, as though to down each emotion. He nods and tries his best to smile. “Damn. Good job, kid. I’m… I’m prouda you.”

Eddie isn’t sure whether to take the praise or cower from it. At a loss, he opts to deflect entirely.

“Yeah, well, she— the friend helped me study and everything, so… I feel like we should probably be thanking her, you know?” he half-jokes as he swings the pack over his shoulder. His winces under the weight of it. “I probably wouldn’t have passed if she didn’t force me to read that stupid book. I mean, it’s 1986; who cares about the roaring twenties and blinking green lights—”

“Hm…” his uncle grunts. It isn’t an acknowledging grunt, though. It’s more of a bemused sort of grunt. And he’s got this quizzical twist to his features that makes Eddie confused too.

“…What is it?”

Wayne only shrugs, trying to act like it was nothing, but can’t help but to ask: “You’re real serious about this girl, aren’t ya?”

Eddie, feeling a bit weighed down by such a heavy question, shifts on his feet.

“Uh… A little bit, I guess. Yeah,” he stammers in the place of an honest answer. If he were being totally truthful, he would’ve said something like, “As serious as a goddamn heart attack.” But that might’ve actually given Uncle Wayne one, so he doesn’t answer with all that.

The man seems to hear all the words Eddie doesn’t say, though. He always does. Eddie figures that’s what happens when you raise a kid for fifteen years — you get attuned to their every thought like a superpower or something.

It doesn’t make it any less annoying, though. Eddie’s never been able to keep a single damn secret from Wayne because he’s a total mind reader. It’s entirely possible Wayne knew Eddie was in love before he did.

“Just be careful, alright?” the man advises. He looks genuinely concerned, eyes glinting and brows pinched, like you’re a treacherous road or poison ivy.

The misplaced cautiousness makes Eddie breathe out a soft laugh. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“C’mon, Eds. Don’t play dumb,” Wayne tells him with a gruff chuckle — not totally unkind, just a Munson sort of curt. “You know what I’m talkin’ about. I didn’t even know her real name until you started bringing her around, 'cause all the kids at the shop call her the—”

“Don’t,” Eddie interjects sharply.

The bitterness in his tone is foreign. It contains the sort of venom he’s more like to spit at Jason Carver or Mike Wheeler if he’s being particularly dickish. Never at Wayne.

But that dormant urge to defend you rises like a sleeping dragon that just got poked in the belly. The words rise like bile in his throat and spew out before he can think to stop them.

Uncle Wayne is a weathered man. He’s seen a lot of the world, too much of it, but nothing’s ever quite taken him aback like this. He’s never seen his nephew’s chocolate button eyes hardened into something so cold.

Eddie gets all hyperaware of the heart on his sleeve and starts to crack under the pressure of it. He deflates, stern features crumbling into something softer.

“It’s different, okay?” he assures with his chin brought down to his chest — brows raised and wide eyes twinkling. It’s the same thing you’d said to Hopper not too long ago. Eddie hopes you met the words as wholeheartedly as he does now.

“And even if I explained all the reasons why it’s different, you still wouldn’t get it.”

His melodramatic tone makes Wayne scoff. “What? ‘Cause you don’t think I’ve ever been a kid in love before?”

“No,” Eddie shrugs playfully. “‘Cause you’re old.”

The foreign tension ebbs all at once with a pair of laughs. One is gruff, a couple of sharp exhales more than anything else. The other is a lighter, far more boyish giggle.

“I’m just trying to look out for you, alright?” Wayne tells him once the laughter fades.

“Yeah, I know. You always do,” Eddie lilts with a disposition that might make it seem like he’s displeased by his uncle’s constant pestering. In reality, he knows it’s saved him from a world of shit.

Like that time he wanted to get tacos from a new food truck that gave the whole town food poisoning. Or when he’d wanted to ask Tina Burton, the most popular girl in school, on a date his sophomore year.

It was Wayne that saved him the embarrassment from either. It’s like he can smell bullshit or something.

“But this is, like, the first good thing that’s happened to me since Ride the Lightning came out… So, I’d kinda like to enjoy this whole thing while it lasts,” Eddie winces like it’s a joke, but he means it more than anything.

Wayne nods understandingly. “Will do, kid. But first girlfriends are always hard, okay? Remember that. Try not to let it hurt you too much, Eds.”

His uncle claps him once, then twice, on his shoulder before swiping away the grime he’d accidentally spotted there. Eddie lets him, too far away to shrug him off. He doesn’t even move when Wayne walks out of his room.

He knows his uncle means well, but something about his cynical words makes his chest burn. It’s like he’s betting on his relationship with you not working out or something.

And Eddie knows he isn’t wrong. First girlfriends are hard. He’s heard enough shit from his friends to know that. Hell, Mike and Dustin have spent all year complaining about how complicated relationships are.

But it’s different.

Because they’re just a couple of kids and their girlfriends aren’t you.

Whatever form you come in, lover or executioner, Eddie’s more than ready to receive you.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

You’ve never cooked for anyone other than yourself. And maybe Bowie.

That’s not to say you were a stranger to dining in company. Binging on takeout with Robin and Steve was routine. You’re pretty sure Benny at the diner has made more dinners for the three of you than you’ve ever made for yourselves — combined.

But it was different, to make something for someone with your own hands. It took a relative amount of care, an acute sort of attentiveness that only felt deserved for someone really special.

And Eddie was really special and then some.

There isn’t a word that encapsulates all the special he is. It makes you feel a bit guilty sometimes. You wish you were smarter so you could think of a big enough word to describe how much he means to you. But since you aren’t, you stick to making him homemade spaghetti and hope you can pour enough love into it that he feels all of yours.

Eddie arrives at your apartment before you’re ready for him.

You’d wanted to do more with your appearance by the time he came around — with your hair and your makeup and your clothes. Not because you ever had to, but because you thought Eddie deserved a girl who took extra care of herself in that way.

You got a shower in before you started cooking, but that was it. Your hair is unstyled and air-drying; your face bare and glistening in all its naked glory.

Clad in nothing but a hilariously oversized t-shirt and a pair of fluffy socks, you look more ready for bed than date night.

The knock at your door sends you into a momentary whirlwind. You scramble like someone’s seconds away from catching you naked — like there are four different fires in every direction and you don’t know which one to put out first. The panic is elaborate and fleeting, a bucket of ice-cold water on bare skin.

You figure that’s another part of caring about someone. You make them spaghetti because you love them and get nervous when things aren’t perfect. Love is all things stressful and homemade.

Eddie knocks on your door with several rhythmic raps. They’re evenly timed and spaced out. You recognize the bass line to ‘Crazy Train’ almost immediately. Da-da… Da-da, da-da, da-da. He must’ve been listening to it on the way over.

“Uh, come in!” you waver after an awkward beat. You’re yelling a little because you’re still standing at the stove, stirring the pot of noodles.

The door clicks once when it opens, then again when it shuts. The wall that separates the kitchen conceals your view of him, but you can hear Eddie’s shuffling in the living room from where you are because he’s never done anything quietly in his life.

Eddie toes off his sneakers before he heads into your apartment. You never asked him to do it, so it always confused you as to why. He’d told you, when you asked, that he knows he’s not the cleanest and that he cares too much about your space to make a mess of it.

He tells you he can’t take care of you in the way he would like — that if he had it his way, you’d never have to work at Enzo’s again; that he wishes he was rich enough so you never had to wait on snobby stay-at-home moms or misogynistic businessmen. But since he isn’t a rockstar yet and The Hideout pays their busboy’s fuck all, Eddie figures the least he can do is not leave shoe prints on your carpet.

It’s boyish and strangely profound and so, so sweet.

He drops his backpack and leaves his sneakers by the doormat like he always does. They fit neatly between the wall and the roughly textured rectangle that reads ‘glad you’re here’ on the front of it. One is upright, the other falls to its side.

Bowie blinks at him from where she idles on her perch, green eyes wide and pupils set in narrow slits. “Hey, pretty girl,” Eddie greets in a quiet coo, scooping her up in his arms. Despite her round belly, the calico weighs no more than a feather.

She meows once after being so suddenly plucked from her flower petal spot but settles into him instantly. He scratches at her chin to make her purr and revels in the soft buzzing sound she makes. Eddie waltzes into the kitchen with her, cradling her against his chest like a newborn baby.

You look over your shoulder and smile at the sight of them — at your two favorite beings on the planet, so obviously taken with one another. Bowie lolls in Eddie’s arm like he’s made of clouds and cotton candy. Her blinks are slow and lazy, her purrs audible to even you. She’s only this affectionate for him. You can’t even blame her.

“Smells good in here,” the boy compliments trying his best not to blush at the wide smile you give him. He’s still not used to being looked at so tenderly.

Failing to feel deserving of it all, he averts his chocolate gaze and flushed cheeks to the counter, where he plops Bowie down beside her half-empty food bowl.

You could only get her to eat so much of it before she got annoyed with you. Now she laps happily at the chunk of cat food like it’s the first time she’s ever tasted its goodness.

“Thanks,” you respond with a slight tremble to the edge of your voice. You turn back to the pot of spaghetti you’ve been stirring for close to ten minutes, eyeing the mixture of noodles and sauce and beef with intent because you need it all to be perfect. “I probably should’ve asked what you liked before you left this morning, but I only know how to make spaghetti, so… I made spaghetti.”

You look back at him, flashing the boy a nervous tight-lipped smile. It makes him grin, too, as he makes the terribly short trek over to you.

“Well, I actually love spaghetti,” he confesses, and it isn’t totally a lie. He just stopped caring for it around the millionth time Wayne made it because it’s one of the only things he knows how to cook too.

Eddie lingers at your side, hip pressing into the counter, radiating warmth like a sun stuck in human form. You can’t tell if he’s toasty in his leather jacket or if you’re just cozy in the honey-coated tenderness you have for him. You don’t even realize you’re smiling at him when he scrunches his nose at you.

“You should be careful, sweetheart. I’m kinda starting to think we’re soulmates.”

“That’s crazy,” you marvel, wide-eyed. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“Wow… We really were made for each other, huh?” he huffs with a similar sarcasm.

You try to keep the joke going, but it’s hard not to smile when you feel his hands creep around your sides. His fingers are soft on your waist, featherlight and a little unsure as he slithers along your back. The affection feels foreign on your skin. You bite back a shiver.

“Looks like way,” you affirm with a nod, tilting your head back so you can meet him halfway when he leans down to peck you.

It’s a soft and swift little thing, a brief brush of the lips that doesn’t mean anything but also the entire world. He kisses you just to kiss you — because he likes the feel of you or because it’s the sort of thing he can do now as your boyfriend. Either way, you revel in the unfamiliarity.

“Did the, uh… Did the test go okay?” you ask once he parts from you. You try not to sound like you’ve been agonizing over it all day and more like the thought had only just crossed your mind.

Eddie bites back a smile as he turns to walk to the opposite side of the counter. He makes sure any traces of the smirk have washed away when he hops onto the edge of it. The forlorn look he gives you is manufactured, all pinched browed and gloomy eyed.

“Um, no…” he fibs. “I, uh— I failed it again.”

You eye him from over your shoulder and notice how he shifts on his weight, looking down at the tile rather than up at you. It doesn’t cross your mind once that he might be joking. You just hope the flash of disappointment on your features was too quick for him to catch.

“That’s okay,” you assure and cover your chagrin with a smile. You shake your head and shrug. “We just try again, right? Not the end of the world.”

A grin tugs slow at Eddie’s lips. It’s bemused slightly and still sort of sad. He can’t believe how supportive you are of him even after he’s just told you outright that he’s failed — still loving even when he’s not good enough.

He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a packet of stapled-together papers. It’s perhaps the first piece of schoolwork given to him that wasn’t immediately thrown away. He’d folded it twice in half, then tucked it safely away with the intent to show you later. He unfolds it again to marvel at it once more.

The letter grade is written in red and circled twice. Ms. O’Donnell’s fancy cursive is scribbled just beside it — “Finally! Good job, Eddie! I’m very proud of you!” Even though the boy has never been particularly fond of the woman, her compliment makes his chest swell.

“Oh, shit…” he murmurs under his breath, but loud enough for you to hear.

“Hm?” you hum back in response. You don’t look at him, though, more focused on not burning yourself as you pull a tray of golden brown garlic bread out of the oven.

“I read it wrong…” he answers, feigning surprise. “This isn’t an F. It’s a B.”

The pan clatters to the stove when you spin around the face him. Your eyes are wide and your brows are raised, each of your features agape with shock. You’re not entirely sure how he could’ve misread it, but you’re prepared to celebrate with him anyway.

Eddie flashes you a pink, lopsided smile as he flips the creased paper around. He puts the grade on display for you with a knowing, mischievous glint in his cinnamon eyes. He’s too pretty and you’re too proud of him — you can’t even care that he was tricking you.

“Oh, my god, Eddie!” you shout with a bubbly laugh, all but launching yourself at him. You have to stand on the tips of your toes to reach where he sits on the counter. The bottom of your stomach digs into the granite as your arms wrap around his neck.

You don’t realize until you’ve locked him in this embrace that you’ve still got your oven mitt on.

Eddie bends awkwardly to reciprocate the hug, meeting you halfway so you’re not doing all the work.

One hand keeps hold of his midterm, but the palm of his free one spreads wide and warm along your back. The tops of your chests collide, soft and snug. They press together in such a way that it confuses him how he could’ve gone so long without feeling you like this — even in the most innocent way.

His chin settles along your clothed collarbone. With his nose digging into the cotton of your t-shirt, he inhales to find your warm floral scent. Eddies sighs and relaxes against you without thinking. He doesn’t know if anyone’s ever hugged him like this before.

“I’m so proud of you!” you praise, chin bopping on his shoulder. “I knew you could do it.”

Eddie chuckles softly at the severity of your hug, so full of intent — louder when you peck him on his cheek and then the rest of his face when you realize you can’t just kiss him once. His stubble is rough against the plush of your lips as you press them to his jaw and chin and nose and mouth.

He tries to kiss you back, but he’s smiling too wide.

He’s almost certain no one’s ever gotten this much loving over a B-minus.

“It’s ‘cause of you,” Eddie insists.

“No, it’s because you’re smart.”

“Mm, I don’t think that’s it,” he retorts with the shake of his head, too damn stubborn to take a compliment.

His chin pulls closer to his neck when he parts from you. Your noses are barely inches apart, lips so close he can taste them. He could kiss you if he wanted, but he doesn’t want to stop looking at you.

“I’m pretty sure I only passed because I was thinking about you the whole time...”

His words trail off. He’s got a crooked smirk on his lips like he’s only teasing, but brings his ear to his shoulder and gazes at you that way — so full of love and mischief. You think he might actually be sincere.

“Eddie Munson…” you scold at his suggestive tone.

A smile dances on the corners of your lips as you pull back from him completely. You finally slip the mitten off your hand as you return to the stove, clicking the knob on the back panel until it turns off again.

“I just hope you’ve been thinking about that reward,” the boy lilts as he slips off the counter. He grins and walks until he’s leaning on the refrigerator beside you. He’s no more than a couple of feet away, but he somehow feels much closer than that. “If I’m not mistaken, I believe we agreed that I’d get something if I passed…”

Eddie’s only teasing. He doesn’t actually want anything. Spending time with you now is enough. Making you blush was just a bonus.

He’d be lying if he said it didn’t cross his mind, though, far more times than he’d like to admit.

And truth be told, you had thought about it, too. But that makes it sound too simple. It plagued you, really. First, it was the “oh god, what if he doesn’t pass,” and then the “what the hell am I supposed to do when he does?”

A passing grade isn’t usually that big of a deal. You’ve certainly never received anything from one. But passing a test after failing it the first two times and having to suffer two more agonizing years of school because of it certainly deserved to be celebrated.

Eddie was strange, though. He wasn’t materialistic or overtly enthusiastic about anything other than music and D&D. Maybe if you had more money, you could’ve gotten him a cassette or a new Dungeon Master’s manual. But thanks to Enzo’s salary, you’re lucky if you’re able to pay bills on time. And it sucks because Eddie deserves nice things, and not just for passing some stupid test.

You hate that you don’t have anything other than spaghetti and adoration to give him.

It’s not fair to either of you.

You’d lamented to Steve about all this over gummy bears and buttered popcorn as Slumber Party Massacre played on the tiny television above the counter. The film was ripe with blood and random nudity, but you hadn’t fully paid attention to a single scene. You don’t think Steve had either because he was too busy trying to fuse two different halves of gummy bears together.

“Okay, you just passed a test you failed two times in a row,” you tell the boy, painting him a picture of your dilemma. “Your girlfriend wants to do something nice for you, but she’s boring and poor. What would you want?”

“A blowjob,” Steve answers without missing a beat. His brows scrunch together like the answer was far easier than you made it out to be. He shrugs and squishes the strawberry head of one gummy bear onto the blue raspberry bottom of another. “Obviously.”

You didn’t think the answer was so obvious. Especially not when you’re trying to take things slow. It wasn’t an easy feat either — not with Eddie at your place, looking at you with that look. His features drip with honey as rose petal spill from his mouth. It’s like he’s trying to tease you.

He’s got no idea he’s quite literally dealing with the master of teasing.

“We’ll see how tonight goes,” you tell him, flashing him an arched brow and a knowing smirk as you drag two of your fancy, ten-dollar porcelain plates from the cabinet. “Only if you’re good for me, yeah?”

Eddie quite literally forgets how to speak.

Like, if you’d asked him a question, the only thing that would spill out would be unintelligible murmurs of made-up words.

His brain turns to mush with the look you give him — a two can play at this game kind of smirk that makes his mind melt. And your words are so effortless, so smooth, like you know just what to say and exactly how to say it to work him like a wind-up toy.

He’s in way over his head. The realization makes his breath hitch.

All he can do is nod like an idiot and let you fix him a plate of your “finest batch of spaghetti.” That’s what you call it, and he figures you must be right because you lay an entire three-course meal out in front of him. Well, it isn’t quite that extensive, but it feels that way.

Plates of pasta, a bowl of salad, and stacks of garlic bread decorate your small square dining table. Eddie almost feels like he’s at Enzo’s, even though there’s never been a world where he’s been able to afford Enzo’s.

You wine and dine him like the finest of them. Even though it’s nothing more than homemade spaghetti and apple juice in wine glasses, it makes him feel special — the kind of special people spend hundreds of dollars to feel. But he gets you for free and fuck, he doesn’t deserve any of it.

He got so damn lucky with you.

He’s done trying to figure out why. He just wants to be more grateful for it.

Once he’s pleasantly full on a home-cooked meal, you usher him to the bathroom. There’s a bag full of stuff waiting there for him — toothbrush, toothpaste, body wash — all the essential shit that he’d forgotten all about. It makes his chest ache.

It’s less so that you knew he’d forget and more so that you thought about him at all.

Eddie imagines you getting off work, still in your Enzo’s-appropriate skirt and blouse uniform, scanning the aisles of Bradley’s Big Buy for things you think Eddie might need.

It’s mundane, but so beautiful still — to be remembered in the most minuscule of ways.

“—I didn’t know what to get you, and I couldn’t afford a lot, so I just got you that 3-in-1 stuff,” you ramble as you pull the dark green bottle out of the brown paper bag on the counter. You wave it mindlessly in your hand. “I don’t know, it was affordable, and you seem like the kind of guy who might use this sort of stuff, so—”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Eddie chuckles, trying to act like he doesn’t have an off-brand bottle of the stuff sitting in his shower back at the trailer.

“I don’t know,” you answer with a giggle of your own. You shrug and sit the thing back down. “You don’t have to use it if you don’t want. I just wanted you to have some stuff here so it could, you know, feel more like home…”

Your words strike something profound in Eddie’s chest, a lightning strike or a punch to the stomach. In that moment, he comes to the realization that home isn’t a place. It’s not four walls or the little trinkets that fill it. The people that make you feel all warm and cozy inside, the people that make you feel like you have a place in the world — that’s home.

It’s Wayne and it’s Hellfire and it’s you.

So it’s easy for Eddie to feel at home in your little apartment, and not just because you bought a bunch of stuff to make it that way.

He’s warmed by the hot shower and the thought that you’re waiting for him in your bedroom down the hall. The idea that he gets this night and so many others you with makes him feel all giddy — like he’s ten years old again and no sleepover has ever traumatized him.

Eddie uses everything you bought, still a little dizzied that it’s for him, but opts to use your vanilla body wash. It’s sweet smelling, with hints of deep musk and high lavender.

The scent of it on his own skin makes him feel like you’re on him and all over him. He has to flip the hot water to freezing before he steps out of the shower. Because, sure, he’s been less than shy about how much he likes you, but walking into your room with a hard-on is a bit more forward than he’s used to.

Eddie finds you waiting for him in your bed. You’re idling at the very center of it, knees up to your chest and back against the headboard, like you’ve been waiting for his return to get truly comfortable there.

You smile when you see him again. It’s that same grin you always look at him with, as though every time you see him is the first time.

He brings an air of cleanliness in with him. He's dressed in fresh pajamas, curls damp and still drying. Steam radiates off his skin along with the scent of freshly baked cookies and flower petals. It’s familiar to you because it’s yours, but it’s different on Eddie in a way you can’t describe.

“You smell good,” you compliment as he maneuvers through the velvet darkness of your bedroom. The black night is evaded only by your dim yellow lamp and the streams of orange that filter through your curtains from the streetlamps outside.

Eddie scoffs as he climbs onto your queen-sized bed. “Did I smell bad before?”

“No. You just smell sweet now. Like a milkshake.”

You shift to make room for him, pulling back your green gingham comforter so he can slip in beside you. Even though you’ve given him ample room to sit down, there isn’t any hint of distance between you. You keep yourself intently pressed to his side despite the several inches of space next to you.

Eddie hopes you never realize there’s a whole world of other places you could be than right next to him. He doesn’t ever want to see a day where you’re separated by more than an inch or two.

“A milkshake, huh?” he echos as he leans back against the slatted headboard and all your pillows. You twist until you’re practically on your side — hip digging into the mattress, shoulder propped along the cushions, chest pressed against his arm.

“Yeah. Like whipped cream or… vanilla cake…” you trail off, quickly losing interest in describing the scent of him when you’re staring the pretty boy in the face.

One half of him is bathed in shades of golden orange, the other half coated in a deep, deep navy. Eddie’s eyes are somehow darker than any night sky. They swim with their own galaxies and stars that twinkle back at you.

He looks at you and all words lose meaning.

“Yeah, I’m totally stealing your soap before I leave,” he jokes.

You shake your head at him, but smile anyway. “Thanks for letting me know, Eddie Spaghetti.”

Just like all the times before, neither of you realize you’re kissing until you already are. The gravitational pull that brings the two of you together is effortless and natural. You’re like the moon and Eddie’s like the tide — you drag him to you without trying and he bends to your every whim.

Kissing him is easy. It’s like breathing. You don’t ever have to think about it, you just do it.

You press your lips against the rosy plush of his, and it’s like taking a deep breath of fresh air. It’s an atmosphere kissed by the sun and the trees and the morning dew. It fills your lungs with a new life, makes it impossible to quit kissing him.

But when his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, when his mouth pries yours open to slip the pink muscle inside — that feels like getting the breath knocked out of you. The rough pattern of his tongue slides against your own, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

Your lungs stop working, your chest aches, and there’s nothing you can do about it but let the moment pass.

Eddie keeps kissing you soft, though, coaxing fresh air back into your burning lungs. He helps you breathe normally again.

You move together like entwining summer breezes. Your thigh swipes against his lap and his hands find your hips to help guide you the rest of the way over. He’s halfway lying down now and you’re looming like an unconquerable mountain above him. Your back arches like a cat’s and your palms cradle his jaw while your tongue makes uncharted territory of his mouth.

The warmth lingering between your thighs presses into his lower stomach. It makes his grip on you tighten, hands pulling your hips further against him until he hears you moan.

The pressure of your clothed pussy against the pudge of his stomach brings you a distant pleasure. What really does you in is the thought of what little separates you — just the fabric of your cotton underwear and Eddie’s faded grey Tatcher Tire t-shirt.

But it’s hard to be indulgent when you’re so stuck in your head. Your mouth moves with Eddie’s on autopilot while your mind travels elsewhere. Because this isn’t supposed to be about you — it’s supposed to be about Eddie. You want to make him feel good for a change, but you have no idea how to go about it.

The foreignness is strange. It leaves you fumbling like you’ve never done any of this before.

In a way, you haven’t. Eddie is different from any guy you’ve ever been with. Not just because he cares about you, but because you’re practically the only girl he’s ever cared about in this way.

He’s a blank slate and you’re scribbled all over.

You don’t want to taint the pristine image he’s painted of you.

“Hey, Eds,” you murmur. The words are halfway spoken against his mouth because you don’t pull away in time to say them clearly.

Your tongue darts out to feel how numb your spit-slicked lips have gotten after being kissed so ardently. You know they’re probably swollen and more vibrant in their color now. Eddie’s a lot of the same, mouth rosy and obviously kissed.

“Hm?” the boy hums back.

“Do you wanna… Do you wanna do something else?” you ask him, all slow because you don’t want to say the wrong thing. His brows furrow beneath the thin curtain of his curly bangs. The silent question eggs you on. “Would it be okay if I gave you a blowjob?”

Eddie’s eyes widen for a moment. He swears he goes blind because he doesn’t typically see white when he blinks. The question isn’t the weirdest for a guy in this predicament — with a pretty girl on his lap with his spit staining her mouth. It just catches him a little off guard.

“Would it be…” he tries to echo but trails off with a breathy laugh. You say it like it wouldn’t be perfect — to have you between his legs with your warm mouth on his cock, looking effortlessly beautiful while you swallow him whole.

“Yeah… Yeah, I think that… I’d be a total idiot to say no,” he manages to stammer out, though words have long lost meaning by now.

The sight of his glazed-over eyes, warmed cheeks, and pink mouth makes you smile. He always looks at you like you’re the most amazing thing he’s ever seen — like you're the infiniteness of space or a deep, deep ocean — something profound he desperately wants to discover.

“I feel like you deserve it, right?” you squint down at him, partially teasing. “For a job well done, you know?”

Eddie nods until he finds the words to respond. “Yeah… Right. Totally.”

“Do you wanna lie down? Or would you rather me get on my knees?” you ask him.

Eddie swears he’s dreaming. He isn’t quite sure how you manage to say something so sinful with such sincerity.

“It might be comfortable to stay like this, but most guys like the visual of girls on their knees better so…”

There is no seductive lilt to your voice, no mischievous teasing to rile him up. It’s just a question of how he wants you, and it’s a very dizzying thought. Knowing he can have you however he wants makes his stomach all whirly and his vision start to swim like he just spun around ten times.

Eddie just blinks at you. His chocolate eyes and heavy lids flutter slowly like he’s trying to look at you through a layer of honey.

It takes him a second to answer because he doesn’t know what he wants — he rarely ever does, but now especially. How is a boy who wants you in every way imaginable supposed to pick only one?

“Uh, can you—” he starts before the words get caught in his throat. He grunts out a cough to clear it. “Could you, um… get on your, uh— your knees? Please?”

You smile at how politely he phrases it. You don’t think anyone’s ever said please when asking you for a blowjob before.

Eddie fidgets awkwardly beneath you, and you’re not entirely sure why. You’re the one that just offered yourself up on a platter, totally and unequivocally happy to do whatever he wants. He’s not the one that should be embarrassed.

You nod down at him, still grinning like an idiot. “Sure. You can stay sitting if you want. Whatever you wanna do.”

“Okay…” Eddie mumbles in response.

He watches you with wide, inquisitive eyes as you maneuver off his lap and onto the rug beside your bed. When he swings his legs over the edge of it, you settle intently between them. His cock twitches at the sight of you below him, blinking up at him with sparkling eyes that almost look like they’re begging.

Your palms settle on his clothed thighs as your knees press into the woolen rug beneath you. Your chest warms when you’re finally level with his concealed cock. It makes your heart go silly, the sheer thought of what you’re about to do. You don’t think you’ve ever been this excited to suck dick before.

You wait patiently for him to make the first move — then you realize he doesn’t know how because he’s never had to before. Instead, he’s waiting for you to tell him what to do. With button eyes intently focused on your form and hands anxiously gripping the edge of the bed, he’s entirely prepared to move however you want him to.

“Take off your shirt, Eds,” you guide gently.

He listens to you without thinking twice. His fidgeting fingers reach for the fraying hem of his shirt to yank it up and over his head. He has to tug harder when the neck gets caught around his chin.

It isn’t the first time he’s been shirtless in front of you. Between changing and heated kisses, he’s had ample opportunity to get over his lingering insecurities.

For a while there, he found himself comparing his body to all your other more prominent escapades — the Billy Hargroves and the Steve Harringtons. The overtly masculine types with bodies that scream, ‘I peaked in high school.’

Eddie doesn’t look like them. He isn’t as toned or as thin. He’s got pudge on his belly and sparse hair on his sternum in the place of defined abs and pecks covered in layers of chest hair. He doesn’t look at all like those basketball douchebags that could easily model for whatever magazine basketball douchebags read — if they even know how to, that is.

But you don’t seem to care. You love on him anyway.

Even now, your eyes rake over his bare upper half with a gaze that isn’t anything short of hungry. You reach for his face to pull him down for a ravenous kiss that does little to quell your appetite. Your fingers tangle in the drying strands of his hair in the same way your tongues do.

Eddie’s patient hands curl around the insides of your elbow as he keeps his lips obediently parted for you. He sighs into each of your eager kisses, more than content to let you swallow him whole.

You move down to his jaw and then to his neck. You nose his curls out of the way to sprinkle wet pecks to the warm skin there. You somehow manage to take your time and move with haste all at once — loving on all the places that need loving, but not lingering in one place for too long because there are too many of them to count.

The tip of your nose trails down his milky torso in time with your craving kisses. You press a final one between his ribcage, tongue darting out briefly just so you can hear his breath tremble before pulling away entirely.

Eddie’s hands remain on each of your arms as your fingers curl around the hem of his plaid pajama pants. It makes his grip unknowingly tighten.

“Wait,” he blurts with his eyes squeezed shut. You tense almost instantly. “Can you— I mean, can we, just… you know…” he trails off, voice tight like he’s holding his breath. It’s probably because he is.

“What?” you pry with wide eyes and the sick feeling like you’ve done something horribly wrong. “Is this… Is this not okay? We don’t have to, like, do any of this if you don’t want. It was just a suggestion, Eds. We can just—”

“No!” he exclaims, eyes flying open to find your panicked ones. He shakes his wild head so vigorously down at you it makes his curls sway. He both wants to quell your worry and plead for you not to stop. “That’s not it. I— I want to, okay? I do. I really… really do. I just… You’re so far away like this…”

His words drip with a soft sincerity, his honeyed eyes even more so.

Your alarm curls into a gentle smile at his reassurance.

You haven’t had many firsts in a long, long time. Your first kiss was on the playground of Hawkins Middle. Your first handjob was in the locker room of the community pool not too long after. Your first time having sex was on a towel in the grass beside Tina Burton’s pool after her birthday party when everyone else had gone to bed.

All your stereotypical firsts happened lifetimes ago, but you’ve had a billion more with Eddie.

You can say with more confidence than you’ve ever had in your life that this is the first time a guy’s turned down a blowjob because you were too far away on your knees.

“What?” the boy wavers at your silence. Your accompanying smile is somehow more frightening.

“Nothing,” you assure. Your brows pinch together as you smile up at him. “I just… I really don’t think we can be any closer than your dick in my mouth, Eds.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. His cheeks go rosy at your quip. “You know what I mean…”

“Yeah,” you answer softly. “I know what you mean.”

You rise again, this time planting yourself on his thigh. Your knees settle on either side of his leg and dig into the mattress below you, on top of him all over again. The position is a familiar one. The only thing different is a few months’ time and a lack of Fast Times playing in the background.

Eddie tilts his chin to peer up at you. It’s easier this way, he realizes, to be below you and at your mercy rather than above you. Sometimes he thinks you were made to be on top of him like this.

“How about this,” you lilt with a raised brow. “I can just jerk you off—”

“Sounds perfect,” Eddie nods.

A giggle bubbles from your lips. “Let me finish, you weirdo. I can jerk you off, and you can just tell me when you’re about to finish.”

“Okay,” he answers right before his brows furrow. “Uh… why?”

“So you can come in my mouth,” you shrug like it’s obvious.

Your words knock the wind from Eddie’s lungs — it’s like you’ve punched him square in the stomach. Staring up at you through drooping eyelids, he swallows thickly, then nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s sounds… Yeah…”

You breathe out a laugh and lean closer to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. You couldn’t help yourself — he’s too damn adorable. Your fingers curl back around the hem of his pants and boxers, dragging them both down in one fell swoop to free his half-hard cock. You tuck the tops of them under his balls.

You’ve seen a lot of dicks in your time — long ones, short ones, thick ones, skinny ones — you could make a damn nursery rhyme of the variety you’ve seen. Eddie’s doesn’t particularly stand out.

It’s middling in length and in girth, not big but not too small either, with a width that won’t hurt to take but will stretch you out nonetheless.

His cock is pale and a faint strawberry red at the tip. It’s the same rosy color his cheeks get when he blushes. There’s a vein that trails up from his balls and splits like a forking river up to his bulbous head. The bush at his pubic bone is fitting for a metalhead, but it looks like he’s taken a trimmer to the chestnut hair there sometime in the past month or so.

His dick isn’t ugly and it isn’t special, but it’s perfect anyway because it’s his.

“You’ve got a really pretty cock, Eds,” you praise in a low whisper.

He thinks you must be trying to talk dirty, but your gaze gets all shy — quirked brow, curled lip, twinkled eye — like you must really mean it. You seal your compliment with a soft, lingering peck.

“Can dicks be pretty?” he asks you, the question muffled against your mouth.

“Not usually,” you blurt before you realize.

Most guys are gross. They don’t shave because they don’t think they have to. Sometimes they smell bad, too, because they never really learned how to wash themselves. Either that, or they taste overtly of soap because they shoved a whole bar of the stuff down their pants right before.

Boys tend to care less about the situation their cocks are in. Only a handful you’ve been with really knew how to take care of themselves — Eddie for one, Steve for another, and Billy Hargrove on occasion.

“But your’s definitely is,” you promise.

“Um… thanks?” He doesn’t mean for it to come out like a question; he just never thought that exact string of words would ever be spoken to him.

It’s a little bit surreal to receive a compliment on a part of you that most people wouldn’t typically notice — like your shoulders or lips or thighs. Eddie’s almost sure you’ve complimented each of those at some point or another.

You kiss him again, both because he makes it insanely hard not to and because you know that’s the only way to get him out of his head. He’ll never get hard if he’s worried about getting hard. So you keep kissing him, letting him focus on the pattern of your tastebuds and the curves of your cupid’s bow, while you happily do all the work.

Your fingertips trail up and down the underside of his cock. Your caresses are featherlight and meticulous along his warm, stiffening skin, all but coaxing him hard.

When his cock is totally stiff and standing at attention at his stomach, you part from Eddie to bring your palm to your mouth. You spit a glob of saliva onto the center of it and let the added lubricant help your fist glide along his dick.

A stifled groan rumbles in Eddie’s throat as your fingers wrap fully around him. You’re only touching his cock, but it feels like you’ve embraced every inch of them.

The pleasure feels like static, like he’s just rubbed his socks along the carpet and he’s sizzling with the newfound electricity. He feels it in the tips of his toes and in the strands of his hair.

“Um, just to, uh… save myself the embarrassment,” Eddie cautions shakily. His voice is a few octaves higher than normal and audibly fragile. “I should probably urge you to lower your expectations—” He has to stifle a whine when you squeeze the base of his cock. “—Just a little bit.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’m probably gonna come, like, really, really quickly,” he tells you and tries his best to laugh. It’s as shaky as the smile he gives you because you haven’t stopped touching him, even despite his warning.

Your fist squeezes his cock, then rises again. You pause momentarily to swipe your thumb over his leaking tip before sliding back down again. It’s a slow and methodical cycle that’s going to make him burst far quicker than he’d like.

“That’s okay,” you assure with the shake of your head, brows furrowed because you don’t know why that’s such a band thing. You shrug. “Just means there’s more time for me to make you do it again.”

Eddie huffs out a sigh as his cock twitches in your fist, growing somehow harder at your words.

Your unhurried pace hastens in a way that’s still obviously disciplined. Your hand moves faster until you hear his breath start to race and see his milky white chest splotch with red. Then, when his rapid pants begin to tremble, your pace goes back to normal.

You push him to the very edge of the cliff and then pull him backward before he falls.

It’d be agonizing if it didn’t feel so damn good.

His eyes have long fluttered shut by now. You miss his chocolate syrup irises, but the look of pure serenity on his face is the kind of beautiful most people pay to see. His agape mouth, bared neck, rosy cheeks, and long lashes that tickle the apples of them deserve to be hung in the Louvre.

It’s a sort of heavenly that everyone needs to admire in their lifetime, but one that belongs to only you. The sheer thought of someone else having him this way makes you angry, sparks raging orange embers just behind your sternum.

Eddie grows quiet. Suspiciously so. He isn’t moaning as much as he was before, and his chest is totally still, as though he were holding his breath. You feel his gentle grip on the outsides of your thighs start to harden. You figure the added tension helps him stay hushed. It’s less so accidental and more like he’s trying not to make noise.

“Let me hear you, Eds,” you urge in a whisper. “It’s okay. Go ahead and whine for me.”

The assurance barely spills from your mouth before he’s moaning for you. It’s a long, drawn-out whine that travels from his chest to his throat and out of his mouth, concluding in a fragile sigh.

The sound makes you double your efforts. You want him to make that noise again — you never want him to stop making that noise for you. So you squeeze harder, rise faster, and pay more attention to his rapidly reddening tip.

You’re not entirely sure what Eddie likes the most. Most guys moan louder when you do something they like, but he seems to like all of it, so you don’t pay extra attention to one place. You keep jerking his cock, faster still, even when the muscles of your forearm start to burn.

“Fuck—” the boy sighs in a heavy moan, then cuts himself off with a pitiful whine.

He tries to lift his head and open his eyes to look at you, but he doesn’t have the strength to anymore. His head lolls back again when the pleasure begins to crescendo.

Sufficiently stupid, he can’t even find the words to warn you. “I’m— I’m close, sweetheart,” he slurs lowly. “I’m… Fuck… Fuck, I’m gonna…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. His face screws up, nose scrunching and brows furrowing, as the feeling becomes almost unbearable. It’s all the warning you need.

Your fist holds onto the base of his cock as you dismantle his thigh and settle on the rug again. You don’t think twice before darting forward to lick the dribbles of pearly-white pre-come spilling from his reddened tip.

You wrap your lips around him totally, cheeks hollowing as you suck him there like he’s a piece of candy.

And Eddie dies. He passes away on the spot.

It’s the only way he can describe the feeling.

The crescendo of pleasure — that’s the life flashing before his eyes. The brief moment of numbness is the infinite void of death. The burst of ecstasy that spits from his cock in one, two, three loads is heaven.

It just has to be.

There can’t be a higher pleasure than the feeling of your mouth on his cock and the way you moan around him when his come spills on your tongue.

Eddie whines something pitiful. He loses all the previous inhibition that kept him so quiet he was too scared to breathe. One hand twists in the sheets while the other settles on the back of your hand, not pulling or tugging, just resting there as his hips buck off the mattress. He can’t tell if he’s running away from the intensity of his pleasure or if he never wants it to stop.

You don’t seem to mind that he doesn’t know.

You let his hips jerk wildly even when the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat and makes you gag. It does take everything in you not to laugh, however, when Eddie murmurs a fragile “sorry” through his cries.

And when his fingers knot in your hair, you don’t mind that either. You let him halfway fuck your mouth, even though you’re pretty sure he’s too far gone to notice that he’s fucking your mouth.

You don’t stop until he’s shuddering. Only when you’re sure he has nothing left to give you do you finally pull away from him. You leave a delicate kiss to the tip of his softening cock, no longer the angry red color it was moments ago. Eddie’s stomach clenches at the feeling of blatant sensitivity. His face scrunches as another feeble cry gets trapped in his throat.

You snap his boxers and pants back into place on his waist and rise.

“How was that for your first blowjob?” you ask him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Eddie just shakes his head in response. He flops back against the mattress, the springs bouncing under his weight, and tries to find the words to answer you.

He doesn’t know how to tell you that he just saw Heaven and Hell at the same time and that you were both God and the Devil. There isn’t any string of words in any language that could explain the otherworldly pleasure you gave him with nothing more than your hand and mouth, so he decides to stay quiet.

With his eyes still closed, he can hear you laughing quietly at him while you slither in at his side. You lie beside him on your stomach. When you’re finally in reach again, he peeks his eyes open and reaches for you, pulling you toward him for a searing kiss.

You think it might be the first time he’s ever done so without asking awkwardly first — as though there was a world where you would ever turn him down. He seems to understand that now, the way he kisses you without thinking twice about it.

His tongue swipes into your mouth. The both of you moan when he tastes the salty tang lingering there. Eddie doesn’t even realize that it’s him he’s tasting at first — that the heady bitter-sweetness on your tongue is his come.

It’s less so that he’s tasting himself, and more so that his taste is in your mouth at all, that makes him exhale a moan against you. The heavy breath of it fans against your cupid’s bow.

“Oh,” you hum through labored pants when you part again. “It was that good, huh?”

“Better,” he answers with a crooked smirk on his swollen pink mouth. He’s finally able to open his eyes and see more than a blur when his high starts to subside. “That was fucking… I mean, that was… fuck…”

His speechlessness makes you giggle. Your gaze stays locked on his profile when he turns to look up at the ceiling.

“That was exactly what I wanted. And, like, I didn’t even know I wanted it, you know?” he rambles. “How did you— How did you know? How do you always know?”

You’re not entirely sure what he means by that, and honestly, neither is he.

You just always know what he needs. You buy him a toothbrush because you know he’ll forget his, and when you touch him, you know exactly what he likes — even though he doesn’t even know what he likes.

It’s like you’re another half of him, and not in the stupid soulmate way everyone always thinks they’ve found. You’re an identical part of him that no one else can fit. He’s only whole with you — like a sandwich cut into triangles or halves of an orange.

“Well, to be fair, I did ask Steve what a guy would want in this sort of situation,” you admit with a scrunched nose. “I just sort of went with what he said.”

Eddie’s brows pinch together as he turns his head to peer at you again. He blinks at you for a moment, dumbfounded, then sputters. “Wait— You’re telling me I have Steve to thank for that blowjob? Like Steve-Steve? As in Steve The Hair Harrington?”

His dramatics makes you giggle. You hide your grin behind your palm.

“Hope that doesn’t change anything, Eddie Spaghetti.”

You meant it as a joke, as in, please don’t think of Steve every time I give you a blowjob from now on, but your words settle something heavy on the both of you.

Because you’ve had Steve The Hair Harrington, in more ways than most friends tend to have one another. You’ve had a lot of people like that. There are people in the world with parts of you that most only give away when they’ve found someone really, really special.

You learned about that too late. And now you feel a lot less special.

Eddie hears all your dreadful, no-good thoughts because they’re also his own.

He’s a virgin with the town slut, so he often feels like he’s drowning. It isn’t because of you, though. It’s never because of you. The number of people you’ve slept with doesn’t mean a damn thing to him; he just wants to measure up to them.

He wants to be the kind of man that sticks in your head after you’ve been with a thousand of them — the kind you can’t help but remember fondly because there hasn’t been another one like him.

He’s got no idea he’s already better than every person you’ve ever been with combined.

“No, sweetheart,” he assures with the shake of his head. The apple of his cheek rubs against the fabric of your comforter as he looks at you with eyes deeper than an infinite galaxy. His gaze holds all of its own stars, and each of them is named after you. “It doesn’t change a goddamn thing.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #virgin!eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #st oneshots

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kyleoreillylover · 7 months

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INSTAGRAM AU! Dominik Mysterio x Black!Fem!Reader

A/N: I got inspired by a fanfic like this, so I thought I'd take matters into my own hands and write one for my man Dominik. This took so long, so I hope you guys enjoy!

LIKED BY DOMINIK MYSTERIO, RHEA RIPLEY AND 2 MILLION OTHERS

y/n: dream world ☀️ pic creds to rhea :)

VIEW COMMENTS

dominikmysterio: my dream girl ;)

↳y/n: and don't you ever forget it ☺️

↳ rhearipley: dom dom don't forget that she was mine first!!

↳dominikmysterio: but now she's mine, not yours. sorry not sorry, mami 🤷

↳ynstan134: the girls are fighting 😭 Dom you better stop you know Rhea would beat your ass for y/n 😭

↳y/n: ladies, ladies, calm down, there's enough for me to go around 😉

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LIKED BY Y/N, FINN BALOR, RHEA RIPLEY AND 3 MILLION OTHERS

dominikmysterio: Kicked ass in the ring, and in WWE 2k23 (sorry not sorry babe).

tagged: y/n

VIEW COMMENTS

y/n: fr (I literally beat your ass in every single match and you told me to take it easy on you but it's whatever)

↳y/nstan123: LMAOO DOM WHY ARE YOU LYING

↳dominikmysterio: mi corazon why are you lying on my name 🤔 gaslighting is not healthy

↳y/n: I guess the pics I took of me winning are me gaslighting you then?

↳dominikmysterio: baby of course it's gaslighting, I don't expect anything less from you 🙄

damienpriest: bro didn't even let his girl win 😂 (you called me and finn on ft and complained about her winning)

↳y/nlover234: I love how everyone is just exposing Dom 😭

↳dominikmysterio: bro your supposed to be on my side!! ¿Qué pasa con el código hermano??!

↳damienpriest: Sorry bro, eras tú o Rhea y y/n me golpeó el trasero. 🤷

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LIKED BY WWE, DAMIEN PREIST, RHEA RIPLEY AND 2 MILLION OTHERS

y/n: You're either with us or beneath us 😈

tagged: dominikmysterio

VIEW COMMENTS

y/nstan234: the way he looks at her 🥹😭

finnbalor: so proud of everything you accomplished ❤️

↳y/n: thank you good sir ❤️ couldn't imagine ruling the wwe without you by my side

↳domlover619: this is so cute 😭 you and finn as a duo are so underrated

dominikmysterio: can I be on top of you?

↳tjdstan: ??!! DOM 😭 have some decorum

↳y/nlover134:bro can barely control himself in the ring with her, ya'll thought he would control himself on instagram 😭

↳y/n: sorry babe, that spot is reserved for rhea only 🤷 No hard feelings though! 😘

↳tjdstan: LMAAOO 😭 that's tough dom 😂

↳rhearipley: as it should be, love. sorry not sorry dom dom 🥰

↳damianpriest: you see me personally dom... i wouldn't take that disrespect. but that's just me 🤷

↳finnbalor: damien priest, mitb holder, tag team champion and number 1 instigator.

↳dominikmysterio: Priest, no me obligues a 619 tu trasero!

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

LIKED BY DOMINIK MYSTERIO, LIV MORGAN, FINN BALOR AND 3 MILLION OTHERS

y/n: we are very nice people I swear 🥰

VIEW COMMENTS

finnbalor: the nicest people I know (I'm being held against my will)

rhearipley: the both of you throw a fit whenever there are no chicken tenders on a menu

↳y/n: bc why aren't my chicken tenders there?? it should be the basis of every restaurant 🙄

↳dominikmysterio: exactly! because if a restaurant doesn't have chicken is it really a restaurant?

↳rhearipley: ....ya'll are made for each other.

dominikmysterio: I don't know why people don't like us we're literally so sweet like wtf🤨

↳y/n: exactly! idk why people in the wwe hate our guts! like what did we do to ya'll??!

↳tjdstan: didn't ya'll literally attack ilja and lyra last night 😭

↳y/n: they literally attacked us first?? are you blind? you call yourself a tjd Stan but you aren't acting like one!!

↳wwenxt: we love a gaslighting queen

↳tjdstan: I'm sorry?! 😭 but they wouldn't have hit ya'll if you guys didn't literally deck them first outta nowhere 😭

damienpriest: no lies were told

↳y/n: and that's why you are my 2nd fav 🥰

↳damienpriest: thank you chica, but why am I not first?

↳y/n: bc rhea exists??? what kind of question is that.

↳dominikmysterio: what about me, mi vida??

↳rhearipley: you heard the lady, dom.

↳y/n: sorry baby, it's the truth 🤷 better luck next time 💋

↳tjdlover: rhea x y/n wins every time dom, you need to get with the program!!!

THIS COMMENT WAS LIKED BY Y/N AND RHEA RIPLEY.

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hollyhomburg · 1 year

Text

Before I Leave You (Pt. 53)

(Sneak Peek)(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: A snippet of the future- a flash forward- in which you and jimin reach an...agreement.

Tags: pleasure dom Jimin, pillow princess m/c, oral (f. receiving), fingering, knotting, talks of gender and sex, Talks of killing people, talking ill of the dead, assassin! jimin, implied autistic! jimin, Flash Forwards, intentionally vague moments

W/c: 7.770

A/n: please be patient with me regarding the rut chapter ie the chapter after this one! i’m visiting my brother next week in LA so!!! things will take some time. hopefully this little jimin nugget will tide you over. although this isn’t the most unique sex chapter i do really like it. in the meantime! recommend me some stuff to do in la! i’m hoping it’s going to be a restful trip but ngl...it’s not looking great.... i don’t like planning things that other people are going to potentially not enjoy 😠 i’m meant to be a passenger princess threw and threw

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

Chapter 53: I’d do Worse (Sneak Peak)

Jimin promptly takes one of the tubes of paint, a light blue- the same light blue that you ended up painting the upstairs bathroom, and squishes it out onto the canvas below you. Near your hand but not on it.

The breath you were holding rushes out in a single jagged laugh, “Okay, now I’m lost- I thought the whole point of the plastic and drop cloths was not to get paint on them.”

The look he shoots you asks you to suspend your disbelief. Especially once he starts doing that to all the other colors. He continues to drop careful splotches of paint around you. Enough that it would take a lot of concentration to get out of the room without tracking dark blue or pink or yellow or red halfway across the house.

You wonder what exactly Jimin plans to do to you. Paint included. He puts out a spurt of yellow paint on your side and then another.

Surely sooner rather than later, noodle is going to wander in here in search of a pool of sunlight, track his paws or tail through the paint, and leave pawprints everywhere throughout the house. Yoongi will probably complain about them, but you might make him keep them instead of washing them away.

When he’s finished, Jimin turns a yellow tube over in his hands. Back and forth, the cap flashing like a rising and setting small yellow sun. jimin’s voice is low when he speaks, near reverent. “You’re the first woman I was ever with- that I ever knew I was with.”

It’s an admission and an admonishment, one that you and the rest of your pack have been tiptoeing around. Even though Tae’s a woman now- she hadn’t always been- at least not in a way the pack could compensate for. While new lines in the sand are drawn that doesn’t mean the old lines totally fade away. It will take a few more cycles of low and high tide to completely grow used to this.

Jimin fiddles with a small red tube of paint. “I’m a rigid person, I know I am. i don’t like change most of the time and I know, I know things shouldn’t be so planned, I know that’s not the way things usually go but-” You nuzzle close to Jimin, and his words extinguish into a sigh, his hands coming up to your sides, the same place he always likes to hold, between your shoulder blade and your ribcage.

“But you need them to be this way sometimes. Planned? so you can make sure everything’s done right” You press.

He bristles, “If you’re expecting me not to say that I want everything to be perfect when I can make it that way then-”

“You’re such a control freak Minnie.” you say it with a smile, playing your fingers through some of the milky pink white, feeling the tackiness between your fingers.

“You don’t hate it?”

You shrug. “Jin’s that way too sometimes. So no, I guess I don’t hate it. Maybe it’s just because I like- really fucking hate making decisions.”

He grimaces, but Jimin’s eyes dart from your face down to your crossed legs. settling on something. “Do you care if those clothes get dirty?”

“A little- I like these shorts.”

“then you should take them off.” your heart thuds as jimin leans over you, tugging on the strap of your Tanktop with his teeth, lips pressed to the bare skin of your shoulder, dragging them down. He plays at being sexy but decides not to be, settling for leaning his cheek on your shoulder and watching you.

“I had kind of this stupid idea, if you don’t want to do it just say so. This is every shade of pink that we ever painted the house. Tae’s favorite color is pink- and the canvas- i thought it might be nice to have like- some art in her library room- that’s what I meant about making it planned.”

“Are you saying you want to make sex art or something?” Jimin blushes yet again. You should be keeping track of how many times he has and use them for leverage.

“You know gift giving is like, my second love language if that bullshit is to be believed and-”

“-Oh my god you actually do want to make sex art.”

Coming Saturday May 6th at 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments Below)

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zmediaoutlet · 1 year

Note

What's your opinion on the fandom rhetoric about how Sam lacks bodily autonomy but Dean has it? I personally think it's weird that it's such a widespread idea when it's just blatantly untrue. A big theme for Dean's character is that his body is seen as a weapon or tool for others to use, so it's strange that people claim that he has full bodily autonomy.

(...okay, that the gif is by 'unfuckablebogtroll' is somehow very fitting.)

I think my main opinion of the fandom rhetoric is that there are a lot of batshit bitter sam girls who screech that dean is a meanie meanerton who doesn't respect sammy's presh 'tonomy and there are a lot of batshit extreme dean girls who wail about how sam is a meanie meanerton who, idk, waterboards dean in his spare time or whatever they're complaining about this week (I've unfollowed as many as I can of both camps), so for the most part both groups can be completely flushed down into the sewers of 'jesus christ, do you guys ever actually watch the show rather than circlejerk the same four arguments about it? ...no? oh. well, at least you're honest.'

So, with that said.

Yeah, obviously Dean lacks autonomy. But there's a difference between autonomy and agency, and I'm not going to pretend to have a super solid grasp on either (since a lot of philosophical debate [especially by fangirls] makes me want to jump into the aforementioned sewer just not to hear it anymore), but I can at least kind of make a stab, since you asked.

At least in the way I understand it (do you see all the caveats), bodily autonomy is literally getting to decide what happens to your body, including where it goes and who's inside it and what's done with it, and agency is general decision-making of like the brain sort -- what decisions will I make, who will I be, and so on. Both Sam and Dean are assailed on both fronts alllllll the time. Fandom folks tend to exaggerate those assaults on their preferred brother (because, for some reason, egregious victimhood is the only way you get to be a cool character?? what is that about.), but as with a lot of things in CW's Supernatural, the actual facts are a lot more balanced than fandom weirdos will admit.

Sure, Sam's got a bunch of autonomy assaults. Torture, possession, etc. Most of the time, though, I see his agency as pretty intact. He may not necessarily want to do some of the things he does (childhood hunting comes in here), but he chooses to do them. Is he manipulated sometimes? Sure. Lied to? Obv. But there's an essential steel pillar at the center of Sam and whether they're good choices or whether they're bad choices, he is the one who makes them, and he lives with those consequences. This is part of why the s9 thing with Gadreel is troubling: yeah, it's about bodily autonomy on one (more boring) level, but the much bigger problem is that Dean overrode his agency -- part of why I tend to believe that Sam's biggest objection is that Dean lied and then couldn't apologize for it, when Sam's agency is the most precious thing he owns. Now, he's a smart guy, and there are times his agency does take a blow because of some canon circumstance -- he doesn't want to do X but the world will end if Y, so X it is -- but for the most part Sam's solid and he can live with what he has to do. Though he won't pointlessly die of blue balls about it. What a silly stand on agency that would be.

Dean, meanwhile, doesn't actually have his bodily autonomy violated too much. By which I mean: of course, Dean-as-object is one of my favorite tags, of COURSE he's used as a meatsack and a weapon and a fuckdoll and all those lovely things. But he's very rarely literally possessed; he's holding the blade or the gun or what-have-you. That said, his agency is in the fuckin' gutter, haha, and that's more often what I mean by Dean-as-object. From childhood he's fully expecting to be told what to do, to be used as a pawn, to be used in other ways, to take on someone else's responsibility and make it his own and subsume his actual desires and wants for the good of... whoever. Usually John, but not always. This is something Sam doesn't really... do, that often. Sam might hate that he's making a choice but he does seem to understand that he is the one making it, whereas on Dean's part it so often feels like the choice is automatic -- of course he'll do what John says, of course he'll sell his soul, of course he'll... kiss some lady so the Qareen chases him instead. Now, are all those things tied to autonomy, too? Of course. But with Dean I feel like it's a bigger issue that his agency has been taken out at the knees ever since he was ~5 years old -- the autonomy problem is very much secondary.

Agency and autonomy are tied together and assaults on both happen relatively equally to both characters. What matters more is their attitudes about it, and their natures (whether they're essential or if they've been nurtured into acting a particular way). And, of course, there are different times in canon where these tendencies shift or even flip, e.g. in late s8 where Sam's certainty wobbles, or in s10 where Dean's autonomy w/r/t the Mark of Cain is really dicey.

Violated vs violable, victimized vs victim. A ton of it is in the eye of the beholder and OBVIOUSLY fandom will just sail off in its own directions any ol' way, depending on what shipping mood someone is in, how much projection is going on, what the phase of the moon is, etc. But generally speaking I find that Sam has a lot of agency in his life but often his autonomy is imperilled; Dean has a lot of autonomy but his agency is practically nil. At least for a while. What's nice is that Sam does have agency and he uses that agency to choose his own path in life, decide what he wants, and what he wants is -- a life with Dean. Dean maybe never really had a choice in the matter, but so what? He can stay in his bunker, and fight the monsters he needs to fight, and -- lucky for him, there's a strong hand covering his left side. What more could a cat ask for.

#answers #spn meta #i imagine people will hate on this but fuck it #people who don't respect sam's agency: miss me #or whatever it is the kids say #people who think dean can make up his own mind: lol #where were you when uhh all of the backstory happened #now obv it's all very nuanced and complicated but like #why are you doing the trauma olympics #it all sucks. they choose to deal with it and live.#hallelujah

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bangtaninborderland · 1 year

Text

PJM: Trust Me

Summary: Jimin asks for your trust once more and this time you give it to him. Inspired by this video.

Genre: Fluff, smut

Warnings: smut - sub and dom undertones, teasing, denial, degradation (minimally - use of the word dumb, slut, cums1ut.), fingering, hair pulling, choking, rough s33x ?, oral ( m receiving) humiliation?, honestly it’s just absolute filth.

A/N: I really worked so hard on this please share your thoughts, this is the final part, I may do an epilogue but it has been really fun writing this little fic. I am so proud of jimin for his Dior deal. I’m sorry this took so long to come out I’m currently going through a little personal crisis. Anyways, enjoy 💜 also a huge Thank you so much for all the love you have shared on the first three chapters, the response was and still is overwhelmingly beautiful l'm so glad over 400 of you have enjoyed it enough to like it and continued to read for the majority of it. I’m so sorry if I didn’t tag everyone for some reason it wasn’t letting me edit it. I will be doing an epilogue on the wedding and some scenes with Aeri and yoonjin getting a little closer and then I’ll do a special chapter of the family dinner and that will be this all wrapped up, it’s crazy to think this started as just a little smut fic wrote for some friends. Seriously thank you all.

Taglist: @filtrmin @blairtann @parkjiminlovies

Previous chapter ⇐ |

You didn’t know wether to move, to speak or to continue staring and the blank spot on the wall right beside Jimins head.

“It wasn’t exactly how I wanted to ask you.” You see his nerves as he rubs the back of his neck, looking just as unsure as you no doubt.

“Jimin?” It was the only thing you could say.

Of course you’d considered marriage, you’d never thought about spending a day without the man ever since you met him but that was always something you’d though about dealing with when the time came. Were you really ready?

You remained still as he walked towards you, shaking off whatever nerves he was displaying so clearly moments earlier, his hand encasing your own as he falls to his knees. You was about to protest but it was cut off instantly his head shaking as he presses a kiss to your palm.

“I know what you’re doing, I know what your thinking, don’t do that.” You can’t help but stubbornly smile at the way he understands the inner workings of your mind without you having to vocalise it. You stay silent letting him know it’s okay to continue.

“I have a confession to make.” a breath “In the past ten years I’ve helped release many love songs but I was a fraud, at least until the day I met you. I never knew what love was like, i watched my parents and wondered if I’d ever have a love like that, I watched the members have countless relationships, I watched sappy love movies that Jungkook complained about but nevertheless agreed to watch and then cried about” a laugh “but I had never had a love until the day I met you. I remember it like it was yesterday, you standing there like a wet dog scared i would murder you instead of just giving you a ride home, you knowing who I was but treating me just like another being.” a smile “I had this whole thing planned out, the calls, the schedule, the lies that I probably show have been more careful about, it was all to plan a perfect day full of happiness where eventually I would drop down on to one knee and do this.”

He moves his hand to his pocket pulling out a box

“You are my warmth on a cold day, my confidence when I’m overthinking, my energy when I’m tired, my hope on a bad day, my joy on a good one, you’re the person who puts everything aside to be there for me, the only person who treated me as me and expected me to be as such. I cannot imagine my life without you, I can’t imagine coming home and you not being there. I know it’s hard, the schedules, the tours, performances, fans, rules, I know it’s draining but you’ve stayed through it all. You’ve been my person in a way I never thought I’d be lucky enough to experience. I want to give you the world, I want to take you to every country and show you the most beautiful things, I want to bring you as much joy for the rest of my life as you have brought me in the years we have been together, I want to be your husband and some day if we are lucky enough I’d very much like to be the father of your children. So I am asking you.” a tear “will you give me the honour of being the person who gets to love you for the rest of your life. Will you marry me?” a sob.

For a moment you forgot how to breathe, forgot how to move, forgot how to think, for a moment the world stopped as you flashed your lips against his, your head nodding conveying an answer your mouth could not.

Forever was a long time but you knew, you know you’d spend forever with him.

“Is that a yes?” He asks pulling back from the kiss, his face as tear stained as your own.

“Yes it’s a yes.” You laugh, a sense euphoria surround you both.

“The ring?” He asks, holding the box towards you.

In the midst of his beautifully worded speech he had forgotten to do one of the most important thing, show you the ring. Although, it didn’t matter for all you cared it could have been a piece of string and you would have said yes.

You looked at the box for a few seconds before opening it, it was safe to say you was both surprised and in love with it. It was a slim silver band with a simple white diamond in the middle, the sides donning more of the sort just in purple and half the size. It was jimin. It was so jimin and you loved it.

“I didn’t know if you’d like it if you don’t then it’s fine we can go to the store and change it I had it altered the purple ones were added as an extra… so I probably couldn’t return it because it’s customised … but we could get another one and you could keep that one if you wanted to… I mean not keep it if you don’t like it you could sell it… could you sell a engagement ring…do people sell them.. probably right? EBay? I don’t know.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at him, shaking your head. “It’s perfect, no one will be selling or returning anything and it is definitely not going on eBay. Put it on me husband to be?”

You didn’t miss the smirk that crossed his face as he took the ring box from your hand, not only was the ring perfect the size was too. “I love it so much, I love you.”

“I love you more, did you really think I was going to break up with you?” His voice was deep, a lower tenor most likely a byproduct of the crying session you had both participated in.

Your earlier accusation hit you in the fact, the embarrassment working it’s way through your mind. “Yes, you’d been acting weird min and your phone calls sounded like you’d been planning it.”

“You listened to my phone calls?” He raised an eyebrow.

“No.” You winced. “Not really I just overheard it when I was coming back into the room, I should have said something but I didn’t want you to feel like I was invading your privacy, I’m sor-“

He was actually shushing you, his finger pressed over your lips and for a second you shamefully though about biting it but refrained when he pulled it away.

“My privacy is your privacy. Namjoon and Jin Hyung were right they both said it would seem like I was lying to you and I can see how it may have looked that way but I just wanted to make it special for you. I wanted to show you how much I love you.” The pout across his lips was adorable.

“I know minie, you made it special for me even if it wasn’t done in the way you wanted. Every day is special with you.” You felt better reassuring him, in a way it reassured you too.

“You know there’s still a very big engagement party taking place tomorrow right?” He asks dropping his head to your shoulder, his small frame bigger against your own.

“You really planned to ask me tomorrow? Who was going to be there?” You leaned your head to the side giving him better access to your neck where his lips had began to place small kisses.

“Some of my family, some friends, the members. Small.” His answer was short and you was grateful for that, his hands distracting you too much as he caressed your hip.

You threw your head back, just about ready to ask him to bed you over right then and there before he stepped back leaving you in utter confusion. “Busy day tomorrow.”

Definitely time to provoke him, after all you was able to be devilish too sometimes. “So tonight you’re all mine then, won’t you remind your fiancé how good you can make her feel?”

“I wouldn’t start with me right now sweetheart. I’m not sure i would be most forgiving.” Your pussy throbs at the dominant tone to his voice.

Mustering your best innocent face you look up at him through your eyelashes. “Oh and what would you have to forgive?”

“My fiancé is a slut who forgets who she belongs to.”

Fuck Park fucking Jimin.

You was ready to drop to your knees, your voice and confidence stolen by the man.

“Bedroom, now.”

You scurry up the stairs, almost falling back down them as your foot missed a step towards the top. The bedroom was clean, even in his busiest moments Jimin made sure your home was perfect. You smiled at the thought before focusing on your own dilemma; where to sit.

You thought about laying across the bed but that didn’t seem like enough, not for tonight. So you did something for the man that you hadn’t done in a while - after stripping down all but your underwear, you dropped to your knees, head down, hands on your clothed thighs.

Jittering butterflies beat around the wall of your stomach as you heard his footsteps near, slowly rounding into the room. “Aren’t you a beauty.”

“I’m your beauty, Sir.” You blush at the use of the title.

“Sir tonight is it? Not Jimin? Not baby?” You could already guess the way his expression would look as he asked the question and as much as you wanted to see it you refrained, whenever things got like this he was in control and he did not like disobedience.

You almost nodded but remembered the rules he had set the first time you’d had this kind of play. Moving without permission was a big no. “Yes Sir.”

“You’re so fucking perfect, take my cock out.”

Your hands shot up to the waistband of his sweatpants before being smacked away, the movement making you jolt back.

“Sir?” You questioned, your eyes flicking towards him for a second, dazed with confusion.

“Did I say use your hands?” His voice was firm but laced with a superiority that made you feel embarrassed “I know my fiancé can be a little dumb sometimes so I’ll let you try again.”

With your hands crossed off the list you knew the only option would be to use your mouth. It was rare that Jimin liked to be degrading or to humiliate you, usually opting to be dominant in a softer way. However, it was a lie to say you didn’t love when he got like this, your pussy already coated in a slickness from his words alone.

You struggled to get your teeth around the waistband, something jimin thankfully didn’t comment on, his hand coming to caress the back of your head instead.

“So you can think for yourself.” You groaned at what his praise implied, just as you managed to pull his sweatpants low enough for his already hard cock to spring free.

You couldn’t help trying to take him into your mouth, you wanted him, you wanted him in your mouth, fucking your throat. You were stopped however when Jimins fingers gripped your hair, forcing you to look towards the ground. “Sluts don’t take what they aren’t given, do they?”

“No Sir.” You squealed, his grip in your hair tightening.

“Go lay on the bed, hang your head off the edge, you want to be used so bad I’m going to fuck your throat and you’re going to take it.”

You practically threw yourself on the bed, head hanging off to see him standing right in front of your face, you didn’t have time to catch a breath before he was lining himself up against your mouth and forcing his cock inside. You let your jaw go lax, careful to make sure your teeth were no where near him.

“You look so pretty with my cock down your throat baby, you were made for this.” His hands caressed your hair, his breath shaky and you gag around him.

The sight of him was ethereal, head thrown back, his hair falling down his forehead, his eyes focused on you and only you. You wished you could take it all in for a few more minuets as he pulled you off, giving you a chance to catch your breath, his hands reaching out to steady you as he helps you up.

“On the bed doll, I want you facing me.” His lips grazed against your jaw as he gave you a nudge towards the mentioned furniture.

You silently nodded, voice hoarse from his assault on your throat.

By the time you laid down, which admittedly only took a few seconds, Jimin had rid himself of any clothing, his body bare. You admired it, every curve, every muscle, every perfectly drawn tattoo.

He was unreal, perfect, heavenly, and he was going to be your husband.

“I love you.” You whispered against his ear as he dragged his cock up and down your folds.

His breath was heavy, as he fucked into you, the words sounding rough as he moaned “I’m in love with you.”

“Fuck me Sir.” You dug your nails into his hips and he placed your leg over his shoulder allowing him better access to you, his arms supporting his body above you as he fucked you as if you was both nothing and everything.

All you could do was babble useless words, too high on him to think straight, his fingertips had began to draw maps over your tits, occasionally squeezing your nipple just enough to make you hiss in pleasure.

“I’m going to cum inside of your tight little pussy okay princess?” The question wasn’t really a question but you nodded anyway, just wanting more of him.

It’s all you could think.

Jimin Jimin Jimin.

You knew the moment he came as his body slouched over, his own moans louder than yours had been. He slid out of you as he sucked against the skin of your neck to which you whined in response earning a breathless laugh from him.

“My cock is never enough for you is it doll? Always so greedy for more.” You knew he was taunting you and you was happy to give in.

“Please minie, need it, need you.” You reached out for him, trying to pull him back as he slid lower between your legs.

He landed a warning slap against your thigh, enough to settle you down and allow him to continue whatever plan he had in mind.

You let out an embarrassingly loud moan as he caressed your cunt with his fingers, sliding them inside of you as his own mouth clasped around your clit.

You couldn’t help but grind against his face, chasing your own pleasures “More, please more, wanna cum on your face.”

He answered your pleas by angling his fingers and grazing them against your gspot. Your hands flailed to grab his head, unable to do anything else but enjoy the overwhelming pleasure. “Gonna cum.” You screamed as he grazed your clit with his teeth, finally giving you the push you needed to reach your orgasm.

He didn’t stop devouring your cunt with his tongue even as you rid your orgasm out, the pleasure becoming too much, enough to have you trying to push him away, the soft grip you had on his hair turning into a desperate attempt to push him away from your sensitivity.

His free hand only moved to grab your wrists, preventing any attempt at you getting away.

“Too much, plea- too much- jim - fuck” you couldn’t form a coherent sentence as you tried to move yourself away, the headboard of the bed stopping you.

You felt his cum dripping out from you as he continued to fuck his tongue into you, only stopping when he had determined he had enough. “How was it baby, how do you feel? Let me get you cleaned up okay? I’ll go run us a bath.”

You nodded even though you couldn’t make out what he was saying, your head hazy with the overriding pleasure he had given you. You don’t know how many minuets passed when you felt yourself being moved from the bed, tiredness wearing your limbs down.

You cling to neck, your head fighting to hide further away into his chest.

“I’m not going anywhere jagiya, just getting us into the bath.”

You relaxed at his words, you were always safe with him.

The water was a welcomed treat, you always felt better after a bubble bath, you had told Jimin that on your second date, it was adorable that he remembered even now.

“Jimin?” You lean back against his chest, the water rippling at your movements.

His hands wrap around your waist. “Hm?”

“Thank you for helping me.”

“What?”

“Thank you for helping me that day, thank you for picking me up and insisting on driving me home. Even when it was you who opened the car door I was still scared, idols can be murderers too you know. I never expected I’d fall in love minie, I never expected you to call my job the next week and ask me on a date, I never expected anything after that but I am so fucking thankful that it all happened. I don’t know what I have done to deserve you, to deserve your love but all I can do is be thankful that you chose to help me that day because it was the day I started to learn how to live.” You felt your face heat up as tears prickled at your eyes, as far as love stories go yours with Jimin will always be your favourite.

“Jagiya” his voice was strained, a sign he himself was crying too. “If I could go back I’d do it all over again, thank you for accepting me, for being with me and learning to love me not just loving the Jimin of BTS that the world sees. I remember being so afraid to ask you on a date. I spent hours talking to Namjoonie Hyung about it, he told me if I wanted something there was no reason not to take a chance on it because despite our fame we are still all just human beings who need human connections. I was shocked when you tried to pay for the first date but I think that was when I knew you didn’t want me for any other reason than just me, we both know I probably could have brought the entire restaurant but I’ll never forget the way you threatened the waiter to let you pay or you’d tell his manager that he had been rude.”

You both laughed at the memory, you were slightly disappointed with yourself for being so stubborn. “I wonder what happened to him.” You giggled.

“I tipped him for his troubles, the day after I went back and gave him enough to make him forget you. You know, I never thought I’d deserve something like this. Something just for me.”

“I’ll always be just for you Jimin, many things in life are but you are stubborn in your own way, you refuse to see the things you deserve but that’s okay because I’ll be here forever to show you.”

The conversation fell silent after that, his hands massaging your head as you both enjoyed the warm water. You didn’t stay in the tub for much longer as the bubbles dissipated, both deciding to get out than turn into prunes. He wrapped you up in a towel and helped you get dry before dressing you in one of his own shirts and tucking you into bed, the last words you heard being the sweet nothings he mumbled against your skin.

When you woke up the sun had covered the bedroom, the smell of food knocking your senses into action. Your body felt lethargic from your last night activities but the ache only made you smile. It would be a reminder of the way he made love to you.

You didn’t have a chance to get out of bed before he rounded into the room carrying a tray of breakfast.

“Happy birthday fiancé.” He smiled placing the tray over your legs.

“Good morning my husband to be. This looks amazing oppa come eat with me.” You winked at him as you mumbled the honorific you rarely used.

“You know you never call me oppa but you call Namjoonie Hyung and jin Hyung it and even sometimes yoongi Hyung.” He fiend a pout as he bit into a waffle.

“That’s because you specifically told me not too after that dinner with your parents.” You reminded him, after you had been dating for a few months he had wanted to introduce you to his parents, they had welcomed you with open arms and cooked a beautiful meal. You had wanted to show your best side so you remained respectful, however you had gotten way too embarrassed and ended up using the term towards Jimins dad. The whole situation was mortifying but it led to be a great memory that you all laugh at.

“Don’t ever bring that up whilst I’m eating” he huffs and you both break out laughing, the breakfast nearly toppling over as jimin fighting to cling to the bed sheets, his body nearly falling onto the floor.

A few minuets after your laughing fit he cleared his throat, his face more serious. “We have a short drive to take soon, I haven’t told anyone I proposed already I thought we could turn the party around and instead of it being a surprise party for you we arrive early and make it a surprise party for them.”

“Them who Min?” You asked, never getting a clear answer from him the previous day

“My parents and brother, the members and Aeri.”

You almost choked at the last name on his list on invited people, you hadn’t seen your cousin in over 5 years, you and your parents admittedly had a difficult relationship so you chose best to not speak, supporting yourself after moving out at 17. Aeri had been forbidden to talk to you, you were no longer good enough in your family’s eyes, once you left your parents you were disgraced.

“How?” You didn’t know what else to say, completely dumbfounded.

“She misses you, I managed to get her number and I called her and explained the situation, I told her I was going to propose and that you’d want her there. She’s alone too, your aunt kicked her out a few years ago she said she tried to find you but didn’t know where to look she didn’t know if you was still in seoul. She lives in Daegu but I had Yoongi Hyung pick her up and she’s currently at a Hotel.” He was patient as you broke down into tears, she had been alone this whole time.

There were so many things you wanted to ask but nothing seemed right. “How did she react when she found out who you were?” Somehow you deducted that was a smart question.

“Is that really your main concern?” He laughed, discarding the breakfast to to envelop you in a hug.

You nodded against him, breathing in his cologne. He always smelt good.

“Well she thought I was pranking her but when Yoongi Hyung picked her up she Instantly asked him if I was as short as he is.” You weren’t surprised at her question.

“How did he reply?”

“He told her to walk to seoul and locked the doors. It only lasted about 5 minuets before he finally let her in after she promised to buy him food as a token of her gratitude.”

“Did she buy him food?”

“I think she did, she told him he needed it to grow.”

You couldn’t hold in your laughter any more at that. You could already picture the look on Yoongis face as he grumbled some form of scolding that your cousin definitely would have ignored and continued teasing. She was always like that. Always fun.

You and jimin laid in bed for a little while longer before he pressed a kiss to your forehead and removed himself from behind you. “You have an hour to get ready jagiya I’ll be downstairs.”

You guessed he too had gone to prepare himself for the day as you heard the downstairs shower running.

The weather allowed you to wear something pretty, a designer dress that Jimin had brought you a few months ago but you had never had the pleasure of wearing.

Your hair was an easy fix, wearing it in a lazy ponytail.

You paired the blue dress with a pair of white heels and white thermal coat. You didn’t miss the way Jimin visibly froze as you walked down the stairs, his jaw dropping to the floor as you gave him a twirl.

“You look amazing.” You cut off his compliments with a kiss before leaning back to take in his own look.

He wasn’t dressed completely formal but his black dress pants and blue shirt made him look as if he was a model. “We are matching”

“Well we are going to get married so we have to start at some point.” You rested your head against his chest, the heels adding on a few more inches height wise. Although, not enough to be as tall as him.

“Are you ready?” He asked, his hand tracing circles over your back.

“I’m ready if you are.” You we’re both nervous and excited for the day.

“There’s one thing you’re missing.” He sighed, before you could ask he had already turned back around, heading for the office he rarely used.

He returned a few minuets later, gift bag in hand.

“Jimin no.” You was firm about your distaste for gifts, he was more than enough.

“Open it.”

“Jimin.”

“Jagiya”

“Don’t jagiya me.”

“Open the gift and I won’t.”

“You already got me a ring.”

“Yeah and if you don’t open the gift I’ll be giving you a baby.”

His argument silenced you and you nodded in defeat, within the bag was another small box, this one holding a bracelet.

The number 13 engraved into the small pendant.

“Jimin.” You didn’t know what to say, it was perfect, it was his number. He gave you a few minuets to compose yourself before securing it onto your arm. “If I cry I will ruin my make up and we don’t have time to fix it but thank you”

“Happy birthday jagiya, I know we can’t always be as public as we would like to be but know that I am always with you, always thinking about you and always tied to you. If it’s something you want I’ll talk to the company about making a statement but we can discuss that later okay? Let’s get going.” He held his hand out to you, he knew you’d need time to think about allowing the entirety of the world to know about your engagement, selfishly you wanted him to yourself for a little while longer.

The drive was quiet, the street only fairly busy but that was mostly because of how early it was. You could see Jimin was nervous from the way his fingers pounded against the steering wheel every time you come up to a red light, normally you’d give him time to think things out he often got caught up in his own head but today was one of those times you wanted him as carefree as you felt.

“Min.” You placed your hand at the back of his neck, massaging his scalp with his nails.

He leaned his head back slightly, making it easier for you to reach the other side of his head. “What’s wrong Jagi?”

“I’m the one who should be asking you that, you’ve already done the proposing so why are you so nervous?” You cocked your head to the side.

“I guess I’m nervous to tell everyone, I’m nervous to meet your cousin too I mean what if she tells me I’m shorter than Yoongi Hyung?” He laughed at his joke as did you.

You sighed feigning a nod. “I’m pretty sure she will.”

He cut you a short glare before refocusing on the road. “You’re so mean.”

“You love me.”

“That, I do.”

“I’m worried too, I’m worried to face your members and your parents, I’m nervous about seeing my cousin but I know you’ll be there holding my hand every step of the way. You’ve never let me fall before and neither have I you, we will face this the same way we will face the future.”

“And how is that?” He asks, body a little more lax.

“Together.”

You arrived shortly after the conversation came to an end, it was a small cabin surrounded by plenty of forestry, something that was both hard to find and expensive in Seoul.

“It’s beautiful.” You placed a chase kiss against his cheek as his fingers intertwined with your own, him walking a few paced in front as he leads the way inside.

“I had Jin Hyung and Aeri do the decorations, Namjoonie Hyung wanted to help but Aeri said he would probably knock everything down so he should just manage the playlist.” You couldn’t help but feel fond at the way your cousin had made herself feel at home with the people Jimin sees as family, it made you feel a little more comfortable with the aim of the day.

“So how long until everyone arrives?” You watch as he unlocks the door, completely sure he was taking twice as long just to make you wait with your growing impatience.

“Well don’t kill me okay? I know I said we would be here to surprise everyone but I guess I still wanted to make this special for you.”

“Jimin what? I don-“

You didn’t get a chance to finish your question as the door swung open revealing the faces of the people closest to you.

Cheers of “SURPRISE!!” And “CONGRATULATIONS” came from the members, with jimins parents waiting at the side.

You greeted them first giving them both a respectful bow before they each pulled you in for a hug. “I wouldn’t want anyone else with him, thank you for taking care of my son.”

The words of your soon to be mother in law sprung tears to your eyes, your previous worry of preventing your make up from smudging no longer feeling significant.

“Thank you for trusting me and letting me be a part of your family. I know we may not always get to see one another but I promise you I will be the best wife.”

“We never doubted that.” Jimins dad always made things seem so much easier than they were, his confidence in those he cares for always making things better.

You gave them both another hug before moving on to greet the members.

“HAPPY ENGAGEMENT NOT ENGAGEMENT BECAUSE JIMIN COULDNT WAIT PARTY NOONA” Jungkook half shouted wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Kook that makes no sense” Jimin doubled over in laughter as streamers were popped off from various corners of the room.

You turned towards Taehyung and Hoseok as they called your name, both of them hugging you at the same time. “Thank you for taking care of our Jiminie, I know it’s not easy but you always take care of us all.”

“I always will, we need to restart our monthly dinner parties.” You we’re fond of the times you had the scheduled meals, you’d always get to cook alongside either Jin, Yoongi or Jimin and it would be a way for you all to get to know one another.

“Ill mark it on my calendar.” Hobi was firm in his decision, pulling out his phone before you could respond.

“How is tan?” You turned to Taehyung who was already flashing his camera roll at you.

“He is so big” he giggled. You’d definitely make him send you those later.

You moved around the room towards the quieter man. “Yoongi oppa?”

“There’s the wife to be.” He smiled giving you his version of a hug.

“So you knew?”

He nodded in response, lips pressed in a line to stop his grin. “I did.”

“And you let me accuse him of dumping me.” You raised an eyebrow at him, unamused.

He laughed quietly before pretending to scold you. “Hey in my defence I told you to talk to him.”

“I can’t believe you.” You joined in on his silent laughter before looking back, you could see Jimin and Jungkook talking with his parents. “Do you really thing I’m good enough for him?” You felt free asking the question that had been plaguing your mind for the past god knows how many hours.

“I think that you need to see yourself as equal. You pick him up where he lacks as he does you. I don’t think I could ever imagine Jimin without you. It doesn’t matter who has what, if that’s the case you know jimin would pay every bill that ever came through but we both know you’d never let that happen.”

“Because we have an equal part to play.” You explain.

“That’s exactly me point. You are equals, neither of you is less or more and trust me I’ve known Jimin for a very long time and if anyone could make smart decisions it’s him. He chose you and you chose him, that’s all that matters.” You we’re thankful for him, even though he was emotionally reserved he was wise.

“You’re hogging her.” You could already hear the pout in the man behind you.

You turned to face him, putting on your best “serious” look. “Seokjin Oppa, no one is hogging me.”

“Aish, then you’re hogging yoongi.” He tries to hide his neck as it darkens a shade of red.

“I can make my own decisions Hyung.” Yoongi forces his drink down his throat to prevent any laughter.

Jin deadpanned. “You can not you called me at 3am last night asking what version of the song sounded better!”

“So I care about work?” Yoongi retorted.

Jin threw his hands up. “THEY WERE THE SAME SONG!”

“THEY HAD DIFFERENT SPEEDS!”

“NO THEY DID NOT!” Jin silence the younger man by walking away, mumbling about how the youth were unthankful for him.

“Well… family dinner sometime next month.” You informed the laughing man in front of you.

He just nodded at you, still smiling to himself.

Jin and yoongi had their own thing with one another, it wasn’t something that was every outspoken but you could notice it, Jimin had too. You were always happy to see those moments between them where they both indulged themselves with their own wants even if it wasn’t as usual as some may think.

You noticed the smaller figure towards the back of the small crowd and you couldn’t help but feel yourself torn between waiting for her to approach you or running and hugging her in the way you’d been thinking about since last night.

She made the decision for you, walking towards you in small steps. “Cousin.”

“Aeri.”

A best of silence before you both threw your arms around one another, the familiarity breaking your resolve and forcing you to tears.

Her hands gripped into your coat, her voice broken. “I missed you.”

“I missed you more. I’m so sorry I didn’t know you were alone I had no idea I would have tried to find you.” You explained your apologies faster than your brain could comprehend them.

“Don’t apologise, I couldn’t find you either. We can make up for lost time another day but right now you have a man who is head over his chelsea boots in love with you. Turn around.” She pointed over your shoulder and you followed her direction.

He stood behind you on one knee, his members behind him, his parents beside him. You followed him as he called your name.

“Jimin.”

“You look so beautiful.”

“You’ll make me cry if you don’t stop.”

“I know I did this last night but it’s only right to do it here with the people we love as witness. I cannot promise that I will be perfect, I will make mistakes but I promise I will always do my best to be the husband that you deserve. I promise I will do my best to bring you happiness and security in the same way you have me. I knew I was going to ask you to marry me months ago, it was when you came to the hotel with yoongi Hyung, you wasn’t angry you were just worried for me. I receive a lot of love in a lot of different forms but none of that can ever amount to the way you make me feel or to the love you give me. I know you have already said yes but it is in this moment I promise to love you with my entire being, to prioritise you, to promise you a forever. I promise to give you a love story others can only dream of.”

“I said yes once I’ll say it over and over again. I will do everything I can to be the wife you deserve. To support you the way you support me, to understand you the way you do me, to give you courage when you lack, strength when you’re tired, hope when you’re low, I promise to laugh with you and cry beside you. I love you Park Jimin.”

You can’t help but cry as he pulls himself up directly to kiss you, everything else falling away as you relax into him, embracing this moment as one you’ll never forget. You pull away a few moments later remembering the guests of your impromptu engagement party.

“Thank you for being with me.” He places a final kiss to you hand before nudging you forward in from of Namjoon.

You look back at him confused but he just gives you a reassuring smile so you turn to the leader who himself hands you another small box, you were definitely going to need a bigger jewellery shelf.

“I know bangtan is 7 but we want to welcome you into our lives the way you have done us, you’ve never judges us or shown us any indifference. You’ve been the person we can come too and share our problems without fear or misguidance. You’ve not only taken care of Jimin but also us in our lowest moments. So we wanted to give you this.” You can’t speak clearly, too wracked with tears but you accept the box opening it before loosing your composure. You’re sure you look a mess but you can’t help it.

“I know you’ve had it rough with your own family so this will always be a reminder we are here, we are eight with you.”

The pendant is shaped in a simple 8, small diamonds encrusted around the edges.

You feel multiple arms come around you and you’re unsure who they belong to but you welcome the comfort, letting yourself cry out all the years of feeling unwanted and unloved.

“Thank you” it was all you could say but nothing more was needed.

The party went on with no disruptions, there was more food than any of you could have stomached along with a beautiful cake to top it off, the music thanks to Namjoon and a very overbearing Yoongi was perfect. You danced until your feet hurt.

You weren’t sure at which part of the ride home you fell asleep but the soft blankets of your bed welcomed you as he carried you in, Jimins scent filling your senses as you pushed yourself closer to him.

“I love you, thank you for today, it was perfect.”

“A perfect day for my perfect woman.”

“And a perfect husband.”

“Thank you for loving me.”

“Thank you for trusting me.”

219 notes · View notes

jasntodds · 1 year

Text

Caving In [2]

Pairing: Gar Logan x Fem!Powered!Reader, Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 7,611

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, angst, descriptions of bruises (no colors, just shape and tint), mentions of sleep deprivation and some paranoia, mentions of death, mentions of the joker being the joker, there’s a teen wolf reference, a mention of being held captive and tortured, fluff, a mention of food being withheld

Summary: ❝Tell me Atlas: What is heavier, The world or its people’s hearts?❞ You never expected your life to end up this way, turned upside down by an infamous Gotham villain. It’s been a living hell, every single day, until Dick Grayson brings you to Titans tower where you meet Gar Logan and Jason Todd.

A/N: Hey, look chapter two up on time!! Things pick up in chapter 3, I promise!! I am easily motivated to post more often when I get feedback 😂 The first few chapters take place between season 2 episode 1 and season 2 episode 2. You can add yourself the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!!

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

The next morning comes around and you’re taking the time you have alone to shower. It’s barely four in the morning so no one else is awake and you’re pretty grateful for that right now. Before going to bed the night before, Rachel stopped back by your room and offered you some clothes she thought would fit okay for the following day. So, you’re the only one awake and figured it'd be really nice to have a proper shower for once. But the shower isn't the relaxing thing you expected.

This is the first time you’ve seen yourself in a mirror since being put into a basement for several months. It's the first time you’ve seen yourself at all but this is also the first time you’re getting a look at how the tower is seeing you. Your right eye has a deep bruise. It looks a little swollen still even though you feel like you can see fine out of it. The cut on your lip is still open and the cut on your cheek is red. Bruises in the shapes of fingers are dark on your biceps, right over the scar on your right bicep. Another bruise in the shape of a shoe is on your back. The more you look the more bruises you find and you wince, finally understanding all of the sympathetic looks you’ve gotten. Not that they know about the bruises across your back and stomach but they saw your arms.

You thought it was so weird Dick wanted to help but seeing yourself in the mirror, you completely understand because if you saw yourself on the street right now, you'd be livid and force that person to come with you. Your head hangs and it's kind of like you understand and a feeling of maybe wanting to tell them what happened comes over you.

If you tell them, maybe the looks will stop because you’re healing and they'll know. It's just kind of an elephant in the room as much you want to avoid it in your head, it's there. And every single time they look at you, they're just going to want the full story. The looks won't stop until they know. And all you can do is sigh because it’s four in the morning and sleeping for an hour has you feeling a lot more feelings that you ever really liked. So, you swallow the lump your throat and go for the shower.

After the shower, you find yourself in the kitchen looking for food. You find some cereal, Cheerios, and otp for that. At this point, you’re not going to complain about whatever cereal you have. Once you have your bowl, you move into the living room and turn the TV on, sitting on the floor at the small coffee table like you used to do when you were a kid. You find Avatar: The Last Airbender on one of the many streaming services connected to the TV and call yourself content.

You eat in peace watching a childhood favorite of yours and it feels easy. You feel at ease here and it feels like it could almost feel like home if you put in a real effort to give it a chance. If you could find a way in yourself to really trust these strangers. It'll be hard but maybe it'll be worth it, early mornings alone in front of TV with some cereal.

By the time six rolls around, the lack of sleep and paranoia has started to catch up to you. This place feels safe but it also feels too good to be true. There’s a little humming in the back of your head, telling you not to trust anyone because anyone can say they’re one thing and be the opposite. You used to be so trusting of people, not naïve or anything like that, but trusting of people in general but now, it’s hard to imagine people just being nice to be nice. What if you fall asleep, really get some sleep, and they turn on you? What if they’re working with him? And he comes to take you back? Maybe you’ll get lucky and everyone will leave the tower so you can get some real peaceful sleep. You’ve gone longer without sleep, you’ll be fine. You’re always fine.

"Good morning." Dick's voice scares you while you’re stood sink washing your bowl.

"Fuck," You groan, turning to look at him. "Do you always sneak up on people?"

Dick chuckles softly. "Sorry, it's a habit, I guess." Dick didn’t think he had been all that quiet.

You roll your eyes before going back to cleaning your dish you used for cereal. You haven't had cereal since you were put into foster care. It wasn't the best cereal or anything, you’re a Trix person but it was a lot better than the chicken noodle soup you’re used to. It felt almost nostalgic and you got to just sit in the living area, watching old cartoons you used to love as a kid, in peace. Until now, with Dick awake anyway.

"Right." You say softly.

Dick watches you from the back as he stands at the kitchen island, taking notice in the coffee cup sitting on the counter behind you and the empty coffee pot off to the side. You seem jumpy, though that might just be you. This is a new place to you and after whatever you’ve been through, it's fair to be a little jumpy but it makes him wonder.

"Did you sleep last night?" He asks, walking over to the coffee pot to make himself a pot.

"'Course." You lie, not looking up from the dish that is definitely clean by now but it's something to do with your hands.

Dick uses the sink to fill up the pot, you glancing at him for just a second. "Hmm." He hums. "More than an hour?"

You pause and let out a sigh. How long has he been doing this? You weren't saying he's good at it but how does he just know shit?

"No." Your voice is filled of shame. "I-i-it's weird, being here."

"It's okay." Dick reassures you as he gets his coffee going. "I didn't sleep much when Bruce brought me home, either."

You start drying your bowl, turning to face him. "What's he like? I mean....was he nice to you? You're here so..."

Dick nods and then shrugs. "He tried his best."

"That's a cop-out for saying he sucked." You raise your brows, resting the bowl to the side before grabbing the spoon and drying it. No one with good parental figures just says they tried their best. But, since Dick is here taking in strays that need help, maybe the Bruce guy didn’t do a terrible job. Even if this whole thing is weird.

Dick chuckles. "It wasn't all bad." Dick leans against the counter, facing you as he waits for his coffee.

"Must be nice." You mutter, a sense of envy comes over you. But it just slipped out. Being jealous doesn’t make a situation better. "Sorry." You apologize.

"It's okay." Dick assures you. Dick knows he got lucky with Bruce even if Bruce wasn’t the best. Dick still got lucky. "Where ya from?" He asks, trying to change the subject a little bit but still find something out about you.

"Gotham." You roll your eyes. "Fit right in now with all the freaks Gotham breeds, huh?"

"You're not a freak." Dick says calmly.

"Mhm, sPeCiAl." You mock and then Dick catches the hit of a smirk on your face.

"You're a smartass, you know, that?"

You give him a cornered grin. "It's the only thing not damaged about me so far. Gotta hold onto it." You snicker to yourself. "What about you? San Fran?"

Dick shakes his head. "Gotham." Dick goes to grab his coffee that's finished brewing.

"Shut the fuck up." You scoff. Apparently, if people get to escape the hellscape of Gotham, they end up in San Francisco? Literally, across the country which, if you’re being honest, completely makes sense.

"Honest, so is Jason." Dick says, pouring his coffee into a mug.

"Gar?" You raise, wondering if everyone is just fleeing Gotham.

"Ohio."

"Rachel?"

"Michigan."

You hoped finding out where everyone was from would make more sense. Maybe Dick found a bunch of kids who needed to get the hell of out Gotham and brought them across the country? Something? But, finding out it’s just Jason, you’re back to this being weird.

“How did you end up with Gar and Rachel then?” You ask.

“I was detective in Detroit.” Dick explains. “That’s how Rachel found me and then we ended up in Ohio where she met Gar.”

“That somehow clears very little up but okay.” You nod your head. Why did he take Rachel to Ohio? And who the fuck leaves Gotham to go to Detroit? And how the hell did they end up here? Nothing makes sense but you’re just gonna let it go for now. "So, did you and Jason know each other then? Both from Gotham and ended up here, seems like under better circumstances than us."

Dick shakes his head, taking a sip from his mug. "No, we just...know the same guy."

You narrow your eyes at him, grabbing your own mug and taking a sip. Bruce. It sounds stupid to you because you’re just fishing for information now. But, Dick knows a Bruce from Gotham. Bruce Wayne lives in Gotham. Bruce Wayne adopted a Dick Grayson who, if rumor is right, became a detective. Jason can fight, assuming Dick can, too that's a bit weird. Gotham doesn't breed heroes usually.

"So....what? You both raised for Bruce Wayne or something?"

"What makes you think that?" Dick chuckles, wondering why you'd come to that conclusion.

"Your name is Dick and Bruce took in a kid named Dick Grayson like twenty years ago. Rumor was he left to become a detective or something." You state, taking another drink of your coffee. "Kind of public information."

"Yeah," Dick chuckles. "Yeah, Bruce Wayne took me in."

"Interesting." You hum, looking at your dark coffee.

You feel like you’re having a fever dream. You cannot possibly be talking to a fucking Robin. That doesn't make any sense and at this point, you’re completely convinced the sleep deprivation has kicked in. But you’ve done your share of research into Batman and Robin. It's always been this mystery. Who's behind the masks? You don't like mysteries and you could never figure out the motive behind them. Why start saving people if not to kill the real problems of Gotham? It's not like they were taking down petty thieves or something, they were dealing with real grade-A psychos. But, maybe Bruce Wayne makes sense. He has the money to pull it off.

"So...your thing is combat?" You question, silently fact-checking yourself.

"It is." Dick nods once.

"You're older than me...." You trail off and Dick watches you, waiting to see where exactly you’re going with this. He doesn't mind you figuring it out, but he does think it's interesting that you’re openly figuring it out in front of him. Maybe it'll help you trust him a little more.

There are tons of videos and pictures of Batman and Robin fighting the bad guys. One of your past times was watching the Robin-centric ones, something about him being a sidekick seemed odd. He always seemed to hold himself just fine and Batman didn't seem like he needed some sidekick. It was weird but you watched because you were curious who they were and how they could fight. But now you’re here with Dick Grayson who was raised by Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson is taking in kids with superpowers. And you always thought a new Robin came in at the end. Fighting style was different and there was a big height difference.

"Are you Robin and is Bruce Wayne Batman?" You ask, your voice is a little loud as if to not believe you’re asking that question.

Dick laughs. "You got me." Dick smiles at you. "I'm not Robin anymore, though."

"Jason, right? He took over?" You verify and if this were two years ago, you’d be freaking out. As much as you do not get the whole thing, it was still really cool to be in the same city as Robin and Batman. They’re actual heroes. But, this is now.

"He did." Dick nods, almost impressed you figured it out after less than a day of being at the tower. “How’d you figure it out? Was it that obvious?” He asks.

“No,” You let out a mix of a huff and a laugh. “It was more of a shot in the dark. You shoot enough times, you’re bound to hit something.”

“Alright.” Dick laughs softly. “Fair enough.”

"Cool." You say, pushing off of the counter you were leaning against, choosing to leave with this new information.

"That it?" Dick asks, amused by your reaction.

You pause with a shrug. "Yep." Your word is short and sharp as you go to walk away before stopping. Actually, it bothers you. At the end of the day, Dick Grayson, the original Robin is standing in front of you and it bothers you. It’s cool, of course because he was Robin but above everything, it doesn’t sit right. "Actually, I got a fucking question." You turn to face him.

"Okay." Dick gives you a questionable expression, not sure where the change of tone came from.

"Why didn't you guys just kill the fucking Joker?"

Dick looks down, almost as if he's ashamed of the answer. "We're heroes, we don't kill people."

"Right, okay," You suck in a breath, feeling the fire in your stomach boil and your hands growing warm. "So, as heroes, your response is to just keep letting that fucked up, psycho clown roam around Gotham and keep killing innocent people like some sort of sick Saw movie?" You snap, your voice raising with every word.

In some sick and vengeful way, after your mom was killed, you got it. In a way, you understood how people become villains. Not villains to the actual villains, but villains to the heroes because it is their job to protect those who cannot protect themselves. It is their job and allowing people like The Joker to just keep escaping and killing more and more and more people, that’s not heroism. It’s cowardly.

"It's not like that." Dick sighs, realizing this has backfired greatly. "We can't go around being the judge, jury, and executioner. It's a dangerous road you don't want to go down. Trust me."

"Right, except he didn't kill your parents, right?" You ask, feeling the water brim behind her eyes and then the feeling of hot coffee stings your hands, the mug melting with your grip. The rest of the mug slips from your hands, shattering on the floor.

"Hey," Dick puts his mug down quickly, rushing over to you.

"It's fine." You look at your hands, the glowing of green starts to fade. You walk over to the garbage, tossing the remainder of the mug into the trash. "I'll clean it up, sorry." You barely look at Dick as you grab paper towels, wetting them and ignoring the shaking of your hands.

You always thought you had a lot of control over it or that you would at least notice if you were using your powers but you didn’t. It’s shameful and embarrassing. It was an accident and accidents happen but the very idea of not being able to control your powers just because you’re mad is terrifying. What if you get mad at someone and use your powers and hurt them?

"It's okay." Dick takes them from you. "I got it. Are you okay?" There are no hints of anger across his face or in his voice. He just looks worried.

"Yeah, I'm fine." You shake your head, no burn or blood in sight, your hands no longer glowing. "It doesn't hurt."

"What happened?" Gar asks, strolling into the kitchen, seeing you and Dick look like you were in the middle of something serious, although you were kind of hard to ignore. It got a little loud at the end of your argument. That’s why Gar is walking in.

"Dropped a mug." You keep your stare on Dick, lying to Gar. You brush past Dick and then past Gar. You just wanna run away from it all. Sometimes, things are too much and you wanna run as fast as your legs will let you go.

"Y/n." Dick calls.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, okay?" You stop just long enough to look back at Dick. "Just let me know when we're leaving." You mutter before walking back down the hallway and to your room.

Gar watches you and then looks back to Dick. He doesn't have any idea what he walked into and now he just feels awkward but he feels bad for you. You seemed really upset and you sounded upset when you were yelling at Dick. He heard you asking Dick if the Joker killed his parents. Of course, Gar knows what happened from last night but hearing that kind of reaction doesn't sit quite right. They're all just a bunch of kids. Kids who don't deserve to be in pain.

"You okay, Dick?" Gar asks walking over to him as Dick cleans up the spilled coffee.

"Yeah, it's okay, Gar." Dick assures him.

Gar nods. "What happened?"

"It was accident." Dick says.

"I mean...I heard you guys. I wouldn't be surprised if you woke up Rachel and Jason, too."

"Shit." Dick sighs, standing back up. "It'll be alright, she's just going through a lot. Just give her some time." Dick gives Gar a soft smile before throwing the paper towels away and grabbing a few more.

Gar nods, looking to the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. Gar knows what it's like to be alone in grief. It's hard and scary. Even having someone to just sit with him would have been easier but he was just thrown into a manor with a bunch of older people who didn't get him. He was only even there because he could suddenly turn into a tiger. Maybe he should leave it alone but he can't. He just wants you to know it's going to be okay.

Gar grabs himself a bowl of cereal and makes a plant-based drink for the morning. He waits in the kitchen, slowly eating as Dick eats his own breakfast. Dick told him to leave you alone and he's not going to do that but he doesn't want Dick to know. He doesn't really like going against what an authority figure says, even though he does it anyway. It's more the getting caught that he doesn't like. But what else is he supposed to do?

After Dick leaves, Gar waits a few more minutes then hops off his chair and heads down the hallway. Dick went the opposite way so Gar walks with ease down the hall and to your room. The door is shut and he can hear the TV playing softly. He picks up his fist and knocks softly. He waits, shifting his weight from his toes to his heels, almost expecting you to either tell him to go away or open the door and slam it. But you don't.

"Hey." Gar gives you a kind smile as you open the door.

"H-hey?" You ask.

Gar sucks in a breath. "Are you okay?" He asks.

You deadpan. "I would be a hell of a lot better if I wasn't asked that again today." You snark, watching the disappointment in Gar's face. "I'm sorry. I--I-do you wanna come in?" You ask, opening the door fully and Gar nods, leaving the door open as he follows you to the couch you and Rachel sat on the night before. "I've got some issues with Robin and Batman." You admit as you sit down.

Gar looks a little too concerned for your liking so you talk. If you talk, maybe he won't be so concerned and a part of you wants to know if it's a you thing. Everyone always seem to love them both, Robin and Batman, and they can do no wrong, they even helped the GCPD. You have thought for a while that maybe your disdain isn't justified and maybe it's not. Maybe killing people, even people like the Joker is wrong but what else is there to do? Because Batman and Robin didn't do anything to fix Arkham. If they don't fix Arkham, what else is there to stop these people like the Joker who get out and they kill every single time without fail? It's like it's a sick little game. He's Jigsaw and Batman is the cop trying to find him, everyone else is stuck playing the Saw games.

Gar nods. "Because the Joker killed your parents?" Gar asks, pretending like he doesn't know anything. "I overheard."

You nod. "My mom. I-uh, I was...I was at the movies with a friend. I got the notification that Joker was out again...killing people....same place my mom was that night." Your chin wrinkles as you swallow the lump in your throat.

That moment, you knew. You called your mom a hundred times but there's a pit that forms in your stomach when you just know someone didn't make it. Someone you care for. It's not anxiety or being pessimistic, there is a pit that grows and you just know. You knew but you called and called and called. The phone rang and rang until it died. Gotham PD showed up on your friend's house the next day and told you. They wanted to take you and do the whole foster care situation right away but your friend's mom convinced them to give you a day with them first. You fled that night. The night your mom died was the last night you ever felt safe. It was the night you felt something that wasn't sad or angry. It was the last night you weren't haunted.

"I'm so sorry, Y/n." Gar's brows wrinkle, the knot in his stomach growing.

You nod, looking away from him as you try to breathe. "Had they just fucking killed him," Your voice breaks as you look back at Gar and you hate it because this is a weakness. You can't seem vulnerable, not around these people because the second you show your vulnerability, it's so much easy to be used and manipulated. But you can't help it. "She would be alive but they just....called Arkham good enough." You pause. "It's not fair." It’s a choked whine that leaves your throat.

You gasp as tears start to flow down your cheeks, the tears burning a few of the cuts on your cheek. Gar moves closer to you and he's hesitant at first because he doesn't know how you'll react but the only thing he knows how to maybe help is to hug you. So, he pulls you into him and wraps his arms around you tightly. You stiffen for a second and it stops you from crying. You haven't been hugged since the night your mom died. It's a weird feeling to have someone hug you but you'd be lying if it didn't feel comforting. And he's very warm and he smells like strawberries and that seems to be the most comforting.

Your favorite fruit is strawberries and every summer, you and your mom would make chocolate-covered strawberries. There isn't a time you can remember when you weren't completely stocked during the summer and it's something you cherish now. Gar smells like strawberries and that small little thing, is the most comforting thing in the world to you right now. So, you just cave into him, sobbing.

The thing about being held captive and tortured is that it's made you hard. Being captured and tortured changed a part of you. You were never so closed off and calloused, always a bit sarcastic and snarky but not like this. Being held stripped you away of the rawness of emotion. It's like it turned you into this fossilized version of yourself. Hard and cold exterior that would just turn to dust if opened up. You’re only a memory of the person you used to be, sitting here and crying to Gar is just the visual representation of who you were before the big bang. And it hurts, it is agonizing but something about the way he's just letting you cry into him feels cathartic. You’re not in that basement anymore. Your wrists are free. You are free. And you can show all of your emotions without fear of repercussions from it. You’re allowed to be scared and angry and sad and happy. You don't have to hide anymore.

"S-sorry." You pull away, wiping your eye and wincing at the pain from the bruising of your right eye.

"It's okay." Gar assures you, still having his arms around you loosely. "I, uh, I get it." He looks away for a second, pulling his arms back as if realizing he doesn't need to hug you anymore. "My parents died, too."

You watch the normally cheery boy, square his jar and go distant with his stare. "I'm sorry." You sniffle. "What happened?"

Gar sucks in a breath, sitting back against the back of the couch. "Same mysterious disease I had but they didn't make it."

You nod, matching his position and tugging the sleeves over your hands. That explains part of how he ended here. He really doesn’t have anyone, just like you. "I'm really sorry. That sucks."

Gar nods. "Yeah, but, uh, it's okay because I'm here and this is a family. It's not the same but," Gar tilts his head back and forth a few times, looking for the words. "It's really nice if you give it a chance. Dick isn't out to get you or any of us."

"I didn't mean what I said." You say honestly. "I mean, I want the Joker dead, he's a fucking piece of shit sad excuse of a human but...I mean just about Dick. He's been nice."

Gar offers you a side smile. "Yeah, he's a cool dude." Gar chuckles softly. “He kind of takes getting used to, too.” Gar jokes a little. Dick sometimes comes off as cold but Gar has kind of figured that’s just what being raised by Bruce gets you. Jason is like that, too and Gar doesn't think it’s a coincidence.

"Thank you." You give him a sad and small smile. "You're like...a really nice person."

Gar huffs with a chuckle, looking away from you and all he can think is that someone has to be nice around here. Dick is sometimes...well a dick. Jason is an asshole. Rachel sometimes can be a little bit of a bitch to Dick and Jason, usually deserved but a bitch nonetheless. He has to be the nice one even if he wanted to get nasty. That would just cause more tension and Gar doesn't like tension.

"Thanks." Gar sighs, looking around your room. "Are you gonna decorate today?" He asks looking back to you, changing the subject and hoping to make you feel better.

You shrug a shoulder. "I dunno. Not sure if Dick really wants to take me shopping after that." You laugh softly. "I don't know how I feel about it, anyway. Feels....really fucking weird."

"Yeah," Gar nods in agreement. "But he just wants you to have a space of your own, that's what he told Rachel and me when he took us in. He'll give you a spending limit."

"Is this Annie or something?" You quip.

Gar tilts his head back with a laugh. "Well, it's a hard 'nough life for us." Gar says with a smile.

You let out a genuine laugh and it makes Gar's face light up. Your laugh is bubbly and loud, almost booming. It's a bit contagious actually and it makes Gar have a little bit of a sigh of relief. If you’re laughing, there's hope for you, especially after that whole talk you just had. You’re funny.

"You're funny, ya know?" You ask once your laughter calms down.

"Oh..." Gar shifts his sheet, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. "You, uh, you think so?" He gains a cheesy and awkward smile making you giggle a little.

"Yeah! Of course, I do." You smile sweetly at him.

"Hey, do you wanna play Xbox?" Gar asks, enthusiasm in his voice. He likes talking to you and you seem like you’re doing better talking. Plus, video games are what Gar always uses to escape from all the shit, maybe it’ll help you.

"I have literally never played Xbox in my life." You blink at him before gaining a smirk.

"Excuse me?" Gar's eyes widen. How have you never played Xbox? He's certain it's the best gaming system to exist.

"Always a big fan of PlayStation." You laugh, finding his shocked expression funny. He does wear his emotions on his sleeve. "But...I guess I could make an exception for you." You give him a corned grin, watching him shift again. Something about certain things you say make him nervous and you kind of like the bubbles that form in your stomach when it happens.

"Okay, okay." Gar stands up quickly, gesturing for your to follow his lead. "I'll change your mind."

You do as he directs. "You have a lot of confidence." You pat his shoulder.

Gar's eyes narrow slightly. "I...can't tell if you're being serious."

You laugh once more. "Eh, half and half." You shrug a shoulder.

"Right." Gar nods, keeping his eyes narrow but there's a smile tugging at his lips. "Come on." He nods his head in the direction of the door, reaching for your hand. You take it without hesitation and he leads you to his room.

The day goes by, Dick looking for you, he finds you with Gar in his room a few hours later. You had left the door open so it wasn't too hard to find you. You were both yelling, very excitedly at the TV and when Dick found you, you were plopped in two chairs beside each other, a control in each hand. You both were laughing and Dick never would have known you were new to the tower by how comfortable you looked and it gave him some hope. There's some type of hope for you. No one is ever just some lost cause. Dick hated to break it up but Jason and Rachel were already waiting for Gar in the training room.

While the others trained, Dick and you went on your shopping run. Dick took you to a few stores to pick out a few outfits, pajamas, training clothes, and just a few things for your room. It was weird for you to just be out in the open, shopping as if you weren't just held captive the day before. But, something about Dick did feel safe. Maybe it was the fact he was Robin. He might have helped the Joker stay alive by simply not killing him, but he did put him away several times. And, now you have somewhere to run to if Jerry happens to show up.

But that's not all. It was just bizarre to have this stranger buy you things. You were never one that really liked accepting things from people like this. Presents, sure. Everyone likes presents but this just felt like charity and it took everything in you to refrain from snarky comments the whole time. But you did it and you had a good time. You got some take out and you got to actually have one of your favorite take out foods. Dick didn't ask about how much you lit up at the thought of it for lunch, he already had an idea why. He figured maybe it'd be better to leave all of that alone and just have a few hours to let you just be.

"So," Dick asks as he drives them back to the tower.

"So." You state, looking over at him. He just has this look like he wants to ask questions. "Okay." You sigh. "Ask the question you want and I will not give you a bullshit answer."

Dick chuckles. "Alright," He nods. "How much control do you have of your powers?"

You look ahead of them as your light turns red. "This much." You open the palms of your hands, the palms turning green. Then, you close them, the green fading. You do this a few times with ease, ending with spirit fingers, your hands glowing a neon green. "Why?"

Dick's brows are furrowed. "Just curious, how do you do that?" He pauses. "What about the mug this morning?"

"Control or the whole acid thing?" You shrug, looking in front of you. "And apparently, my mom and the Joker are major triggers, learn something new every day, I guess."

"Understandable. And both, I guess."

"Uh...control well. I was traumatized." You scoff. "Control is easy when you're in a life or death situation. I mean...like learning it. Don't have a fucking choice if you wanna live. The acid though, uh-huh." You shrug. "I think about it I guess and then it just happens."

You remember when you found out you could produce acid. You were mad at Jerry for injecting you and then getting mad at you for it. It was about seven months after living with him and at that point, you were just so sick and tired of it all. All you wanted was to rip Jerry’s throat out with your bare hands. And then, your hands starting glowing, acid leaking from your palms. It was a shock, for sure, but it was a bigger shock that Jerry didn’t realize the chemical burn on the floor was from you. He just thought he spilled something and hadn’t noticed it prior. You considered some kind of weird luck. From there, it was just making sure it never happened in front of him.

Dick hums to himself. "Think you could try and show Rachel how you control it?"

"Uh...sure?" You question him. "Isn't that like...your job, Bat Boy?"

"I don't have powers like you guys." Dick states, the light turning green. "Rachel's powers are just really strong and she's had a lot happen recently."

"I have heard." You sigh. "I mean...I can try." There's a sense of empowerment you feel with Dick asking for help with Rachel. He trusts you, at least a little bit which is kind of nice. "I-it's just...I-I melted a mug today. I don't have that much control, apparently."

He nods with understanding. "You have enough to help."

"Well, alright then. Does that mean I get to learn to fight?" You give him a hopeful smile.

"How are you feeling?"

"Great." You give him a thumbs-up even though he’s watching the road.

"Are you lying?"

"Yes, yes I am." You laugh softly. "Uh....my face is still pretty sore. Arms and legs still feel a bit weak...." Your eyes go distant as you stare in front of you, flashbacks of the torture clouding your vision and the endless cycle of either not being given food or given the bare minimum.

"You need to get better first." Dick states, his voice unwavering.

"Shouldn't I still be preparing though? Like...I don't know. Small stuff."

"Not yet."

You sigh but don't fight him. Jason owes you one for the bet. If Dick doesn't think you’re strong enough to at least learn something, you'll just ask him. He don't seem like one to follow the rules anyway. It’s just a precaution to protect yourself, just in case.

When you get back to the tower, Dick helps you bring your stuff to your room. It's not a lot by any means, just some clothes, a few vinyls, and some art for your walls. Dick leaves you to yourself and you look around your room, gaining a genuine, happy smile. This is your space to make yours so you get to work.

You dig out a Fall Out Boy vinyl from one of the bags and put it on the record player that was already in your room. You turn it up as loud as it will go, the sound of music feeling almost riveting. Another thing you’ve missed more than you actually realized and then you start getting your room together.

A few hours go by and your room is coming along. You’ve moved a few things around and got your posters hung up. It doesn't feel quite like home yet but Dick said if you stay, you can get more stuff to make it more yours later. So, this is a start and it fills your chest with a sense of warmth as you look around until there's a knock on your door. You turn the music down before opening the door and you’re met by Gar in a green pullover and black joggers.

Gar's eyes glance behind tiy and then back to you. "Hey, uh." He scratches the back of his neck. "We do movie night in the living room sometimes, did you wanna join? Rachel and Jason are in there now."

"Uh..." You stutter. They do movie nights? Is this really some found family shit? The way everyone talks about Jason you find it a little hard to believe he'd actually part-take in any group activity that didn't involve punching each other. But you don't have anything to lose. If you want to stay, that also involves effort from you and Gar will be there. "Sure." You give a soft smile before walking over to your bed and grabbing Gar's hoodie. "Thanks." You hand it back to him and he gives you a closed smile, raising the fabric to say you’re welcome.

"Anytime." Gar smiles, jerking his head towards the living room. "I'm gonna put this away, meet you in here?"

"Okay." You say with ease before turning on your heels, heading down the hallway and Gar can't help but watch you with a goofy smile.

You just have on black sweatpants and a pink hoodie but you look comfortable and you didn't look annoyed when you opened the door. That seems to be your general state of mind, annoyed. From what Gar has seen. Of course, you’ve loosened up when he's talked to you but you always looks very annoyed beforehand.

You walk into the living room seeing Rachel all the way to the left and Jason sitting all the way to the right, facing the fireplace. They truly could not be any more apart, eyes on the TV that's mounted above the fireplace and you find it a little comedic. They must really hate each other. So, you take a seat by Jason, mostly because you think it's funny to bug him and you could just tell sitting by him would irritate him. Plus, that leaves room for Gar to sit on the other side between you and Rachel.

"Can I fucking help you?" Jason snarks as he looks to you.

"What're we watching?" You ask, an innocent smile pulling at your lips.

"It's Jason's turn so probably something gory." Rachel remarks with wide eyes laced with annoyance.

Jason turns to face you, which moves him a little too close to you. His eyes look you up and down, just once before landing on your eyes. "Don't worry, if you get scared, I'll protect you."

Rachel nearly rolls her eyes into the back of her head with Jason's comment, fake gagging while you sit with your mouth slightly ajar, nose scrunched and forehead wrinkled. You sit somewhere between appalled and grossed out. This kid surely has never dated a single human. There's just no fucking way with the lines he pulls. But you shut your eyes for a second, choosing to not even play into that game. Instead, you’re gonna play your own.

"What movies were you thinking?" You ask, matching Jason's position, knee bent and flat on the couch, you facing him as your knees touch.

Jason gains a smirk in just the left corner of his mouth. "We could watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Hostel, or Saw IV."

His stare is directly at you and it's a taunt. But you find it funny, not even bothered by the distaste of his comment, in fact, he plays into your hand. He thinks you need protecting from a horror movie and that of all people here, you'd go to him? When Gar is right there?

"Texas is a classic, assuming you don't mean the shitty ass remake from 2003. Hostel's alright if you're into Eli Roth. Saw series has always been good gore. Never quite cross that line into torture porn." You smile at him, it's a sweet smile while you lean your elbow on the back of the couch and Rachel sits behind you completely entertained. All she can think is that they needed someone who can match Jason's energy.

Jason's face softens, just for a split second. Your response caught him off guard and he was so sure you'd be against watching any of those. He thought maybe he'd get a rise out of you for suggesting them or offering to protect you or maybe get something better than that out of it. But all he got was whatever that was. It was his turn and those were the three he was considering but Gar and Rachel don't really like the movies. He assumed you wouldn't either, especially if what they found on the computer the night before means what they think it means.

Gar comes in a few seconds later, seeing you and Jason facing each other in a way that almost seems like some weird face-off staring contest at this point. He glances at Rachel who shrugs but she has a smirk that's begging to be broken into a laugh. Just a tint of burning coats Gar's stomach as he sees the two of you and he knows what it is but he pushes it down. He shakes his head and walks up to you.

"Everything okay?" He asks, his voice cautious as he looks between the two of you before sitting on the opposite side of you.

"Fine," Jason mumbles, finally breaking the stare and sitting normally on the couch before grabbing the remote. "Saw it is."

"Ugh, why do you always pick gory movies, dude?" Gar groans, tilting his head back.

"Don't like gore?" You ask with a laugh.

"You do?!" Gar's head shoots back up, a grimace on his face. He doesn't mind it in older films, the effects weren't great then. But the newer ones tend to turn his stomach. Horror is great, but gore? Not Gar's favorite.

"Yeah, of course. They're fun." You shrug, switching to sit forward, pulling your legs up under you and Gar keeps the grimace on his face. "What?"

"He doesn't know why anyone wants to volunteer to watch gore." Rachel snickers.

"Because you can shut the movie off whenever you get too scared and the effects are cool." You shrug and it makes Gar give you a shy smile. "I can hold your hand if you want?" If you said it to Jason, it would have been sarcastic and rude but with Gar, it was a genuine and sincere offer.

Gar's cheeks burn with the offer and his stomach flips, unlike you and Rachel, he didn't find the offer a bit cringey or lame. Your smile is gentle and sweet like honey until you realize that you just pulled what Jason did and it seems you realize it the same time Jason does.

"Did you just take my fucking line?" Jason scoffs.

"No, yours was weird, mine was nice." You retort, internally kicking yourself for it.

"It's okay." Gar whisper, shifting in his seat a little. He was never really good about things that might be flirting or not flirting and just being nice. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." You smile softly at him, your heart sinking a little.

"Okay, turn on the movie." Rachel looks between the three of you, not sure what the hell is going on there and not even wanting to know.

Jason turns the movie on without any further argument. The four of you settle into your spots as the movie starts to play and despite the fact you’ve been at the tower for just over twenty-four hours now, you feeling pretty comfortable around them. The three of them make it easy. None of them feel threatening, even with two of them having powers. They don't feel "special" as Dick put it. All three of them just feel normal and normalcy is something you’ve craved for two years.

And then there's Gar who can't keep his eyes on the moving, partially because he finds the gore a bit nauseating but also because he can feel you glance at him every now and then. He can't tell if the glances are because he doesn't like the movie so maybe you’re checking on him which is a strange thought, that's kind of his job. Or maybe it's because he's sitting too close to you, he doesn't feel like he is. When Gar looks over, it looks like he's sitting just as far away as Jason is so maybe that isn't it. The one thing he does know is that he doesn't mind you glancing at him.

The lack of sleep for you, however, is definitely catching up to you. Your eyes are weighed down, heart rate is slowing down and you just feel like maybe you could rest your eyes for a few minutes. Saw IV isn't even one of your favorite Saw movies, you won't miss much. And the next thing Gar knows, your head falls onto his shoulder. He straightens his back quickly when it happens, catching him off guard but then he looks at you, asleep and he doesn't have the heart to wake you up. A caring small comes to Gar's lips as he looks back to the TV and he kind of likes your head on his shoulder. Maybe it means you trust him and after everything, he can only imagine what you’ve been through, that's kind of a big deal on day two.

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