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#when i first heard long lost the song i was like 'i know this song. what is this.'
goodbuckcharlie · 2 days
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https://www.tumblr.com/goodbuckcharlie/744970952822095872/forbidden-things-jeremy-swayman-summary-its
ahhh love it!! part two would so goood!!!!! especially with steph, austin and mitch seeing how in love the two are
Warming up | Jeremy Swayman
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Summary: Part two to Forbidden Things. Following up on their secret relationship no longer being secret, Steph, Auston, and Mitch start noticing how truly in love the two are
Warning: swearing, a little slut shaming (for like a second) and mention of blood/injury
Notes: I am glad people liked the last post :) I currently have a Cole Caufield x pro golfer story and a Luke Hughes social media Au both in the works but when I saw this comment I jumped back to this story. Let me know if you guys are interested in either one of those or idk maybe even a part two for my Nico story.
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Steph definitely was the first to see how much Jeremy loved Mackie. She realized it at the family dinner that Mitch invited Jer to. It wasn’t even anything special, just watching how Jeremy interacted with the family, she knew he was the one for Mackie.
“So when Maddie set us up on a blind date, she forgot to mention that Mackie was the Executive chef at the restaurant we were going to.” Jeremy was telling the family how his neighbor who just so happened to be Mackie’s best friend, set the two together, “So we were served cold food ,like it wasn’t super cold, but Mackie definitely wasn’t happy. She excused herself and then went to the back. I could hear her scream ‘I’m on a date with a hot ass guy and you guys can’t do your fucking jobs? What the fuck do I pay you guys for!’ She then came back and acted like the whole restaurant didn’t hear her screaming. Let’s just say, I was ready to propose in that second.”
“Okay you are being a bit dramatic,” Mackie corrects, “You only heard what I said cause we were sat by the kitchen. The whole restaurant didn’t hear me scream.”
“Babe, the hostess looked terrified and the poor girl was on the other side of the restaurant.” Everyone laughs as Mackie gives a little pout, “Aw no need to get all pouty, I thought it was extremely hot. Still do.”
Jeremy pokes Mackie’s neck until she starts laughing.
“You know Jeremy, Mackie had a few boyfriends in high school, and none of them were ever able to hand our girl’s temper.” Mrs. Marner says while holding her husband’s hand and smiling in endearment, “They often called her too bossy and one even told her that her ego was unlady like.”
“Yeah Mitch was not happy when he heard that.” Mackie looks across the table at Mitch, who has been eyeing Jeremy, observing him like a Hawk, “When I came home crying, Mitch drove to the guy’s house and fought him.”
“This guy in a fight? I couldn’t imagine that.” Jeremy laughs and Mackie is surprised to see Mitch also laughing.
“Don’t get to excited bud, I lost that fight.” Mackie and Steph can tell Mitch is still hesitant about Jeremy, but it was a good sign to see the boys laughing together. Well until Mitch notices something.
“What the hell is on your neck?” Through the long day, Mackie never reapplied her makeup on her neck, so the darkest hickey is now visible.
“Would you believe me if I told you it’s a burn mark from my curling iron?” Mitch gives Mackie the angry brother look and she automatically know that mean he doesn’t believe her. Luckily Steph came to the rescue.
“Oh Mitch calm down, you know we were doing that same thing when we were her age.” Steph manages to keep Mitch calm and civil for the rest of the dinner.
At the end of the night as everyone was leaving, the restaurant started to play one of Mackie’s favorite songs. She hides her excitement, but Jeremy notices.
“Dance with me pretty girl.” He holds his hand out.
“Jer we are at a restaurant, we shouldn’t.” Steph is the only who is noticing the interaction, but she can’t help but smile.
“Nobody is going to kick us out for dancing, plus who cares if they do, your restaurant is 10x better anyway.” Mackie takes his hand and they start swaying along to the music. Mackie giggles as Jeremy spins her around and they almost knock over a table. But they don’t care they are in their own world.
In this moment, Steph knew Mackie was right and that Jeremy was her one.
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Surprisingly Auston was the next to approve the relationship. And it was a total accident.
It was March, a whole month since All stars, and the Bruins were playing the maple leafs in Toronto.
Mackie had stayed at home in Boston. Jeremy was missing her during the roadie, but he knew after this game they would be at home for a while.
Auston was just walking around the backstage of the arena when he walked past Jeremy on the phone.
“Babe you know you don’t have to call me to get permission to go out with Maddie.” Jeremy says while smiling at his phone.
“Oh I know I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”
“You are going to be the death of me.” Auston can’t help but eavesdrop. “While I have you here, show me what you are wearing out.”
Auston at first thinks the worst and thought that Jeremy was trying to be controlling, but his worry soon went away.
“Damn baby, you look so good makes me want to bail on the game and fly back home to see you.” Auston fake gags at Jeremy making comments like that to the girl he considers as little sister. “Is that my jacket?”
“Yeah Maddie wouldn’t let me borrow one of hers so I went over to your place and grabbed a jacket.”Austin wasn’t surprised to hear that Mackie had a key to Jeremy’s place.
“I would have let her borrow a jacket if she actually wanted to wear a jacket, not because our old ass neighbor was being a bitch.” An unfamiliar voice that Austin assumes is Maddie comes out of the phone.
“Maddie you said you wouldn’t say anything.” Mackie whines.
“Wait you guys are talking about that cougar that’s been trying to get in my pants since I moved in?” Austin can feel Jeremy get upset even as he hides in the corner, “What did she say?”
“She said, and I quote, you shouldn’t be going out like that when you have a man at home. It makes you look desperate.” Maddie said cause she knew Mackie wouldn’t.
“Fuck her. Mackie you look amazing in anything. If you like how an outfit looks, nobody and I mean nobody shall tell you different. Now take off my jacket and go have fun with Maddie, I’ll be there in the morning to nurse that hang over. And after that I’ll go talk to our neighbor, I’m not letting her get away with disrespecting you.”
That was all Auston needed to hear. He walked away satisfied with the conversation. Before this conversation, Auston didn’t think Jeremy and Mackie’s relationship was serious. Now he knows not only are they serious, but he now had a newfound respect for Jeremy.
At the end of the game, the bruins won 4 to 1. After his shower, Auston set out on a mission to talk to Jeremy. Luckily he finds him as he is heading out of the visitors locker room.
“Hey Swayman.” Jeremy looks up from his phone is surprised to see Auston.
“Oh hey.” Jeremy is a little skeptical, but knowing how important Auston is you Mackie he doesn’t question it.
“So I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but earlier I heard your phone call with Mackie.” He totally meant to eavesdrop but he wouldn’t admit it. “You’re a good man Swayman. And it might take a little more for Mitch to see it, but you really do love Mackie. And I’m glad she has someone like you.”
“Thanks Auston. You mean a lot to Mackie, so your approval is very important to her. And what’s important to Mackie is important to me.” Auston extends his hand out for a hand shake but Jeremy being Jeremy pulls him into a quick hug. “Now I got a plane to catch so I can see my girl.”
“We just finished the game and your already talking about that girl?” Brad Marchand hit Sways back and teases him, “You’re such a simp.”
“I’m a proud simp for Mackie Marner .” Both Auston and Brad laughs as Jeremy rushes out so he can hurry back to his girl.
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Mitch by no means hated Jeremy and Mackie’s relationship, but the idea of his little sister dating anyone especially someone on the rival hockey team to his, didn’t sit right with him. But that was until, Jeremy did something that completely changed his perspective.
The maple leafs had just played the Bruins again this time in Boston. The leafs had decided to stay in Boston for a few days before leaving back to Toronto. So Mackie closed her restaurant for the day and decided to host both the leafs and the bruins for dinner. But a few things had gone wrong causing the girl stress.
It was the middle of the day so the staff had plenty of time to prepare everything. During this time, little things happened that all piled up causing Mackie to be on edge. Things such as some dropping knives or someone not following her instructions. She keeps her composure to the best of her abilities, since she doesn’t want to ruin the dinner.
Everyone started to arrive at 6:30 which was 30 minutes before the dinner started. Mackie doesn’t know because she is concentrating on the food. She is so concentrated that her staff even starts to worry about her.
“If you can’t chop it properly I’ll do it myself.” Mackie doesn’t mean to sound rude, but she doesn’t have time to apologize since her brain is currently running 100 miles per hours. She starts to cut veggies as fast as she can but because she is being careless, she cuts her finger. “Fuck, Eric please take over.”
She runs her hand under the sink hoping to stop the bleeding, but the cut was much deeper then she thought.
“Chef are you okay? you should probably get that checked out. It looks pretty deep.” Eric, one of the first chefs Mackie hired, finished chopping and check on Mackie. But as any girl can tell you, when you are trying not to cry and someone asks if you are okay or are you crying, you feel like you need to cry even more.
“it’s just a cut I’ll be fine.” She didn’t mean to raise her voice but her frustration caused her to do so. Jeremy who is talking to Mitch and Auston, hears Mackie and heads to the kitchen in concern not knowing that Mitch was right behind him.
When he entered the kitchen, everyone was working hard, but Mackie was no where in sight.
“After she yelled, she said sorry to me before she grabbed a cloth and ran off to her office.” Eric said standing next to the sink. “I can finish the dinner,but that cut of hers needs attention so could you try and get her out of the office.”
Jeremy quickly thanks Eric before heading to the office.
“Hey pretty girl, you wanna talk?” No response.
“Baby, we’ve talked about this you have to talk to me when you’re upset, we are a team.”
The door to the office opens and reveals a crying Mackie who is holding a bloody towel to her cut.
“I just wanted tonight to be perfect.” Jeremy pulls Mackie into a hug. “But before I got here Maddie and I got into a fight and I tried to ignore it to keep the night perfect, and then little things kept happening and now my stupid finger won’t stop bleeding.”
“Whatever you and Maddie are mad about I’m sure it’s nothing, you two are like sisters.” Jeremy sits Mackie down while looking at her cut. “And everyone out there loves you too, so no matter what you served us we would thinks it’s perfect.”
Mitch (just like Auston) listened in from outside the office to make sure his sister was okay but not to interfere in their moment. (Steph would be so proud)
“I know you are going to try and fight me on this but this cut is really deep. We should get you to a hospital.” Mackie shoots Jer a look of disapproval but before she can voice that disapproval, Jeremy stops her. “I will go get your brother and Auston, then we will carry you to the hospital.”
“Off the ice, I’m faster than all three of you.” Her confidence makes Jeremy smile in adoration.
“Seriously thought I’m no professional but how deep this looks I wouldn’t be surprised if you had nerve damage as well.” Jeremy has seen his fair share of hockey injuries as well has had to deal with his own so that is why this cut was so concerning.
“Could we go out the back door?” Mackie says through tears, “I don’t want Mitchy to see me cry.”
“Anything you want if that means you’ll go to the hospital.” Jeremy goes into Mackie’s purse and grabs a makeup wipe and hands it to her. “I know you’ll be upset if I let you go out with your mascara running so go ahead and wipe off your makeup as I go and tell everyone that you’re okay and where we are going.”
Mackie nods and Jer kisses her forehead before he leaves her office shutting the door behind him. He then sees Mitch.
“She’s alright.” Jeremy says not to relieve Mitch but almost as to relieve himself from his worry.
“I know she is, because she’s in good hands.”Jeremy is surprised when Mitch hugs him. It’s quick but still shocking, “She’s the most stubborn person I know, and that’s saying a lot because we are hockey players, but you are careful and collected with her. You are the one for her.”
Mitch tells Jer that he would handle telling everyone and to call him when the doctors know what’s wrong.
Despite the high stress of the situation, Jeremy couldn’t help but smile the whole time.
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hoseoksluna · 1 month
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BANANA MILK | jjk
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pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader
genre: smut, a tiny bit of angst
word count: 5.6k
summary: when a porn video accidentally plays on his tv, jungkook makes sure you watch.
playlist: banana milk / pinterest board: wine
warnings: forced and consensual porn watching, crotch grinding, dom/sub dynamics, plenty of desperation, praise and degradation, reader has daddy issues (like the writer,) oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, biting, pet names and a particular title used, handjob, plushie used during intercourse, spanking, raw sex, squirting, size kink, multiple orgasms, cockwarming
note: this can be read as a standalone, however it's a part two of my fic 'wine'. you guys asked for it and i delivered. <3 i wrote this entire fucking thing in a trace and on my phone, and i still don't understand how i managed to do that. even though i struggled in the beginning, i enjoyed writing this as soon as i got into it. there will be a part three as well—from jungkook's pov. so as you read, look forward to it next sunday. let me know what you think in the comments, don't be shy! mwah ᡣ𐭩
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Following the shapes of the sunlight on the parquet floors, your small feet are warm. The clicking of fingers on a sleek keyboard takes you, momentarily, into a hazy frame of mind. You feel as though you’re in a novel yourself, and the sound is a mere announcement that your steps, calculated in depth—thought through, plotted, and cared for—are counted by the man a few feet away from you, the writer, the long lost poet. Counted patiently throughout the rising action until they reach, at last, the climax.  The notion unfolds within you, unfurls little by little in a way that you like, for it makes you feel exceptionally alive and poetic. It casts a languorous smile upon your shimmery face. Perhaps it’s due to the double meaning because you’re here for a reason. Or perhaps you owe that smile to the easy joy blooming in your chest, one that was sown hardly an hour ago.
You were in a bookstore, skimming through a paperback that enveloped you in blue dreaminess. The language you had the honor to graze with the pad of your finger was flowery in a way that stirred something within you—something that is noticeably sprouting to life. The furniture of the room was dark and antique under the yellow dimmed light, very much like the one you have at home. It was so you, a true personification of your whole being that made it quite difficult to leave, even though you had something to look forward to.
You were convinced it was your home.
A home that you came around to for the first time in your life—how strange.
You bought the book. It had to be yours, and you had to have a keepsake, a direct link to your hideaway. You set it by the wall next to your shoes and your purse with a pink photocard holder, pulling out a certain bottle of happiness that you brought along for your friend.
The sunlight strips take you straight to him, your feet—kissed by the sun—padding softly on the floor; the third step of the rising action. Jungkook sits slumped on his coffee brown couch with his laptop propped on his lap. His shoulders, clad in a denim sweatshirt, hunch in ever persistent concentration, a Word document opened and being swiftly filled with Hangul. Persistent enough that he doesn’t twist his head to greet you. He knows you’re there. Heard the sweet sing-song beep of his passcode being accepted, letting you in into his solitary life. Knows you didn’t forget it this time because he didn’t have to stand to his feet to open the door for you as he so often did in the past.
You wrap your arms around his neck from the back, tits squished against the nape from the low neckline you chose to wear for the day. It shreds his concentration to smithereens; you feel him inhale raggedly through his nose, fingers coming to a halt on the keyboard. You press your lips against his scarred cheek, not as plump as they usually are because they are still pulled taut into a smile, and whisper, “hi, Ggukie.”
He turns his head to face you from the side.
“Hi,” he breathes. There are peachy specks of glitter scattered all over your eyelids and you watch him study them, round eyes flicking between each one of them as if he can’t get enough of them—as if there are more for him to greet the more he looks.
And he’s right. There are.
His tender mien causes your heart to clench, overflow with a continual stream of endearment for him. You notice the mark of your guileless kiss on the apple of his cheek, the lip gloss pink and glimmering. Decide to leave it there. Decide it suits him well.
“Close your eyes,” he says, and you do.
He drifts the pad of his thumb along that delicate skin. Not to disturb the artwork, no. But to acquaint himself further with it. It’s been a long time since you wore glitter. It’s been equally as long since you were this happy—he senses it, the little iridescent stars tell him somehow. There’s so much of it that when he lifts the digit, the eye makeup stays intact, as if he hadn’t touched it at all. Jungkook flicks his eyes to the craftwork of his stained fingertip, the glitter, the stars nuzzling homely within the lines. Smiles as he mumbles, “pretty.”
You kiss him airily as a thank you. No hands, not anything. Just your lips puckering from the little distance between the pair of you. You retrieve the bottle of happiness from your back pocket and hold it against his hard chest.
Confusingly, with lips rounded, Jungkook looks down and gasps.
Banana milk.
“Come here.”
He hauls you down onto his lap like you weigh nothing, his laptop pushed away to the cold side of the couch. You squeal, pulling your hair as you lay against them and try to find a better position, discomfort painting your features in a way that makes Jungkook scrunch his nose adorably. He lifts your neck and gathers your hair, smoothing it down on the leather. You look up at him. The stars have migrated to your glossy eyes.
“Where’s yours?” he asks, hand placed on the crown of your head, the other clutching the chunky bottle protectively like a child.
“I already drank mine.”
Jungkook pierces the paper lid with the slim straw and takes a sip. Lowers it until it pokes you in the line of your lips. Nods at you, encouraging you to drink.
Your heart clenches again, and the thoughtful gesture makes it swell. It suddenly feels like your chest is very tight, like there’s no space for your organs. You massage the feeling away, wrapping your lips around the plastic, taking a few sips. No hands, not anything.
“You’re a sweet boy,” you whisper, a dollop of the creamy liquid adorning the oily pinkness of your lips.
A bright blush creeps along his cheeks, settling along the bridge of his nose as it ever so often does. Gazes down at you, then at your lips. Scrunches his nose again as he shakes his head, bending to peck you delicately, tongue swiping across your bottom lip, cleaning you up. His habit at this point.
“I’m a man.”
Your face grows hot. The imprint of your lip gloss stained his mouth and it worsens your state, deepens your dreaminess. You’re leaving small parts of your being as marks on him. You find that beautiful, in all its simplicity.
“Sweet and pretty,” you add in a hushed whisper, more to yourself than him.
Twinkles, akin to your glitter, flood his eyes and they deepen in thought. He doesn’t say anything for a moment and when he drifts the palm of his hand down your throat, curling around your collarbones, you realize he’s having flashbacks. 
Wine. Neck. Tongue.
The cause and effect on your panties in mere seconds. 
Your helplessness. The way you apologized for coming because you weren’t allowed. 
Jungkook smirks and so do you. Lets his palm roam down to your tits, discovers only with the lift of his finger that you’re wearing a lacy blue bralette under your top. 
“So easy to pull to the side,” he comments, more to himself than you. Doesn’t look at you when he begins to fondle them, transfixed by their fullness. 
“That was my—”
“How was your day?” he cuts in, a breathy concoction of a hiss and a moan escaping his mouth once he feels your nipples stiffen under his hand. Index and thumb come and squeeze at that nub, coaxing a hum out of you. 
Your brain degrades slowly but surely, metamorphosing into mush. You struggle with your memory, abruptly unable to remember where you were and what you did before you were half spread across his lap.
“Good,” you try. “Fantastic, actually.” 
Jungkook smiles. Pinches your nipple again, fingers pressing flat and moving up and down. You moan out for him, writhing in a newly, softly burning desire.
“Really?” 
“Yeah, went to the bookstore.” 
Did you? 
“Bought anything?” 
His hand drifts back to your neck, never losing skin-to-skin contact, wraps around the column, then goes back down to your tit. This time, to your neglected one. Gives it the same attention. 
You don’t remember if you bought anything.
Zoning out, you focus on the pleasure, fluttering your eyes closed. Figure this is just a meaningless talk that doesn’t require truthful answers or any for that matter. You widen your legs, calling out for his touch there. This is what you came here for. He doesn’t need to know about the itty-bitty parts of your soul.
Jungkook grabs your arm and pulls you up, guiding you to straddle him. You poke the banana milk, propped against the backrest, with your knee. Despite your now lustful haze, you’re careful not to knock it over. 
A billow of the whole night lines his eyelashes, arousal blanketing his irises. You run your hand through his hair—can’t help yourself, you’re just obeying your body’s intimate wishes—and tip his head back, his soft strands sifting through your fingers. You draw near to his slightly parted mouth as if to kiss him, but you’re here just to tease him, to make him want more just like he did to you, hovering your lips above his. His slowly quickening inhales add much to your wooziness and you go to hide in the crook of his neck, but he stops you dead in your tracks when he says, “you came here to get fucked, didn’t you?” 
Your laughter is but a breath. “How did you know?”
You kiss him there, incorporating your tongue, sucking the sensitive skin for a mere beat of time. And just like him, you discover why he likes kissing your neck as much as he does.
A film of goosebumps shrouds the small portion of the exposed skin of his chest that you’re allowed to see. Jungkook moans lowly, gripping your ass and pulling you closer to his semi-hard crotch, sinking lower into the cushion. Eager hands hook under the hem of your top and fling it out of you, latching onto the back of your neck and drawing you to his face. 
He doesn’t kiss you.
He begins to talk.
“I waited for you all fucking day,” he murmurs against your lips, sucking in a breath of air as if there wasn’t enough in his lungs, as if voicing out his desire exerted his energy. 
“All I could think about were those fucking tits,” he confesses. “Those hips of yours, so small in my hands. That pussy, fuck. I wanna eat it,” he groans, furrowing his eyebrows. “God, I wanna eat it.” 
You nod to each and every word of his, grinding your pelvis against his, mewling into his mouth. 
“You understand what I’m saying to you, don’t you?”
You nod again, your body begging you to be allowed to arch your back, but the grip Jungkook has on your neck prevents it from happening. The fire of desire burns bright, made bigger and blue by his spluttering sparks.
“‘Course you do, you’re my good little girl, aren’t you? Smart and educated,” he praises and your walls clench. “Let me eat your little pussy.” 
“Please,” is all you manage to utter before he holds you steady by the waist and lays you down on the couch. 
Your shoulder blade hits the remote control and a sudden echo of a girl’s moan booms through the room. Both of your heads swing to the TV to see a girl humping her teddy bear, barren down to her full femininity except for her panties. She plays with her nipples, pulling on them while flicking her hair back, hips rapidly moving back and forth on the nose of her big fluffy friend. Mesmerized and completely sobered up from your drunkenness, your clit gains a heartbeat, your teeth sinking into the bottom of your lip.
Jungkook hastily rummages around you to find the remote. You stop him. 
“Leave it on.”
He blinks at you, mouth agape. You smile at him, thumb brushing along his knuckles as you take the remote from him and place it on the coffee table. The gesture smooths down the wrinkle between his brows. His blush deepens, the color of roses stunning you. 
Undoing your jeans, he pulls down your zipper. “You want me to eat you out while you watch porn?”
You nod. “Yes, sir.” 
Jungkook sighs, sagging your pants down to the middle of your thighs. “Don’t call me sir or I’ll fuck you in the ass right here, right now.”
“Hurry, she’s almost done.” 
He spanks you harshly and you squirm, quickly reminded of his need to be in control, but he listens to your need. Rewinds the video back. Slaps the remote back down onto the wood of the coffee table, which makes you burst into giggles and Jungkook smirks, folding you in half, dragging your panties to your jeans pooling above your knees. The center sticks to your core, causing him to growl, hand coming to wipe at the corners. The girl hops on the teddy bear. Moans fill your ears. 
He kisses your clit. Pinches the back of his sweatshirt and hurls it at your head, obscuring your view. You huff in frustration, throwing it back at him, but he catches it. Your breath hitches in your throat.
“You should focus.”
“You going all in for me?” you ask, speaking of his nakedness. 
Clothes come off on the verge of his climax, never before it; it’s so unlikely of him to discard himself so quickly. He usually keeps at least one item of clothing on, too hasty—too hungry to bother, until he can’t take the heat anymore.
“For you always.”
He dives into your pussy, tongue licking against your folds, nose pressed against your mound, inhaling you. Going up and down, he drinks you. Moans at the taste, eyes lidded and drunk as he stares at you through the little opening of your barely parted legs. You wish to spread them wider, the pleasure forces you to, but you can’t—the tight fabric won’t grant you the satisfaction. 
“Take it off of me,” you whine.
He comes up for air. “No.”
You whine louder, fingers grasping at the waistband. Jungkook grabs your hands and pins them down to the cushion, thumbs resting in the middle of your palms. He doesn’t let a drop of you go to waste, sheathes his tongue into your warmth as he fucks you, nose rubbing against your engorged clit. You tip your head back, lose a sight of him for a moment, digits naturally wrapping around his thumbs like a baby. A litany of curse words, broken by your moans that sync to the girl’s sounds of pleasure, fall from your mouth. You don’t even look at her, too busy—too distracted by the man below you, by the way his open mouth works against you, his dimples hollowing into straight lines, so akin to the sunlight strips that led you to him, as he flicks his tongue against your clit. 
You brush your fingers through his hair again, hold it at the roots through the small hole between your thighs. It provokes him enough that he looks up at you and finds you staring back at him. He growls against your cunt, a warning, the vibrations sending you back. Your eyes roll into your head and your hips follow, grinding into his glistening face. 
Jungkook hums. Sticks around to see if you’re watching the porn, slowing down the pace of his flicks. 
You’re not. 
Coming down from that wave, your eyes set back down on him. 
Jungkook peels his mouth off of you. Bends over you and grips your neck, pushing you down. The other hand spreads your slick all over your cunt, gliding back and forth. No pressure, not anything. Hearing your squelching noises, he mimics you. Also rolls his eyes back. Awakens the butterflies in your tummy. 
“Focus,” he hisses. 
You mewl. Ride his fingers to at least feel something, but you achieve nothing of the like. 
He spanks your pussy, another warning. 
You don’t listen. Can’t take your eyes off of him. Of the disheveled mess on top of his head, the sweat that pools at his hairline, the disarrange of his thick eyelashes from having his lids closed against your skin, the sheen of his nose, the wet puffiness of his lips, the kiss mark on his cheek. You take a deep breath. 
It’s impossible to focus on someone else other than him. Especially when he licks his lips, the tip of his tongue sailing around the arc of his lips—the arc of your character development. Swallows the dewiness he called out like teacher to pupil. 
You were a virgin when you met him. It was him who taught your body to get messy for him like this. His tongue that tasted your girlishness first. All your first times were with him and continue to be under his ever strict but safe supervision. 
Under his custody in a way. You do call him Daddy after all. 
“I missed your cuntie so much,” he husks, tightening his grip a tiny bit to emphasize the importance of his words. “But I can’t eat it if you don’t watch.” 
His index finger turns your head to the side and his other hand travels down to your wet heat. The girl clutches her friend’s fur in her fist and fucks him slowly. With each roll of her hips upwards, you can see the shine of her slick adorning her folds. Jungkook sinks two digits inside. Can barely fit them in due to the way you clench around him. You fight his hold against your cheek, needing to look at him. 
“Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” he whispers. “My horny little baby.” 
He keeps them there, at the beginning of your hole, pumping sluggishly. Doesn’t look at the girl. Didn’t do so ever since the video started playing. His eyes only drink in your reactions, the twist of your features, the little sounds and breaths that break out of your mouth, gracing his ears, making his cock hard. 
It disturbs something within you. Stirs it to life. Kindles it radiantly, adjoining it to the fire of your desire. You know what it is, but you can’t bring yourself to accept it. It’s a feigned reality, one of a novel. Not the one that could ever be applied to your life, burst at the seam, engulf the radius until it absorbs you. 
You’re not that lucky. You’re not lucky to have him in that way. 
You’re lucky enough to have him physically connected to you once a week. 
But emotionally? 
Tears prick your waterline. 
“I want your tongue on my clit,” you croak out, reckon it’s better that you listen to him, watch the girl make herself come, follow her footsteps and go home. 
Distance is safe. Distance heals everything, particularly emotional attachments. 
Jungkook ceases his slow movement. Lowers your legs down so they repose across his thighs. Strokes the tremble of your muscles, removing your jeans and your underwear. Keeps that dangly fabric hanging off of the edge of the coffee table. Caresses your face as he says, “Daddy wants that, too. So bad. But you gotta be my good little girl and watch it. Then Daddy will play with your little clit.” 
“Okay.” 
He settles back into his position between your legs, enfolds your thighs around his shoulders. Placing a tiny kiss on your pussy lips, the soft fleshiness of your thigh steals his attention. He begins to plant big, wet kisses there. Alternates between nibbles and those kisses, mumbling something under his breath that you can’t make out. 
The girl’s furry friend is drenched in her wetness. You buckle your hips with need. 
“I want to hear your apology,” he orders, lips pressed against your skin. 
You look at him and mewl. 
“Eyes on the TV.” 
He bites you. 
You hiss in pain. “I’m sorry.” 
He kisses the pain he caused. “What for?” 
“For watching you,” you whisper, a lump forms in your throat and is softened by the look of endearment he gives you. Doesn’t reprimand you for keeping your eyes on him. 
He latches onto the voluptuous part between your hip and thigh, marks you there. “And why did you watch me?” 
You bite your lip to cage the words you really want to say behind your teeth, but some of them slip out. “Because you’re beautiful. Too distracting.” Because you look at me, and not at her. 
Jungkook hums. Kitten licks your clit to reward you, lips wrapping around the bundle to suck it. Makes a sound of satisfaction, eyes closing to drown in the feeling. Lets go with a pop. Does it again. Suck. Pop. Suck. Pop.
You moan. Near to the last step of your rising action. One more and you’ll reach your climax. You keep your eyes peeled on the girl, her screams guiding you to that sweet release. 
“My good little girl. Making me weak. Making me drunk,” he mutters against your pussy, blowing cool air against your dewiness; you shiver and he laughs softly. “Come for me, baby. Please.” 
He sucks your clit again, but manages the pressure. Makes sure it’s light, so you enjoy it as much as he does. 
“Keep watching it. You’re doing such a good job. Keep those pretty eyes on the TV.” 
A new texture rubbing against your pussy surprises you and a moany gasp escapes you. You look down to find his dear Hello Kitty plushie in his hand and the different, rough sensation tears the rope in your belly. 
“That’s it. Ride her. Fuck yeah. Make a mess on her for me. Good, good girl.”  
You gush out, your orgasm taking over your body. Trembling, squirming, you thrash your hands in search of something stable that would help you ground yourself. Jungkook doesn’t slow down his movement but he finds your hand, finds the other one too, and pins them above your head. Bends over you and watches you closely, watches those waves surging through your body until they still. 
He kisses you, then. 
“Such a good girl for me. Well done.” 
You struggle to catch your breath. 
And there’s no oxygen left in your lungs when Jungkook begins to rock his hips against his plushie, the button of her nose pressing deliciously against your sensitive bundle. Your moans come out in staccatos, dry and breathless. Little squeaks of pleasure that make him crazy. Eyebrows furrowed, stare dark and fixed. 
“Fuck, Jungkook. Oh, fuck.” 
He laughs and you expect to be degraded, having realized that both of you forgot, for the first time in months, to do so, but he rams into her and nudges his nose against yours. Dimples prominent, mouth stretched into a grin. A sight to die for. 
“I could come like this, baby. But I want to feel you. Need your little pussy around me. Might go crazy if I don’t fuck you,” he says hastily, chucking the plushie away. “They might lock me up.” 
You might have wanted to go home, but who are you to deny him when he’s this desperate for you. 
Butterflies swarm in your belly. And you laugh. 
“Fuck me, baby. Come on,” you say, the pet name on your tongue scorching your whole body. 
Jungkook hums, palms his hardness as the outline of his cock makes you salivate. While you reach for Hello Kitty to hug her because you need something solid to hold onto, he pulls out his heavy length out of his sweatpants. Wanting him naked, your fingers push down the material and you uncover that he’s not wearing any underwear.
You curse under your breath, your pussy drooling for you. 
His member slaps against his stomach and you hiss, your saliva collecting in your mouth at the sight. He grips himself, throws his head back. You focus on his red tip, on the evidence of his arousal agleam in the sudden shadows of the room. The video stopped playing; silence replaced it instead. You care very little for it, entranced by his manhood, by his defined abdomen, the hardness and roundness of his pecs and the small, singular mole right underneath. You find yourself longing to kiss it, swipe your tongue against it and you fulfill your body’s wishes.  
You get on your knees. Hello Kitty falls in the middle of them. Jungkook curiously watches what you’re doing and when you do what you longed to do, he moans softly. 
“Princess,” he sighs, moans again when you brush your fingertips against his nipple. “You make me feel so good.” 
“Yeah?” you question, looking up at him, fingers tweaking his nipple and he vocally shows you how much he likes that. 
His sounds of pleasure, the variety of pet names and praise makes you feel woozy all over again. Your pussy dampens the plush fabric, adding to the mess. 
“Feel how hard you made me,” he whispers, guides your hand to his length, wrapping your fingers around his girth; you show him, too, how much you like that. “Spit on it.” 
You don’t have to be told twice. 
Spreading your liquid love all over him, you grip him tight beneath the mushroom to coax that delicious hiss you love hearing. You begin to move your hand from there, sliding his foreskin up and down. His groans are a panoply of pure beauty that you wish to own forever. You wish you could freeze time right now. Deem this is as close to paradise as you could ever get. 
This is where you want to be, for all eternity. 
You lick over his nipple and Jungkook sobs. Sounds just like you when he plays with you and it makes you sob just the same. You hold it in, though, think this is a time reserved for him only. Concentrate on flicking the nub to make him feel good, squeezing his tip. He deserves it. 
“I’m gonna turn myself in,” Jungkook whines. “It’s your fault.” He kisses the top of your head. “You made me crazy.” 
You laugh, quickening the pace of your hand that soon slows down when he sultrily orders, “hump her for me.” 
“Fuck,” you let out, eyes wide and round as you look up at him. “You want me to ride her?” 
A rumble of agreement passes through his lips. “Make Daddy proud.” 
You withdraw but Jungkook clicks his tongue. 
“Keep your hand where it belongs.” 
Your jaw falls open. 
He guides you back where he wants you, meanwhile you rearrange the plushie and sit down on her nose, cringing at the cold wetness you left there. 
You rock your hips once. The dull pleasure numbs your senses, electrifies your body. Before you’re even aware of it, you hump her like your life depends on it. Your hair lifts and falls around you gracefully in spite of your pace, little strays sticking to your flushed face.
“Slow down, fuck,” Jungkook groans, placing his hands on your shoulders and wrist to stop you. “Slow, baby. Can you do that for me?” 
You listen, even though it’s evident you don’t like it. 
He chuckles. “Good job,” he praises. “Fix your face.” 
You smile up at him, cracking into a gentle laughter. Out of breath, out of your mind. 
“That’s it.” 
He kisses your forehead. Reaches behind him and grabs the banana milk. Points the straw at your lips. You gulp it down loudly. Jungkook fixes your hair in the meantime. 
Sitting down, he hauls you onto his lap. Your back presses against his chest, the tip of his shaft aiming at the middle of your belly. It scares you, how deep he can go and you turn your head to look at him with wide eyes.
He squeezes your tits, pulls the fabric to the side. Pinches both of your nipples at the same time before he kneads the flesh. Your roll your hips against his manhood, leaning your head back against his shoulder. 
“You’re just too small, aren’t you?” he whispers against your cheek. 
You meow a soft sound that confirms his words. 
“Won’t even fit in you. Need to stretch out you for me,” he says, hands traveling down your stomach. “Can you even take two fingers?”
There it is, the degradation. But it’s so tender that you can’t even believe your own ears. You mewl again, finding it so hot that he talks to you like this, knowing you took three of his fingers the last time he touched you. 
“I can,” you say and there’s allure to your words, your pussy grinding against him. 
He hums. Maneuvers you a little so his cock sits against your ass. Plays with your slick just to hear the filthy sound before he plunges two of his fingers inside of you. He curls them and is brutal as he pistons into you in fast jerks, the muscles in his biceps bulging. With his free hand, he makes sure you gaze at him and he nudges his nose with yours. His short breaths fan against your cupid’s bow and in return, you feed him your moans. He swallows each and every one, his pace never faltering, his eyes never leaving yours. 
Your stream of pleasure shoots out onto the coffee table and Jungkook would miss it if his reflexes didn’t act out for him. He groans, strumming his fingers against your clit to prolong your orgasm, lifting you to ram his hard length into you. 
You welcome him embarrassingly fast, smothering him until he’s fully sheathed inside you. Because he entered you mid climax, it triggers another one and you scream, thrash your body that he encages with his arms around you, one hand flying to your neck to keep you down. He presses his lips against your temple, lulls you with gentle sounds. Mutters apologetic words, words of encouragement, praise and reassurement. All while ramming his cock into you. 
You’re forgetting the day and time. Hell, you’re forgetting your own age and name. All you know is dick. 
His dick splitting you open as your head knocks back and forth. 
He squishes your cheeks, pressing a kiss there, and it brings you back. You open your eyes, blink a few times. Yelp as he fucks you deeply and holds. 
“You’re taking me so well,” Jungkook husks. “You always squirt for me, don’t you?” 
You nod, dumbly. He plunges his fingers into your mouth to gather your saliva and takes them down to your clit. He rubs it, and he rubs it in fast circles. His other hand finds the soiled plushie and he crams her into your arms. You cuddle her, needing the comfort. 
“If I had a vibrator, I’d keep it right here on your little clit the whole time and break you fucking apart.” 
You clench around him, signaling him how much you like the idea.
“I know you’d like that. The thought of it won’t let me sleep. Might have to get it for you after all.”
Your surroundings are foggy. Another surge of orgasm reaches for you to get you. Your whole body shakes. You hug the plushie tighter. 
You prop your feet on his muscular thighs and weakly, you snap your hips down on him, setting a steady pace that makes you see stars. 
Jungkook ceases your movement. Grabs your waist tightly. 
“Stop or I’ll come.” 
You fight against him, pushing down on him. He lets you. 
“You want Daddy to come for you?” 
“Yes, please, I’m so close,” you squeak. 
“Hold onto her then.”
He meets your thrust, groans at the impact, at the teamwork. Has a deathly grip on you and Hello Kitty that bruises you, stills you as he ruts into you, his balls slapping against your sensitive, abused femininity. You’re losing everything; you’re losing yourself in him, in his manhood, in his desire and pleasure. Submitting all that you are to him, willingly giving over all that you have left of your being. Knowing it will be safe, knowing you will be taken care of. 
And with that you come, and you come hard. You coax his orgasm, beckon it out with the one final clench of your pussy around him. You milk him dry, stars clouding your vision and the warmth of his hot spurts of cum filling you to the brim. Jungkook whines. 
He loses it completely. 
Babbling sets of incoherent words against your cheek, he kisses you there, drags his kisses down to your jaw and your neck, squeezing you and Hello Kitty in his arms as his cock stays sheathed inside of you. 
Two things you do make out when you come down. 
A string of pet names directed to you. A bunch of ‘baby’, ‘princess’, ‘little girl’, all held close by the prefix of ‘my’. Held as close as he holds you. 
And something else entirely.  
“I love being inside of you. Whether it’s with my fingers or my dick. I don’t care. I just love being inside of you. You feel like home.” 
He strokes your hair, over and over, from the side like that. From the crown of your head, past the curve, down the side of your neck. All while kissing your skin. Tiny little kisses that soothe you, lull you into tranquility, prove you utterly wrong. 
But you’re still delirious from your high. You don’t realize what he said. 
You don’t realize that your home isn’t within the walls of that bookstore but within the arms of the man that holds you. 
And you don’t realize that he feels the same way.
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© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.
BACK to masterlist / read part one, read part three
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Okay this one's been stuck in my head all day but I have absolutely time to write it so please share this vision with me
Try as they might, Steve and Robin couldn't get tickets to Chrissy Cunningham's arena tour, but they could get tickets to a festival she was playing.
The last thing Steve ever wanted to do was go and stand in a muddy field for sixteen hours while they waited for the headline act. But he was pretty sure Robin was in love with her favourite musician, and he wasn't about to deny his best friend a chance at love.
So he helped her make personalised t-shirts because honestly all the other bands in the line-up kinda sounded like they sucked.
His read, "Only Here for Chrissy" on the front and "I'm Steve" on the back and Robin's read "Chrissy, Will You Be My Girlfriend?" on the front and "If Lost, Please Return To Steve" on the back.
And it turned out, as they stood against the barrier in a not so muddy field, on a lovely, warm, but overcast, May day, that even bands that sucked could be fun. Even if it was only because they spent their day with earplugs in, so their eardrums wouldn't combust, bitching about each artist's lack of ability to put notes or an outfit together.
During the lunchtime intermission, the pair made friends with the lesbian couple next to them, Kayla and Jess, who were also eagerly awaiting Chrissy's set and similarly liked to mock those who committed crimes against sound and fashion. Steve was glad to have met them, they were really nice, and he felt better about leaving her to use the bathroom or to fetch food, knowing Robin was in safe hands.
He also felt better about letting her wander off, not that it stopped him from stressing out when she and Kayla had been missing for over fifteen minutes. He spread himself out to keep their places against the railing with his back to the stage, watching the crowd intently. Jess wasn't quite as chatty once they were alone, but she seemed content enough, bobbing along to the band that'd appeared on the stage.
Steve didn't turn back around to face the stage until he spotted the girls heading back towards them, he gave them a wave and turned around to look at the guys who hadn't been attempting to destroy anyone's hearing and was met with the face of the most gorgeous man he'd ever seen. Pretty face, long curly hair tied up in a bun, muscle tee showing off his many tattoos, piercings and chains and glittery Docs; Steve felt himself owl blink and blush.
God's gift to mankind was kneeling centre stage, guitar in hand making the most beautiful sounds Steve had ever heard as his fingers flew over the strings, and it was only when the rest of the band kicked back in that the man looked up, winked directly at Steve, and then jumped back to his feet, spending the rest of the song bouncing around the stage.
Steve only realised his mouth was agape when Robin finally arrived next to him and elbowed him hard in the ribs, giving him the same look she did whenever he was embarrassing in the club. He watched the rest of the Corroded Coffin, according to the backdrop, set in awe. Screaming and clapping along when they wished everyone a great day, throwing picks and drumsticks into the crowd and taking a bow; patting each other on the back as they wandered offstage.
As soon as it was quiet again, Robin wanted to know what the hell was wrong with his face and honestly, he couldn't answer her. He didn't even believe in love, not for himself at least, and he certainly didn't believe in love at first sight. It didn't stop him from spending the next couple of hours watching the faces at the sides of the stage, hoping to catch a glimpse of his new favourite guitarist, though.
As soon as Chrissy hit the stage, Steve got lost, between filming the set and watching Robin trying not to hyperventilate when Chrissy spotted her t-shirt, pointed to her, and giving her a coy little wink, blew her a kiss.
"An old school friend is here with me tonight, and I'd like him to help me out with this next track. Especially for the beauty in the front row, this is Girlfriend!"
The crowd went wild as the beat kicked in, but Steve was still watching Robin because it looked like she'd stopped breathing altogether. That was until she gasped loudly and started smacking Steve in the way she always did whenever she got overly excited; pointing wildly at the stage, and it was only when he looked over he saw Corroded Coffins guitarist bouncing up and down next to Chrissy.
Instead of the black muscle vest and skinny jeans he'd been sporting earlier in the day, he had changed into pale blue board shorts and a baggy white t-shirt that read "Hey Steve!" written in black sharpie with a giant winking smiley face underneath that could only really be seen when he swung his guitar around his back to copy Chrissy's dance moves.
The song ended, and the friends hugged, Chrissy waving him off the stage and calling out, "Eddie Munson everybody!" letting the crowd go wild for her friend before launching into the rest of her set.
By the time Chrissy had actually left the stage, Robin looked exhausted, having screamed and sung and danced herself out. They hung around a bit, said goodbye to Kayla and Jess, wishing them a safe journey home, and they were just taking one last look at the now empty stage when he heard someone yell his name...
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meiieiri · 13 days
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𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐩 [toji fushiguro]
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synopsis: toji will never forget the first night he spent away from the zenin clan and the day he met you.
pairing: toji fushiguro x f!reader | song inspo: saw you in a dream, timeless | hidden inventory: the lost tapes series masterlist
warnings: mentions of emotional abuse but generally pretty much a fluff fic where toji and y/n meet for the first time. | a/n: finally launching my little love project called “hidden inventory: the lost tapes”! 🍒
Now isn’t this just perfect?
Toji’s is just one inconvenience away from just going back to the Zenin clan with his tail between his legs. First, he underestimates just how expensive living in Tokyo is so, with what little pocket money his emotionally distant mother gave him before he left the estate, the first thing he does is spend it all on a girl — in broad daylight — he’s heard his brother, Jinichi, talk about those cute little call girls that crawl the streets of Kabukichō with flyers in their hand for thirty-minute “massages”. Naturally, as a young man who is only first experiencing the carnal joys the city has to offer, Toji was curious and he took the bait.
A bait that cost him ¥30,000 and the girl was unfortunately sloppy at best.
Now, he doesn’t have money to buy so much as a soggy red bean pancake for dinner. He doesn’t know how long he’s been walking around this dingy part of Shinjuku but as long as the red light district’s trashy ambience is distracting him from the growling of his stomach, then, he’ll stumble around this hellhole until morning.
“Ha! You won’t even last two minutes out there!” That’s what Naobito Zenin, the head of the clan said to him when he left. “Only two things await you when you get out of here, either you’ll die hungry or a cursed spirit will get to you first — either way, you’ll die with your eyes wide open with no one!”
Overrun by his thoughts, Toji doesn’t even notice that he accidentally intruded on a random cockroach and curse-infested alleyway that apparently belonged to some junkie who is now angrily telling him to get lost. “I was just looking for a place to sit down,” Toji scoffs. Weren’t they both bottom feeders in this city? Why was this rancid-smelling meth addict acting like he’s any better than him?
“Well, go sit somewhere else, this place is off-limits!”
It was almost funny how Toji thought that the world beyond the gates of the Zenin estate was any better than the shit show he was born into.
He should have known better than to be enticed by the glitz and glamour of living independently from his abusive family who at least had the decency to feed him maggoty rice from the estate’s second storehouse dedicated to prepare the animals’ food. They also gave him shelter, of course, he’s had to live in the Zenin estate’s shed for a while now since his father discovered he was born useless without an ounce of cursed energy. But at least he was warm, and the termites made him feel less lonely.
He continues on in his aimless quest. The night is still young. There’s plenty of time for self-depreciating introspection.
Hopefully, that grade three cursed spirit that’s been following him around the block for a while now gets to him first before the rain does.
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“That guy over there,” your coworker whispers to you from the cash registers. “He’s been there for a while now and he hasn’t ordered anything.”
You look up from your pocketbook, your eyes curiously trained on the rugged looking man whose eyes were downcast, trained on the service water he requested from the counter when he came in. As if he could feel a pair of eyes on him, he looks up, and glances your way for a bit but you quickly hide your face behind your book.
“He kinda looks like trouble, no? Shady too, just look at the scar on his lip…”
“It’s not fair to judge someone like that, Rika-chan,” you whispered to your junior, turning to arrange the menus, painstakingly wiping each one clean with a cloth dampened with sanitizer. A small smirk appears on Toji’s lips at your passive defense of his character and as if to goad you on, he drums his fingertips against the table daring you to say another word. “Anyway, I’ll handle closing the shop tonight. You need to get home since you have class in a few hours.”
That seemed sudden. Rika looks at you funnily before shrugging off her apron in favor of her raincoat. “Well, alright, if you insist. Should I clean up the kitchen at least?”
“I’ll handle it,” you give her a thumbs up, waving her goodbye as she leaves through the backdoor. Now that you’re alone, you could hardly stop yourself from glancing at the mysterious man, and Toji himself wonders if his presence here is starting to turn into a nuisance. You were probably waiting for him to step out so you could close shop for the night but it’s raining hard right now and there are no other places open nearby to take shelter in.
The chair’s feet screeches against the wooden floorboards and you head to the restaurant’s kitchen. Toji stares at your retreating form, looks like he overstayed his welcome. He searches around for a few coins to give to you for your hospitality, of course, it probably doesn’t mean jack shit, but you must have known he didn’t have enough money for a meal when he came in here. You would have realized that immediately. But you allowed him to stay regardless.
You return a couple of minutes later with a bowl miso soup with ginger pork gyoza and shredded cabbages. You set the bowl down in front of him and Toji is thoroughly taken aback, he looks at you dumbfounded. “I don’t have any money,” his voice comes out a little gruffly but you barely flinch at the sharp edge of his tone.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Refilling his water, you explained that while you could have easily stuffed those leftovers back in the freezer, customers wouldn’t want to eat frozen food, so, you decide to heat these items up to give to him instead. “Oh,” Toji answers a little dumbly. “Or you could have thrown them out.” He stares at the sumptuous meal in front of him. Even in the Zenin estate, he never had such good food laid out in front of him before and it was surreal to see a stranger do the things his family should have done for him.
You return to the counter, leaning on your forearms as you engage in light banter with him. “You’re saying I should feed rats over people?” you chuckled, sitting back down, smiling softly when Toji gingerly bringing the bowl of miso soup to his lips, the rich earthy broth warming his throat that he lets out a content sigh.
He smirks at your little remark. “I’m saying you shouldn’t make a habit of feeding strays.” He polishes his soup bowl clean within minutes and you have to remind him to slow down every now and then as you watched him eat ravenously. “You never know when you could get that dainty hand of yours bitten off.”
You blushed pink at that. He was right, being too generous could cost you dearly one day but being the altruistic soul that you are, you’ll probably continue to be graciously selfless despite the risk of being taken advantage of. It’s just how you are as a person who believes that a little kindness can make the world better than it was yesterday. “I…don’t really know about that…whether I get bitten or not by the people I help isn’t really something I can control. The world would be better off if people just learned to be kind to one another.”
Toji hums at your naive countenance, folding his arms over the table. The room is silent for a few minutes save for the occasional rumble of thunder in the distance. “You’re kinda dumb, aren’t ya?”
“And you’re a pessimist,” you answered, quirking an amused eyebrow at him. “Who doesn’t even know how to say thank you.” You stand up to clear out the table, a teasing glint in your eyes as your curious orbs collide.
Toji scoffs, leaning against his seat, crossing his legs. At his reluctance, you shake your head, giggling softly. What an infuriating interesting guy. Toji hears the rushing of tap water from behind the counter and he smiles inwardly. The rain begins to slowly stop and he takes this window of opportunity to leave.
You don’t even try to hide your disappointment when you come back to the dining room only to find it empty, the stranger having left nothing in his wake — not a goodbye, not a thank you, and certainly not his name — except a single rusty five yen coin on the table.
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Clang-dong!
“Hello, welcome—“ You stop mid-sentence. Your throat constricting with a mix of emotions, the most dominant one being joy at this happy chance, you’d recognize those sharp dark green eyes anywhere despite only first seeing them a week ago. After all, they looked so dangerously beautiful under the dim light of the dining room’s ceiling lampshade. “—back. Welcome back,” you smiled brightly at Toji.
Toji nods, his hand coming up to cover his lips as he coughs once. “Thanks…ah, right — shit, where is it?” After rummaging around his parachute jacket’s many pockets, he finally takes out his wallet and you look at him, bewildered, when he hands a few hundred yen bills to you. “For last week. Sorry I couldn’t pay you back then.”
“It’s fine.” You take his larger, calloused hand and return the money which Toji responds to by stubbornly placing it on the table.
Toji pinches the bridge of his nose when you playfully return the gesture by rolling it up and placing it in his jacket pocket, buttoning it. “Look, it was real nice of you to treat me back then, but I’m not a charity case, alright? I just wanna pay my dues.”
“Then, a simple ‘thank you’ is enough.” Toji just couldn’t understand you. You have absolutely no reason to be nice to him, but you are. For a moment, he begins to fall into the enticing thought that maybe life outside the Zenin estate won’t be too bad after all if there are people like you still around just waiting at random corners to be found in joyful happenstances such as waiting out a storm at a random family-style restaurant over a heartwarming serving of miso soup with tender pieces of gyoza and cabbage.
Relenting, he smirks at you, unable to figure you out. “Thank you.”
“Anyway, need a table for lunch?” you smiled warmly at him as you lead him to the table he sat in a week ago which you now affectionately refer to as ‘his’ table instead of table number four.
Toji nods following your lead and chuckling when you hand him the menu. “Where’s that thing I had last time?“ he oddly flips through the booklet.
“Oh uh…it’s not on the menu actually, but I could make that for you if you’d like.”
“Sounds good.” Toji hands you back the menu. You are just about to scurry away to the kitchen when he calls out to you. “So, do you have a name or should I just keep referring to you as gyoza girl or something?” Embarrassed at the way your knees seem to become weak at his boyish grin, you have to take a few deep breaths before turning around to face him again. “I’m Toji.”
He doesn’t say his last name. He doesn’t feel the need to anymore now that he’s finally closing the door to his past. You nod, noting how the name suited him. It’s brief but strong, muted but loud in its rhythm. Toji. At that moment, you find it impossible to name a prettier sound. After a few excruciating minutes in the kitchen, you come back out with two bowls of miso soup this time around and you sit down on the chair directly in front of him.
“Y/N.”
Toji repeats the melody of your name in his head. “And how much do I owe ya for this, Y/N?”
You shrugged as the two of you dig in, your hand coming up to cover your mouth as you chew the steamed gyoza, joining him as he laughs (well, he’s scoffing more than actually laughing, really), his eyes alight with wonder, when you simply say, “Five yen.”
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withahappyrefrain · 4 months
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Somebody to Love
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Summary: Attending a cookout hosted by Penny seemed like the perfect way to kickstart summer. Meeting and falling in love there wasn't on yours or Bradley's bingo list.
Warnings: Language, Bradley being a loverboy, female reader
For @roosterforme's Rocktober event! I'm so sorry it took so long and hope you enjoy it!
The first time you saw Bradley was at the Hard Deck.  
He completely missed you, as much as it pains him to admit. 
In his defense, his eyes were on the ivory keys of the piano, only looking up briefly to revel in the cheers from guests of the Hard Deck as he played. 
You, in his defense, were just trying to get in and out. Considering it was barely seven, you thought you were coming in before things got rowdy.
You were mistaken. 
The show he was putting on was nice to watch while you waited for Penny to be free. But that's all it was, a show. And after a while, you couldn't help but scoff. Was being in the Navy not enough attention? 
The smile on Penny's face when her eyes met yours was worth the wait. You pulled out the coveted book from your bag, raising it in the air as if it were the golden ticket. 
"Amelia is going to be so excited," Penny beamed as she took the book from you, "She's been talking about it for weeks!"
The mention of your former student brought a smile to your face. 
Amelia was a student during your first year of teaching. You felt a kinship to the young girl, whose parents were going through a divorce at the time. You also saw that her love of reading was untapped, blocked by years of past teachers failing to help her learn how to read. 
So you worked with her the whole year, and the summer after that, helping the girl catch up. One summer, Penny offered a bartender job when she heard you were looking for extra money. Over time, the Benjamin women had become more like family than your own. 
It's why you stayed in touch. Why you took on extra shifts occasionally during the school year, when Penny truly needed help at the last minute. Why you made the trip out to the Hard Deck simply to give a book. 
"Stay for a drink? It's on the house," Penny held up an empty glass, hoping the way it gleamed in the light could entice you into staying. 
But you looked around, taking in how many people were there, how loud it was. How the man wearing aviators and a Hawaiian shirt was feeding the crowd with the piano rendition of a song that sounded familiar. 
And simply shook your head. 
"Should get going, it is a school night." The truth was, you'd rather be at home, in your bed reading than staying out late with a bunch of pilots. 
Before you could say goodbye, Penny placed a hand on yours.
"Before you go Birdie, I wanted to let you know that we're celebrating Amelia's middle school graduation two weeks from Saturday. We'd love to have you there." 
You smiled, sincerely flattered that they would want you present for such an event, "I'd love to. Will your man of the hour be there?" 
A giggle escaped from you when you saw Penny's cheeks begin to turn pink. 
Bradley swears if he had looked over at that moment, he wouldn't have let you leave the Hard Deck that night. 
—------------------------
Bradley Bradshaw was not anti-romance, despite what his friends claimed, despite the numerous times he's turned down someone wanting to set him up. 
The idea of romance did appeal to him. The idea of spending the rest of his life with one person, who loved him and wanted to grow a family with him, was very appealing in theory. 
He wasn't against it at all. Just cautious. 
Cautious as he witnessed first hand how dangerous his job was, how it tore families apart. Hesitant because he grew up with the aftermath- the support groups, the sympathetic looks, the empty dining chair that served as a loud, always present reminder of what he and his mother had lost. 
He had been on dates, had been in relationships. They never went anywhere and Bradley was fine with that. The possibility that he may not come back from his deployments lingered in his mind, as did the image of someone receiving a flag and maybe his dog tags. 
Why put someone through that? 
“It's hard, but I wouldn't change a thing about it. You'll understand when it happens to you.” 
His mother’s words rang in his ears. He knew she meant well. Bradley knew those words were true for her. 
But he couldn't see them being true for himself. 
So he came to Amelia’s graduation party with a vegetable tray and no date, despite Penny’s insistence that he could bring someone. 
It's why Bradley walked straight past the kitchen, ignoring the unfamiliar voices. It's why he kept to the people he knew, rather than mingle with strangers. 
And that was fine, enjoyable even. Things were going the way they always went, the way Bradley wanted it. 
Consistent. 
Bradley Bradshaw lived for consistency. Each morning, he'd get up and go to work. Work hard until his bones ache. Spend time with friends and the makeshift family he had found. Go to bed alone. Rinse and repeat. 
Consistent. 
Everything was just fine, until Bradley felt a hand grip his shoulder. When he turned around, he found Jake and his fiancé, Danica (or Venus, as everyone called her), looking at him. 
“Your future wife is in the kitchen. Get in there.” 
—-------------------------------
Bob saw her first. 
It was hard to miss the sound of classic rock blaring from her red Subaru. 
The sounds of eighties rock was a nice change from the Jerry Lewis and Sinatra music Bradley insisted on playing. 
Even nicer was her voice. Sweet, smooth, light. 
She was clearly in her own world, unaware she had an audience. 
Nor would she. Bob knew better than anyone the pains of people walking in on him. So he quietly got out of his car, leaving her to finish the song by herself. 
Reuben was the first one to speak to her. 
Or rather, his daughter was. 
Ava, always determined to explore, ran into the kitchen as soon as he set her on the ground. 
It was easy to find her. Despite being only two, Ava had quite the voice on her. 
Given her shouts about cookies, Reuben wasn’t surprised when he found his daughter in the kitchen, pointing excitedly to a plate of sugar cookies. 
He was a little surprised to see that the person kneeling down to talk to her wasn’t Penny, but rather a woman he had never seen before. 
“Is it okay if I give her a cookie?” She asked, motioning to the sugar cookie she was holding in her hand. 
“As long as you're able to cut her off after two,” Reuben chuckled, “I'm warning you now, she can be hard to convince.” 
You smiled, the corners of your eyes crinkling, the bridge of your nose scrunching up as you looked at Ava, “It'll be tough, but I think I can manage.” 
Javy was the first one to try to include her in the picnic festivities. 
“Hey, don't tell them this is what we’re calling them, but we’re playing beer pong against the old timers in the basement. You in?” He asked. 
“Oh I'm good, but don't worry, your secret is safe with me,” She said with a gentle smile and a wink. 
It was the fact that she sounded assured, content to stay in the kitchen and continue making small talk with some of the wives, away from the hubbub of the picnic, that made him not push. 
Natasha was the first one to have an actual conversation with her. 
In a sea full of testosterone, it was  hard not to notice another woman. Especially one who looked around her age. 
“So how do you know Penny?” You looked rather surprised by Nat’s question, surprised that another person had noticed you in the kitchen and decided to converse.
“Oh, I'm, well, I was Amelia’s third grade teacher. I tutored her for a couple of summers and have helped Penny bartend when she needs extra help,” you explained. 
Natasha recalls Penny mentioning you a few times, now able to put a face to the name. 
“So you're the teacher! Penny said we might see you at the Hard Deck this summer,” Nat grinned, hoping it would help her feel more at ease. 
“I am! I'm still figuring out how exactly I want to spend my summer. First time I won't be doing summer school or tutoring,” you explained, continuing to wash the dishes that had begun to pile up on the counter. 
“Any travel plans? Or family you plan to visit?” Nat asked. 
You shook your head, eyes appearing dismal for a brief moment, “I don't have much family to visit. But I have been meaning to explore the area more, so I might do that.” 
Natasha knew not to press. You didn't owe her any further explanation. 
But out of all people, Jake Seresin was the one to make the connection. 
“I’m sorry, but what did Penny just call you?” He asked, jamming a finger up his ear to clean it out, convinced he heard it wrong. 
“Oh, Birdie!” you explained, flustered, “It’s um….it’s always been a nickname that friends and family have called me, ever since I was a kid. When I told Penny, she started calling me that too.”
Jake recalls the other details he's learned; a love of classic rock, vintage clothes and children, how your face lit up when someone spoke to you, as though you had  been waiting an awfully long time to be noticed, to be acknowledged. 
Your nickname. 
It hits Jake like a fucking freight train. 
“Excuse me, I have to go uh, um, find my wife,” he said abruptly, practically running out of the kitchen. 
Jake quickly found his Venus, tapping her on the shoulder as he ignored the death glare Phoenix was giving him for interrupting. 
“What is-” 
“Birdie. Her nickname is Birdie.” 
Danica’s amber-glazed eyes widened as she shot Natasha a knowing look. 
“Where is she?” 
Which is how Bradley Bradshaw found himself being dragged away from the grill and into Penny's house. 
After all, Bradley didn't have too much common sense. He would insist he was alright, despite losing his beat as he watched his close friends fall in love and get married. 
So they were just helping, helping him find somebody to love. 
“Y'all are being ridiculous, just because she likes the same music-” 
“It's more than that. You just need to see for yourself,” Jake explained, pushing him towards the kitchen. Inside, a sweet voice was talking.
“Peekaboo! I see you!” He could hear a big smile through your voice, “Now it's Ava’s turn!” 
Bradley turned the corner to find you sitting cross legged on the kitchen floor, enabling you to be somewhat closer to eye level with Ava. You and the little toddler were both full of giggles as you continued your game. 
Ava’s small hands flew up to her face, covering her eyes. It was an adorable sight, how she was trying to say the words. A bright smile adorned your face, eyes shining as you played with her. 
“Where did Ava go?” You asked, pretending to look, “There she is!”
A warmth flooded Bradley’s heart as he watched this mysterious woman interact with Ava. It felt familiar,childhood memories of his mom flooding back. But this time, instead of feeling sorrow, a pleasantness surrounded him. 
Strange. 
Ava babbled, causing you to giggle once more. 
“My name is Birdie. Can you say Birdie?”
Oh. 
So that was why everyone thought this was his future wife. 
It was a cute coincidence, nothing more. Yes, it was beyond endearing to watch you interact with Ava, you were obviously great with kids. 
“Roo!” Ava’s coos of her special nickname for Bradley broke him out of his thoughts. 
“What's a Roo?” You asked, your eyebrows knitted together in confusion. The puzzled look on your face was adorable. 
“That would be me. Hey Ava girl,” Bradley kneeled down, his arms open wide, allowing Ava to run over and hug him. 
You instantly recognized him thanks to the memorable mustache. But his smile and eyes were much softer now. His whole demeanor is less cocky and more approachable in Penny’s kitchen. 
Bradley scooped the young toddler into his arms, grinning as Ava giggled. 
“You being good? Trying to persuade people to give you more cookies by being adorable?” Bradley asked the toddler. 
“I'm holding out strong. Don't want her dad to hate me for giving her a sugar rush,” You explained, a soft smile on your face as you watched him interact with Ava. 
“See, the key is to make sure the sugar rush happens when he takes her home,” Bradley grinned, “That way he can't do anything about it.” 
“I'm sure he can ask around regarding who gave her all that sugar though,” you retorted, facing the sink again to continue the dishes. 
“See, that's where you have the advantage; you're not in the group chat,” Bradley balanced Ava on a hip, walking over to the sink to join you. 
You were fun to talk to; able to hold your own with a soft, yet slightly mischievous smile adorning your face. 
“I'm Bradley,” he explained, the spirit of his mother probably screaming that it took him this long to introduce himself. 
“I take that's your actual name, considering that's way too normal to be your callsign,” normally you wouldn't tease a complete stranger like this. But he was easy to talk to and it helped that he was holding an adorable baby like a complete natural. 
“It is. My callsign is Rooster.” The information caused your hands to still. 
“Rooster?” It was too wild to be a coincidence. 
“Yeah, when I was part of my first squadron, I was always the first one to be up. But I also had a tendency to be well, louder than what they would have preferred, which is how I got my callsign Rooster.” Bradley smiled as he recalled the loud complaints of his squadron, which always seemed to die down once they learned he was making breakfast. 
“I, love that. Sorry, I, it's funny your callsign is that. Because it's like a nickname right? My nickname is Birdie,” your speech quickened as you realized you were rambling, “I know that nicknames aren't the same as callsigns. Well, in a way they are, they're both given to you for a reason, right? It's just funny how our nicknames are both-” 
“Excuse me?” You looked up to see your savior came in the form of a bespectacled man who was standing by the door. 
“I was threat-I mean, told by Danica and Phoenix that I needed to get Ava,” The man said, walking over to Bradley. 
“Bo!” Ava exclaimed, reaching for the man. 
“Sure thing Bob,” Bradley said, hanging over the toddler to his friend, unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes at his friends’ schemes. 
“C'mon Ava, let's leave the two soon to be lovebirds alone,” Bob whispered, out of the room before Bradley could say anything.
“Did he just… “
Bradley sighed, “Gotta watch out for that one. He's quiet but can be cheeky when he wants to be.” 
“As opposed to the others, who are just outright cheeky?” You asked. 
Bradley chuckled, “You're catching on. Here, I can dry while you wash?” 
He could be spending time with his squadron. Could be spending time joking with Mav’s old squad, making jokes and talking about the past that he was too young to remember. Could be anywhere but here in the kitchen, helping you do dishes. 
And yet, he didn't mind it at all. Bradley was finding himself enjoying his conversation with you, despite knowing it would earn him several eye rolls and shoulder shoves from Danica and Jake. 
You were surprised he was still here, that he hadn't found an excuse to leave. 
It was a nice change. 
“So you're the teacher Penny talks about?” 
You laughed, “Is that who I'm known as? You're like the third person to ask me that.” 
“Just shows how big of an impact you had.” Your cheeks warmed at the praise. 
“You know, you just try your best. Make sure to listen. Helps that I'm also a child of divorce, you know? Had a lot of pointers,”  you shrugged, but it was clear you were downplaying your efforts. 
“Have you always wanted to be a teacher?” Bradley asked, wanting to keep the conversation going, despite the dishes being done. 
You took your hands out of your pockets, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. Your shoulders shrug as a small smile spreads across your lips. 
“Yeah. I love helping folks, especially kids. I was a camp counselor all throughout high school and I just….felt at home when I was helping other people,” you explained. 
You leaned forward, the scent of jasmine flooding Bradley’s nostrils. 
“It makes sense that I became a teacher. But if you asked me as a kid what I wanted to do as a grown up, I wouldn't have said teaching.” 
Bradley leaned forward. With the sunlight hitting him, you could now see the lighter shades of brown that adorned his curls. 
“A mom. I’ve always wanted to be a mom.” 
“You'll understand when it happens to you.” 
Oh. Okay. 
That's when Bradley Bradley finally gets it. Because he's imagining life with you; moving in together, getting married, having kids. The risk is still there. But he'd rather live with that risk and you than not at all. 
“I know that's silly, but it's true. I mean, it's not even an occupation-” 
“I said I wanted to be a dad when I grew up.” 
Your eyes light up at his admission, feeling at ease and less like a rambling burden. 
“You must have had a really great Dad then.” There was a flash of sorrow in his eyes at the mention of his father. 
“From what I remember. I was only four when he died, but….from what I remember, he was great,” his voice was softer now, his eyes showing he was in another place. 
You inched closer to him, “I'm really sorry, I'm sure that was hard for you and your mom.” 
“It wasn't easy. But she always said she wouldn't change anything. Never really understood that until recently.” His shoulder is touching yours, his long fingers inches away from your thighs. You were hyper aware of the closeness, unsure if moving away would be proper or offensive. 
“Something helped you have that revelation?” 
“Moreso someone.” 
It's impossible to not notice the way his stare lingers on you, how his smile is warm and those whisky eyes are shining bright as he sends a wink your way. It makes your heart flutter; no one has ever looked at you that way before. 
Nerves begin to overtake your brain, causing you to look away from his intense gaze. 
“Should we um, get back to the picnic?” You all but mumbled. There's no desire to leave him, but you don't want to get your hopes up. 
“Can I at least get your number before we do that?” Bradley asks, eagerly getting out his phone. 
Bradley Bradshaw hates accidents, except for the one that led him to this kitchen, to you. 
His forwardness is uncharted territory. There's no wondering or second guessing; Bradley wants to stay in touch, wants to keep talking to you. 
It's nice. It's unfamiliar. It's exciting. It's sending your doubts and anxiety into a tailspin. 
Your fingers fumble for your phone, opening up a new contact for him to fill out. His fingers brush against yours when he hands you his phone, little sparks flying up your spine. 
Bradley simply smiles when your eyes look at the screen of his phone. Your brows knit together in confusion, the bridge of your nose scrunching up as you read over the words again and again, eyes surely playing tricks on you. 
“Um, I think you made a mistake Bradley?” you hold up his phone, “The name for this  contact is Mrs. Bradshaw?” It also has a heart emoji next to it, but that wasn't worth mentioning. 
“Oh, it's no mistake,” Bradley grins. 
The only sound you can let out is a confused huh. 
“You just gotta put your number right there, and then you're all set.” Bradley points to it, an assured smile remaining on his face. 
“Are you….are you going to change the name?” You asked, dumbfounded. 
Bradley shrugs, “Nah. I'll know it's you. But I can put the word ‘future’ in parentheses if you want it to be more accurate.” 
Your fingers have a mind of their own, typing in those desired ten numbers. Bradley takes his phone from your hands but not before placing a gentle kiss on your burning cheek. 
His lips feel soft, the hairs of his mustache gently tickling your skin. When you turn your head, your lips are now inches away from yours. 
You try to ground yourself, try to look away from his lips, try to ignore the warm, fuzzy feeling that's overtaking your body. 
“Sorry Birdie, but I'm old fashioned. First kiss shouldn't be until the first date,” He winks. 
What floors you more, his confidence or his bold desire for you? 
Raising an eyebrow, you ask, “And when will that be?” 
Bradley chuckles, “Whenever you want Birdie.” 
He can't be serious. But what would he gain from leading you on, other than Penny’s wrath? 
You straighten your shoulders, trying to hold your own against his large frame.
“Tomorrow at six,” You muster up all the confidence you can, preparing yourself for him to drop the act. 
“Done. Do you prefer Italian or French?” 
“Neither as I'm lactose intolerant.” This was it. Was he going to stop the act, once he knew it would require more effort. 
“How do you feel about Thai? I know a great spot. Never been but it's been praised by Jake and Danica and let me tell you, that woman does not give out praise easily.” 
You giggled, “I could tell. By the way, is there a reason he calls her Venus?” 
“Short version; he's obsessed with her. Been that way since they met in the parking lot of a coffee shop. You should ask them how they met; they give different answers and it's hilarious,” Bradley explains, a gleam in his eyes as he thinks about one of his favorite couples. 
“I'd like that. But if you go with me,” you asked, “Kinda random to just walk up to a couple you don't know and ask how they met.” 
Again, you expect Bradley to falter. He's clearly more outgoing than you, so why would he want someone whose first instinct wasn't to strike up a conversation with strangers? 
“I will, but only if you confirm we’re on for Thai tomorrow at six.” 
Surely, he couldn't be serious. But that sweet smile and shining brown eyes said otherwise. 
“You really gonna take me out?” you crossed your arms over your chest. 
“Of course! I mean, I'm more than happy to take you out tonight, but you said tomorrow, so I'm sticking to it. Plus, it gives me time to get you flowers. Speaking of which, what are your favorite? You seem like a sunflower gal,” his eyes reminded you of an eager puppy, absolutely endearingly adorable. 
“What makes you think that?” He was absolutely right, but you wouldn't let him know that yet. 
Bradley shrugged, “When you smile, it reminds me of sunshine. Also, if it want to get technical, birds also like sunflower seeds.” 
You couldn't help but throw your head back and laugh. Your laugh was sweet, bursting with joy. It calmed down Bradley’s racing heartbeat. 
 “And what should I get you, Rooster? Corn meal?”
His corniness almost made you forget that he literally compared you to the sun. 
Almost. 
His laugh was deep, bellowing deep from his stomach, making you feel warm all over. 
“You kill me Mrs. Bradshaw, now let's go get you that story,” He gently takes your hand into his, entwining his fingers with yours. 
The nickname makes you less confused and more certain Bradley would be sticking around.
2K notes · View notes
makeyoumine69 · 1 year
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Love ur writing it always makes me so happy when you post
For the celebration can you do breeding, belly bulge, and loss of innocence/virginity please 🥵🥵
Obsession
◥ PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader
◥ SUMMARY: When your father told you that you were going to marry the son of his biggest business partner, named Patrick Bateman, you didn't believe him at first, but eventually you had to face reality and accept your destiny.
◥ WARNINGS: Smut, hurt /comfort, forced marriage, forced pregnancy (kinda), loss of virginity, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering, nipple play/tit sucking, teasing, vaginal sex, creampie, belly bulge, Breeding kink, Praise kink, Innocent kink, Size kink, sweet dirty talk, multiple orgasms, humiliation, manipulation, pet names, horny hubby!Patrick Bateman himself.
◥ WORDCOUNT: 4.1k
◥ SONG REC: Mariah Carey - Obsessed🖤
◥ A/N: Finally, I managed to finish this prompt. I really enjoyed writing it, thank you so much for this request, I hope you like it!
◥ LINKS: [MASTERLIST] [BWC MASTERLIST] [buy me a coffee]💓
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You were so scared and lost that you couldn't really believe it was happening - you wished that marrying Patrick Bateman was just a dream... but it wasn't. It all felt so real when after the super luxurious wedding, you rode in his limo to the Plaza Hotel for your first night together. Because the whole situation between the two of you was so rushed, you didn't even have time to get to know each other better, your father was too impatient and he wanted this marriage to happen as soon as possible. However, you remembered Patrick since you were children and all the girls around were always so charmed by him, even when he was just a little cheeky boy.
“What’s wrong, darling?” Patrick suddenly asked, placing his large palm on your knee. 
With a sharp gasp, you shrugged from his unexpected touch and turned to face him, holding for a moment to admire his beautiful, brown eyes. 
“Nothing.” You replied, breaking eye contact with him once you noticed you were staring at him for too long. 
You heard him letting out a tired sigh, and then Bateman tried to cuddle with you a bit, wrapping his arm around your slightly shaking shoulders. “I know that everything seems to be a bit messy but…”
"It doesn't seem like it, but it really is," you looked at him again, his face so close to yours that you had to hold your breath. "Literally…everything."
"Baby, please. Don't interrupt me, okay?" Patrick tried his best to be patient and polite, but you could feel his hand tightening on your back with each passing moment. "Things are really messed up, but I want to assure you – if you can be a good wife, I'll be a great husband to you. That sounds like a good deal, doesn't it?"
Shivering from being so close to him, you almost writhed in your seat when you felt his searing lips brushing behind your ear as he murmured something soft, something soothing, but you couldn't concentrate as the meaning of his words slipped away from you like a leaf in the wind.
“Pat-Patrick, actually … there’s one thing I didn’t tell you yet,” you mused nearly audible. “You know, I’ve never been close with anyone.”
“What do you mean?”
As soon as you opened your mouth to respond, the limo stopped and you both looked into the window to see the beautiful illumination of the Plaza. 
“Oh thank God, we’re finally here … I really hate NY in this time of the day, because of these fucking traffic jams.” 
Bateman’s rants still resound behind your back even when you got outside. Gently, he held your waist for support as you moved to the entrance to the grand hotel, your hand kept fixing the hem of your massive dress. 
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It was not surprising that Patrick chose a luxury presidential suite for you, with large rooms and high ceiling above. You couldn't hide your fascination and that made him smirk loftily whilst he was helping you to remove your half-coat. Little by little, you moved to what was supposed to be a living room and took a seat on the huge black leather couch, suppressing growing anxiety inside your chest. 
“Do you like this place?” Patrick looked at you before letting out a short whistle, removing his jacket. 
“Yes, it’s really nice.” Smiling timidly, you clutched at the skirt of your dress once you saw him coming closer. 
“Uh, you always loved fancy things, darling,” he sat next to you, throwing his leg over another and placing his hand on the back of the couch, almost touching your shaky shoulders. “Well, nothing's too good for my wifey.”
His kiss on your lips was so sudden that it sent a million chills down your spine, causing your lungs to cramp from the lack of oxygen. At first, you clawed frantically at his solid biceps as you felt his hot tongue slide against your mouth in a demanding manner. You jolted once you gave him what he wanted, because this kiss was nothing compared to the one you shared at the wedding - it was much more passionate, but still you couldn't relax.
“Pat-Patrick, please … wait,” you whispered as your voice shook, searching for his brown eyes which now were dark as a midnight sky. “You must know one very important thing.”
“What is it, my dear?” 
"I'm..." you stuttered from the way he was staring at you, his hungry gaze literally eating you alive. "I'm a virgin, Patrick."
He frowned for a moment, then laughed uproariously before pulling up the hem of your dress, messing with its countless layers. "You can't be serious."
His reaction really embarrassed you, so you just pushed his big palm away and got up, leaving him on the couch with a disappointed grimace on his face.
"Hey! Where are you going?" He asked annoyingly, his golden Rolex wiggling on his wrist as he raised his hands in confusion.
"I want to get off this dress and change into something else," you complained, trying to reach the ties at the back of your dress to undo them. "I hate it!"
It was as if he hadn't even noticed your ranting when he rejoined you: "And what about that guy from college who was hovering around you like a fucking shark? Poor guy missed his chance to get a bite of a delicious pie like you?"
Gritting your teeth, you shrugged at the unpleasant sensation and shouted: "Don't you dare talk about him like that!"
He chuckled again, in his natural haughty way. "He was always a loser, and I always knew you would be mine."
You were almost done with the ties, but as soon as you heard his last words, you froze, feeling something snap in your mind. "What did you just say?"
Bateman's grin grew even wider as you turned to face him, with an unhidden dread in your eyes. "I said I always get what I want..." He stood up and walked over to the large coffee table near the couch, taking a glass and pouring some red liquid into it. "Wine?"
When you didn't answer, he took a sip of alcohol before continuing his malicious confession: "As you probably remember, my dear (Y/N), my father wanted me to marry," with every word he said, Patrick was slowly closing the distance between the two of you. "And he also wanted me to have an heir. The American dream family, that really works best for a good social reputation".
He paused, standing almost face to face with you, you could feel his expensive perfume enveloping you like a mist. “And?” 
Your curiosity made him sneer with delight, so he cupped your cheek and looked down at you, murmuring softly as if trying to lull you into a fake sense of comfort. "And then there was a business meeting with your father where I remembered you as the ideal candidate to be my wife," he smiled almost lovingly, stroking your cheekbone and placing a tender kiss on your temple. "Too bad you couldn't see the look on your father's face when we talked about it, he was as happy as if he'd won a fucking billion dollars."
Stifling the immense pain in your heart, you closed your eyes and almost fell into his embrace from the feeling of being so miserable in this selfish world. His words only proved your thoughts about being just a figure in another chase game of your dad, and according to what Bateman just told you - your father won a jackpot by forcing you to marry the son of his biggest business partner.
“But to be fair, I didn’t expect to be that lucky …” he murmured before pulling you closer, his hands traveling around your lower back. “… to get such an innocent flower.”
When Patrick kissed you on lips again, you didn’t even struggle as the dark void inside your soul was consuming all of your thoughts and feelings, leaving you completely empty. With no rush, Bateman was undoing the rest of the ties on your dress as if he was unwrapping his most desirable gift. Your throat shivered in a choked gasp, as your body was traitorously responding to each touch he made, especially when his large palms ran across your boobs to give them a slight squash. 
"Baby, you don't have to be afraid of me." His suddenly charming voice sounded like honey, so sweet and stringy. 
"I'm not afraid," you stared up at him, catching his hands that were now caressing your thighs. "I'm so... so fucking disappointed."
"It's understandable."
"But not for you," you scowled a bit, biting your lip to keep the salty tears from welling up in your eyes. "I'm just a toy for you... just like for my beloved father."
Suddenly Patrick's eyebrows knitted, making him look a little frustrated. "No, you're not."
"Enough lies," you wanted to push him away, but he only held you tightly, forcing you to keep eye contact with him. "This is all so fake!"
"Maybe everything around us is fake, but we are not..." he gently traced a finger along your cheek, moving down to outline your trembling lips. "We're real, and when I said I'd take care of you, it wasn't a lie."
The way he looked at you was literally captivating, it caught you off guard and you couldn't help but breathe out sharply as his plump lips nestled against the sensitive spot on your neck. 
"Pat... Patrick," your hands clung to his shoulders as you desperately searched for protection, and your inner nature told you that he could do it - his strong arms were like a shield between you and the whole world. "I really want to make it work, but..."
Bateman didn't allow you to finish, pressing his thumb against your mouth and then lifting you up as if you weighed nothing as he walked into the big, fashionable bedroom. Shaking slightly, you closed your eyes from the sense of unreality that clouded your mind like the strongest alcohol.
Did he just say he was going to take care of you? 
The man you had always known as a total egoist, who loved no one but himself, now covered your small frame from above as he laid you on the king-size bed, planting little kisses on your cheek before settling on his knees, undoing his tie and unbuttoning his white shirt.
"You look gorgeous, (Y/N)," he mused, taking your leg to peck at your ankle, causing your back to arch at his unexpected tenderness. "As you always do."
Cautiously, Patrick slid down your luxury wedding dress, exposing your bare skin that was not hidden under your beautiful white lingerie - just a glimpse of it made him swallow hard, and when you gave him your most innocent look, he licked his lips briefly as his nostrils began to turn red.
Panting barely audibly, Bateman stood on the floor to remove his clothes, not wasting a moment to admire your embarrassed face, the more naked he became, the more noticeably you began to fidget.
"Come here, darling." He purred like a cat and beckoned you over to sit on the edge of the bed.
There was something sweet about him, as all the girls always said when they saw him, which was probably the reason why you couldn't resist him as you obeyed and knelt beside him, waiting for his next move.
“Babydoll,” he stroked your cheekbone, and you closed your eyes again from the blissful sensation of his warm palm. “Tonight, I’m gonna guide you into the world of pure pleasure … ”
You shuddered at his promise as your insides tightened like a spring - that strange sensation was both terrifying and exhilarating.
"You'll never be the same after this, sweetheart." Bateman crooned, wrapping his hand around your neck, not to hurt you, but to make you feel his unspoken dominance.
“A-ahh,” your low moan caressed his ears and that was one of the most delighted things he ever heard. “What do you want me to do?”
Your hasty question impelled him to humm in absolute adoration, as Patrick drew near your mouth to kiss you hungirly, never in your life someone was kissing you like that, sucking on your lips one by one and biting them a bit, making you literally melt in his strong arms.
"Be yourself, (Y/N)," he whispered into your ear, hugging your shoulders before pushing on them determinedly, and now you were sprawled on the bed beneath him. "You're incredible just the way you are."
Trembling, you wanted to scream as his words worshiped your broken soul, even if he was only doing it to befuddle you and get what he wanted - in that moment, you didn't care as the strange, burning desire grew from the inside, corrupting your innocent mind by the second.
Delicately, Bateman darted his soft fingers against your belly, sliding them up to your heavy breasts, teasing your nipples with light strokes, you gasped from that contact, creasing the blanket and spreading your legs that allowed him to rest himself more comfortably. 
“Good girl,” he praised you and pulled down the straps of your lingerie to expose your extremely hard peaks. “Mmm … my sweet, little girl.” He gave one of them a few licks, before he took it into his hot mouth, sucking it with pure delight. 
“A-aww, Gosh … ” You wailed and enfolded your arms around his head, not even realizing you were pressing him closer. 
Patrick exhaled a muffled groan and switched to your other nipple, swirling his wet tongue around it so deliciously that the tight knot in your lower abdomen was begging to be released.
“Patrick! P-Patrick please!”
“Mmm, honey, you have amazing tits,” he huffed and trapped your swollen tip between his sharp, white teeth, forcing you to freeze in silent moan of pleasure. Seizing the moment, he sneaked his long fingers between your legs to grope your taut lower lips. “Fuck, you’re soaking wet and we have only just started.”
Breathing heavily, you look up at him from under your lashes with your dazed eyes, feeling his soft finger pads slide up and down your feverish pussy. Bateman stared back at you, smirking in his arrogant way, especially when you jerked beneath him as he slipped a thumb inside your panties and pressed it against your sensitive nub.
"No one's ever touched you like this before?" Patrick asked, rubbing your clit steadily, forcing you to bend your legs into knees to give him more space to play with. 
You tossed the pillows around to cover your face and just nodded, feeling his ministrations becoming more and more insistent, you didn't know how long you could stand it. 
"Mmm, does that feel good, baby?" He watched you from above, admiring the view of your trembling body as his fingers slid over your cunt like clockwork, making obscene, sleek noises.
"A-arrh, yes ... mmm ... so good."
To be fair, Bateaman knew what you were going to say before you answered, because he was absolutely confident in his sex skills, and you would remember this night for a long time.
First, he left a light kiss on your side, passing your rib bones as he descended to your mound, leaving a wet trail of hickeys. Fondly, Patrick opened your hips wide apart, and he had to hold them securely as he pushed your underwear aside. You winced because you knew what he was going to do, and when he finally latched his plump lips against your blushing clit, you didn't know whether to stop him or explode right here - his skilled tongue left you with no choice. 
"Mm-mmhm, ohhh God, I can't... I can't, Patrick! It's too much," you writhed on the bed, the tension in your womb too intense for you to bear. "P-Please ... ah, please ..."
Uncertain of what you were pleading for, you let him strap your legs over his broad shoulders as he lapped at your cunt without stopping, sucking your burning flesh and consuming your sweet juices like his favourite dessert. You were so fucking close to combustion when a sudden sharp pain ripped through your body, causing you to shriek in agony.
"Shh, it's all right ... I need to prep you, (Y/N)," he smooched the inside of your hip, slowly pushing his thin fingers into your spasming cleft. "Hang in there, baby. Will you do it for me?"
His voice was so soothing, so convincing. As you wiped away your tears, you saw him offer you a hand and you took it, letting your fingers intertwine. Patrick interpreted this gesture as a 'yes' and the next moment his lips found their way back to your clit, flicking it with his warm tongue and sparingly pumping your pussy with his expert fingers.
As much as he attempted to be gentle, it was still painful as he plunged deeper with each passing second.  "Mmm, I..." you stammered as you felt him add another finger. "I'm scared, Patrick."
"Don't be," Bateman mused after tugging on your little tip with a squelch, slowly twisting his digits and looking at you from between your legs. "As long as you're a good girl for me, you've got nothing to worry about."
Swallowing hard, you closed your eyes from the stinging sensation of your shimmering tears. You knew there was no going back, you belonged to this man now and he could do whatever he wanted with you. Still, you tried to believe him, it might be naive and stupid, but... you just couldn't deny your sympathy towards him, especially when he treated you so kindly and lovingly.
Maybe one day you would regret it, but for now all you could do was whimper loudly and writhe on the king-size bed in the most expensive suite at the Plaza Hotel as your lawful husband was about to make you his, now and forever.
After a while, your taut body couldn't take any more of the crazy mix of pain and ecstasy that was intoxicating your mind - you orgasmed so vividly that you were afraid you were going to pass out from the feeling of your inner walls pulsating again and again.
"Yes ... just like that, honey," Patrick murmured, his fingers still pounding into your spasming cunt, prolonging your climax and it seemed you were about to cum again. "Ahhh, baby, you make me so proud."
"Patrick..." your chest rose and fell so abruptly that your face burned from the heat, as if someone had poured hot tea on you. "Mmm..."
You only managed to squeak out as Bateman suddenly rolled you over, forcing you to stay on your knees as he sat behind you. Shit, he was so huge, you felt so tiny in his arms, especially when he wrapped them around you to plant a sloppy kiss on your neck, he could feel the artery beating so fast.
"You'll like it, believe me," he chuckled softly before pushing down on your back to bend you over. "It will hurt, I admit, but not for too long."
At the very last moment, a creeping fear took over your mind and even after several orgasms he had worked you up, you couldn't relax, knowing the pain to come. Nervously, you bent down to rest your head on your crossed elbows, his hot flesh poking at your tight little hole. God, he was so big... you knew it from the time you danced close together at your wedding, your inner channel clenching around nothing in anticipation of what would happen next.
"(Y/N)," he called your name longingly, stroking his full length as he spread your wetness around his engorged head. "I've never wanted someone as badly as I want you now."
Bateman lowered himself to lick your neck, and then you screamed loudly as he began to thrust into you, gripping your hips tightly as you instinctively tried to slip away. 
"Pat! Mmm, I'm so f-full, Goshhh," you tried your best to hold yourself back from crying, but the tearing sensation in your lower abdomen was too much to handle. "W-wait!"
"Almost there, darling," Patrick lied, as it was only the tip, but he didn't want to make the current situation any worse, so he decided to just keep going, ramming into you with more effort, grabbing you by the waist and almost digging his fingers into your delicate skin. "You're doing so well, mmmm ... F-fuck, you're so tight, baby."
Bateman really tried to control himself, but the way you embraced his thick cock was too blissful, it brought out his inner beast faster than he thought.
"Aaa-awww, so... so big, oh mmmm," your eyes rolled back in your head as he buried himself completely into your squeezed womb, your saliva dripping uncontrollably from your mouth. "Ah! It hurts..."
Without hesitation, Patrick leaned down to your neck and tongued your earlobe in order to soothe you a little, and when that didn't help, he cupped your face to bring you closer as his red-hot lips locked with yours. Passionately, he attacked your mouth, sucking and licking your tongue with a slurpy sound. 
"You will give me a child, sweetheart," Bateman muttered in a demanding tone before forcing you to sit on your knees and covering you from behind. "A beautiful son..." he thrust deeper, holding you by the neck. "...or a daughter...or both."
The sounds of flesh meeting flesh mixed with the squelching your pussy made each time his beefy shaft moved in and out of your inner channel, relentlessly hitting your cervix with its tip.
"Yes, P-Patrick ... I'll do anything you ... want ... aaaww!" Your ability to speak diminished each time he rocked into your body, pressing you closer to his solid muscles as he settled more comfortably on his knees beside you. 
"Of course, you will, baby girl."
Bateman was about to lose it at any moment from the way your tight hole was squeezing his dick, and your lascivious moans only encouraged him to fuck you harder and faster. 
"Do you feel that love?" Patrick put his hand on your belly, impaling you relentlessly on his thick cock. "Can you feel my dick hitting your belly? Arrgh-fuck, you're so delicate and fragile ... I'm even afraid of breaking you."
After his brief confession, Bateman took your palm and placed it on your tummy, so you could sense the outline of his huge dick sliding inside you, and that sensation literally made you choke on air. 
"I feel it ... Patrick, I f-feel it ... aaah," you threw your head back, resting it on his sturdy shoulder. "Patrick..."
You mumbled his name over and over as a saving mantra, your eyes now full of tears, and as if that was not enough, his hips began to slam into yours with increasing intensity. For a moment you found yourself fading away from the tremendous sensation of being so fucking full and abused that you couldn't even pronounce a world, only moaning wildly as you were fucking like animals, so ruthless and totally out of control.
"F-Fuck, I'm gonna make you pregnant again and again, mm-my dear wifey," he suddenly lowered his palm down your mound to rub your oversensitive bud, smearing your slick all around your pubic area and causing your legs to tremble frantically. "Shit," he felt you clenching around his dick as you climaxed so abruptly from his rubbing circular movements. He watched you quiver in his arms, your mouth paralysed in a silent cry as he kissed your temple and contemplated: "I wanna see your belly swell with my child ... I bet you'll look so beautiful, ahh-fuck."
Growling, Patrick closed his eyes from the surging ecstasy that soon consumed him, causing his whole body to cramp and his thrusts to become absolutely raw but ragged. As he pumped his fertile seed into your pussy, he didn't stop ramming into you, holding you tightly in his muscular arms until he was spent to the last drop. The feeling of warm cum filling you from the inside was so overwhelming that you didn't have time to be afraid, as if it was destined to happen before you could even think.
‘Just be a good wifey for him,' kept nagging at the back of your mind, your tears falling on your sweaty body as your eyes were wide open, staring at that one spot on the ceiling above with bitter sorrow in your chest.
From now on, you would never belong to yourself again. Not ever.
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itoshiexx · 7 months
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can i dance with your s/o?
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how the blue lock boys react when someone asks to dance with you.
pairings: itoshi rin, itoshi sae, reo mikage x fem!reader (separate) | warnings: jealousy, slight possessiveness, overall fluff, teeny bit suggestive on sae's
notes: hi guys! i wasn't planing on posting anything since i haven't been able to write (studying for the bar and all), but since i reached 300 followers, i thought maybe i could post this lil thing that was in my drafts for a long time lol it's quite different from what i usually do but i hope y'all like it! and tysm for 300!! <3
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Itoshi Rin
the lights of the room flickered around the sparkles in your long dress and practically made you glow. the piece of clothing was beautiful — an italian design rin bought for you specially for that night, where you would accompany him to a charity event. there were hundreds of football players like him in the venue, but rin’s sight could only focus on you. 
a song was playing softly in the background, and he admired you from afar, sitting in the bar along with some of his teammates while you chatted with their girlfriends, who became your friends pretty quickly. that was just how you were, always easy going and approachable, very unlike him. it was easy to be drawn to you like you were the sun, and rin was more than happy to be in your orbit.
then, the song changed to a slow paced tune, and he saw your beautiful eyes turn to him and sparkle just as much as your dress — if not more. the girls you were chatting with came towards their respective boyfriends, but you remained there, just staring, as if knowing it was a lost cause. 
itoshi rin didn’t like to dance. 
and while he was distracted by your orbs, someone decided to talk.
“can i dance with your girlfriend?”
the voice sent chills down his spine, and rin turned to the owner with a harsh glare, scrutinizing the image of none other than itoshi sae. they still had a pretty fucked up relationship, even after rin went pro, and he was not happy to hear what he just heard.
“what the fuck did you say?” his tone came out slowly, a veiled threat.
sae didn’t even blink. “i asked to dance with your girlfriend. you are certainly not doing it, and since i didn’t come with anyone, it would be rude to leave her there. haven’t you learned shit, rin?”
a vein nearly popped in his forehead. it was already bad enough to hear the condescending tone in sae’s voice, but implying he could take better care of you than him? no, that wouldn’t do.
“fuck off, you shitty brother. don’t come near her.”
he stormed off to the dance floor, leaving his shitty brother and his knowing smirk behind, immediately going to your figure. he could tell you were confused, but gave you no time to ask, taking your soft hand in his and dragging you to where the other couples were dancing.
both of his hands found home in your waist, just like he always found home in you. your arms laced his neck by pure reflex, considering you were still very much confused with your boyfriend’s attitude. 
“what happened?”
rin played dumb. “hm? what do you mean? i’m just dancing with my girlfriend.” he shrugged like it was no big deal. 
it really wasn’t. not when you smiled at him like that.
sure, itoshi rin didn’t like to dance. but he loved you, and if dancing would make you happy and keep you away from his shitty brother, he would do it in a heartbeat.
Itoshi Sae
parties were not really sae’s thing. he wasn’t one to socialize with his teammates, and he didn’t feel the need to talk to sponsors or to the media, considering he had a manager to do that. so how he got caught up in one was a true mystery. 
sure, playing for the U-20 national team could be a big deal for a lot of people, but not for sae. he hated japan and all its weak players, and the only reason he agreed to play in the first place was to see project Blue Lock firsthand. he definitely did not sign for a party.
though he supposed he could endure it if you were there. 
the dance floor was crowded, and a pop hit was blasting through the speakers. you were with sae on the bar just a minute ago, but your already tipsy self exclaimed to love this song and the need to dance it, so that’s what you were doing. and fuck, what a sight you were. 
your skimpy dress hugged your body in all the right places, marking the curve of your ass. every time you moved in sync with the beat, swaying your hips, he could feel his breath hitch in his throat, always eager for what was under the fabric. you were breathtaking, and his. 
“hey, genius boy!”
sae grunted when his eyes were forced to leave your frame, and he was not pleased to find oliver aiku by his side, portraying his signature toothy grin. his only acknowledgement was a hum, hoping oliver would take a hint and leave him the fuck alone. 
“nice night, huh?”
sae sighed. apparently, he can’t take a hint.
“sure,” was all he said, turning his eyes back to you. you were still having fun by dancing like there was no tomorrow, and for a moment, sae wanted to smile from the way you were so carefree. he didn’t, though. but maybe something in his stoic demeanor cracked by looking at you, because the guy next to him spoke up.
“whatcha looking at?” oliver followed his sight before sae could fool him, and he felt anger rising when spotting a glimpse of desire in the heterochromatic eyes of his teammate. “oh, wow. what a babe.”
sae narrowed his eyes with an impossibly harsh glare that could make anyone cower. oliver didn’t. “she’s my girlfriend, so back the fuck off.”
“oh! can i dance with your girlfriend? she seems lonely.” the player smirked, seemingly enjoying to tease sae.
“look,” the older itoshi started, unamused. “you should probably know by now that i don’t tolerate bullshit. especially when it comes to her.”
oliver cocked his brow. sae continued, “so if you wanna have a slight chance to win against Blue Lock and not lose your shitty spot in the U-20 team, don’t fucking test me.”
finally, the player raised his hands in surrender, leaving without saying another word. chugging down the rest of his drink, sae made his way towards you, gluing his body behind yours and securing you close with a hand on your waist.
“hey, baby,” he mumbled in your ear. “wanna get out of here?”
Mikage Reo
being the heir of a billionaire corporation was no easy task. although there were some good parts in it, such as the money to do whatever one pleased, reo mostly dreaded everything related to his position. of course, this included the galas thrown by his family. 
these galas were always full of snobby CEO’s and their heirs, trying to secure their spot in the light by arranging a marriage with the Mikage’s son. this part, at least, was solved when reo finally got married to you, and of course enduring hours of these boring parties became a hundred times better with you by his side. 
however, he couldn’t say he was exactly pleased with the way all eyes were on you every time you put on some high couture outfit. you were stunning — reo knew that much, and he always boasted to anyone who could hear about it —, but he couldn’t help the spark of possessiveness that always ignited inside his chest whenever someone else stated this fact. 
such as the old man talking to him. 
“your wife is truly beautiful, mikage. a hidden gem.”
reo could feel his anger rising, jealousy and overprotectiveness becoming one. but he remained calm on the outside, a smiley façade that could effortlessly fool those around him. he couldn’t be rude, considering this geezer was one of the main investors of the mikage corporation. 
“indeed, she is,” he answered through his teeth. the man didn’t seem to notice his gleaming eyes that could very much be homicidal. 
“how long have you been married again?”
“two years.” he took a sip of the champagne glass in his hands. the liquid went down his throat with a burning sensation that made him momentarily forget about the searing rage in the pit of his stomach. 
“oh, to be young again. i wish i could go back and enjoy my youth a little more,” the investor laughed, and reo had to force himself to do the same. his eyes, however, didn’t leave your frame. 
you were graciously talking with three women of high society, distributing kind smiles as if they weren’t as precious as the diamonds in your neck, if not more. reo was well aware that none of the people on that gala deserved the goodness of your heart, but you couldn’t help but be sympathetic towards everyone. maybe that was why you were so adored. he knew for certain it was one of the reasons he loved you so much. 
“do you mind if i dance one song with her?”
fuck. that man was still there. 
“sure,” albeit hesitantly, reo agreed with a forced smile, watching as the investor walked up to you and bowed to ask for a dance. with your usual gentleness, you agreed, taking his hand and going to the middle of the ballroom for a waltz. the mikage could only watch your ethereal form glowing under the candelabrum, eyes softening with the way you were so carefree.
he was glad to have your purity in such a corrupted world.
when the song ended, reo wasted no time in coming to you and taking your hand from the man with a gentlemanly gesture that made you smile. you bid farewell to the investor with a small courtesy, your hand finding your husband’s easily. 
“hey, beautiful.”
“hey, handsome,” you whispered, eyes sparkling. “you were totally holding yourself back, weren’t you?”
you both laughed at the way you could read him so easily. though reo didn’t mind.
“hell, yes. i was dying to drag you back to my arms.”
it was where you belonged, anyway.
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© 2023 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.
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seuonji · 8 months
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彡on a variety show w your svt bf!
๑ idol!svt x idol!yn secret relationship series! no storyline, just fun.
one ๑ two ๑ three ๑ four ๑ five ๑ six ๑ seven #mlist
notes ๑ variety show 'my alcohol diary' has mentions of drinking & getting drunk.
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your group plays esports (valorant, leave of legends, apex, etc) against svt as a hybe special!
wonwoo gives you a look when you both sit at the end of your respective tables, you on the right, him on the left making you two sort of beside each other.
as you both play, the host points out that your skills are extremely good. your group member brings up the fact that recently you’ve been spending a lot more time gaming in your free time to which wonwoo rests his head on his hand to cover his smile knowing that he’s the reason you’ve been gaming more. the host adds on that your play style is a bit similar to wonwoo giving both groups chills. “perhaps it’s what’s adapted after a long time of playing,” you calmly respond.
on the other hand with soonyoung— he keeps messing up, at one point he shot one of his members, “the keyboard isn’t following what i want to do.” and you’d fr just face palm yourself. the host mentions, “even yn is getting tired of your antics.” “what antics!? im really trying.” you hope he can make it when technology evolves further. after filming you meet up with him. “wasn’t i cool earlier?” he asks. “i think my baby cousin can beat you.”
jeonghan would be such a menace in this scenario cause omg he would target you. like if he spots you he will not stop shooting and chasing until he gets you— your group member watching all of this go down would try to shoot jeonghan yet somehow he’s dodging and still hunting you down— “let me breathe!?” jeonghan shouts at your member. “you’re not letting ME breathe?” you shout back.
random play dance! (random song is played and you have to dance the correct choreography)
beforehand you'd ask seungkwan to help you with the dances but he was not about to help you out while you were in a different group! until in one of the rounds where you looked lost, seungkwan comes to the front and dances clearly as a way to help you. "you're helping the other groups! get to the back," competitive seungcheol would shout. "sorry i got excited," seungkwan laughs it off. being fr tho how does that man know that many choreographies.
i imagine seokmin/mingyu would whisper to you, "i got you, just follow me," and then he would be one of the first to be eliminated.
vernon keeps on looking at you and copying your dance— you can’t help but laugh at his facial expressions when he doesn’t know the dance but also somehow he’s surviving.
wherever you are in the arena, chan always ends up beside you.
youngji's program 'my alcohol diary'
you’d go alone to promote your groups album. your episode was relatively short— they covered it up with 'yn got drunk super fast' but actually, whether you have a high tolerance or not, in the end when you got drunk, you just kept on gushing about your boyfriend. (bf can be any member)
when youngji asked you to teach her the dance of your song you went through it step by step until a certain part, “oh soonyoung choreographed this part and i gave it as a suggestion and it made the cut to the official choreo,” you said with a big smile. // “my boyfriend likes this part,” you danced the bit then nonchalantly continued to teach youngji but she’s standing, there still in shock of everything she’s heard.
after filming, your boyfriend would pick you up and take care of you till you sober up.
the next day youngji would message and reveal something to you.
yn: im so sorry for the short episode run-
youngji: if it makes you feel better, seungcheol/soonyoung/mingyu/minghao talked about you way more than you did about them.
chinese whisper game as a mini game (there’s a given word/phrase and the word is passed on through all players, last players needs to shout it out word for word)
you’re standing in front of jeonghan/minghao and he keeps on blowing into your ear before he starts actually saying the given phrase—
but if it was the noise cancellation version (have to read lips or body actions to get the word/phrase)
seungcheol pouted at you when you couldn’t understand what he was saying which a lot of viewers found weird since he would usually only do that with his members.
you almost hug jeonghan/joshua/wonwoo when he got the word correct—
jun/wonwoo/jihoon keeps on giving you high-fives every round.
you consider choking soonyoung when he can’t get the word correct for shit.
you and minghao/chan kept on bickering over the way he would execute the word. the staff and your members would be more interested on how you guys fight rather than the word being finally passed over to the last person.
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andvys · 1 month
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Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.
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Chapter one ⭐︎ Waiting Room
Warnings: slight angst, mentions of death and injuries, mention of physical assault (physical fight), head injuries, mention of bruises and scars, mention of Eddie's almost death. pining. allusions to unrequited love. enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort. lots and lots of tension. slow burn. also, instead of writing summaries, I will name each chapter after a song that fits the vibe of each chapter. Also, mentioning this again, her nickname has nothing to do with her hair color.
Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader
Word count: 6.9k
Author's note: @hellfire--cult you know I will mention you in every chapter, so don't even try to fight me. Thanks for coming up with all these ideas with me mwah! — This is only the beginning, guys. This story will progress into something much more intense after chapter four or five, I can’t wait to share this one with you and get into the good and spicy stuff hehe!
Read the prologue first!
series masterlist ⭐︎ next chapter
Your body was aching and everything inside of you was screaming at you to not open your eyes just yet, you felt as though you were being dragged out of it. All your limbs were hurting, your skin aching, your head was pounding. You could not begin to describe the pain even if you tried, it was unlike anything you had felt before. Your memory was lost, at least that’s what it felt like for the first few seconds. 
Then they started coming back slowly. 
From the gate in the water, to Steve being pulled under.
From the bats trying to bite chunks of his skin to you doing everything in your power to save him. 
From the creepy old Creel house, to Max offering herself as the bait. 
As pictures of her flashed in your mind, you suddenly started to register the smell – the disinfectant, the disgusting smell of hospital. You heard the beeping of the machines next to you, and you felt the wires attached to your body. 
You tried to press your lips together, though tears burned in your eyes when the crack in your lip stung. 
You moved your hand as you slowly opened your eyes to bright lights shining into the room you were in. You squinted them, trying to adjust to the light and the vision in front of you, it took you a moment, everything was still so blurry. 
From the corner of your eye, you could see a mop of dark curls. You slowly moved your head to the left side, restraining a groan when you felt a flash of pain in your head. You blinked a few times, taking in the sight of a bruised and battered Eddie, who was looking down at his rings, twisting and playing with them nervously. 
“Eddie?” You said and only then you felt how dry your throat had felt, how raspy your voice had sounded and how much it was aching. 
You did not notice the movement on your right side.
He straightened up as he lifted his head so suddenly, eyes wide as he looked into yours. Relief flashed his face and a smile appeared on his lips.
“Oh thank god.. Hi sweetheart.. slept well?” 
You stared at him for a good long minute, trying to figure out what had happened to him. By the developing scars on his face and the white bandage around his neck, you had an idea of what had gotten to him. 
Was he on the brink of death just like you had been? 
By the look in his eyes, you could tell that he was. 
“Huh… I’m not dead?” 
He shook his head, eyes filled with relief, “gladly no.”
You rolled your eyes at his words, “well, shucks,” you sighed, like you didn’t fight for your life back at the Creel house. 
Eddie sighed but chuckled, understanding your dark humor better than anyone else – despite only knowing you for a few days. 
A cough finally fell from your lips when you tried to sit up, though losing the strength to, you fell back again.
Eddie instantly reached for the water bottle on the table next to you, pouring some into the plastic cup before he carefully placed it into your hand, trying not to touch the bruises on your knuckles. 
You thanked him with a small smile before you lifted the cup to your lips with shaky hands. 
“Careful,” Eddie whispered as he watched you.
You nodded and closed your eyes as you took a sip of the water, welcoming the feeling of the coldness in your dry throat, you took a few sips before you handed him back the cup. 
“How long was I out?”
The sigh from your right side startled you a little, with furrowed brows, you turned to look only to be caught off guard. 
Steve Harrington.
With his arms crossed, he stood by the window, staring at you with an unreadable look on his face. He took you in, eyes glaring at the wounds on your skin. 
“You had to have surgery. There–... There was a deep concussion in your head and a vessel popped. If they didn’t do it quickly you..” He could not bring himself to finish that sentence, he clenched his jaw and looked down at his hands. 
Your heart fluttered at the sight of him. 
Even in this current state, you could not help but smirk cheekily, though it dropped the moment it appeared when you suddenly could feel all the bruises on your face. Your eyes watered and a wince fell from your lips. 
Steve lifted his head at the sound. 
And Eddie straightened up. 
“Don’t move your face too much, sweets.. It’s…” He stopped as he felt anger and sadness hit him all at once. 
He did not want to tell you how bad it really was – how your skin was bruised, how puffy your eyes were. 
You closed your eyes again and laid your head back. 
“Ah, he got me good, didn’t he?” 
Steve swallowed harshly. 
He pushed away the pain from seeing you like this and cleared his throat. He licked his lips and leaned closer. 
“Yeah, but you got him better.” 
You frowned at his words, not quite understanding. 
Eddie glared at him, not knowing how you would take the news so soon. 
“Huh?”
Steve ignored the look in Eddie’s eyes, he kept his on you. 
“Jason’s dead. He fell onto broken wood… that impaled him.”
Oh. 
Flashes of the night came in a blur. 
The fight. 
His rough hands as he hit you, over and over again, as he held you down and wrapped his merciless fingers around your throat, aiming for the kill. 
You felt your heart beating a little faster at the memory, how scared you were when he pointed a gun at Lucas before you stepped in between them, knowing that he could have shot you, right then and there. How much it hurt when he sliced your cheek open with the stupid ring on his finger as he delivered the first punch, how close to death you were when he choked you. You saw the look in his eyes, the rage, as he called you a traitor for protecting ‘the killer’ of your friend. Tears of frustration and anger fell from your eyes when you almost lost the fight – Lucas’s screams as he called out to Max urged you to fight back, and you did, you used every last bit of your strength to throw him off of you and pushed him away. 
Pushed him into his death. 
You do not feel bad. – Max could have died because of him. He would have killed Lucas. He wanted to kill you. 
“Good,” you murmured as you blinked the tears away that formed in your eyes again, “he was going to kill the kids.. He had a gun.. He had a gun, Steve.”
It was almost weird to hear you call him by his name. 
He instantly rushed to your side and reached for your hand, something that neither of you would ever think back to again. 
“Yeah, and you saved them. Listen, you can’t talk much, you need to heal, Blondie.”
Right. The ache in your neck was not from the lack of water, it was from the bruises, from almost being strangled to death.
“Everything else is being taken care of,” he said as he squeezed your hand. 
You ignored the feeling in your chest and turned to look at Eddie. 
“And you?” 
“Well, you are looking at a free man! A free man that was targeted by Victor Creel himself after he got out of Pennhurst. I trespassed into his home many times and he had a vendetta against me or some shit.”
You felt relief rushing through you. 
Though, you saw the hurt behind his eyes, knowing he had to lie about seeing Creel killing Chrissy. 
He did not want to put the blame on somebody else, he knew what it had felt like to be accused of something he hadn’t done – but there was no other option, he had no choice, he wasn’t given one. People of power had told him what to do. In return, he got his name cleared and had been given a good amount of money for ‘the troubles’. Money that he could live off from for the rest of his life.
“I’m glad you’re okay, Eddie.” 
He smiled at your words, nodding. 
“What happened to you?” 
He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Steve. 
“He played hero when he shouldn’t have.” 
Eddie rolled his eyes at him. 
Hero. There wasn’t only one hero that night. 
Almost in panic, you straightened up. 
“Where’s Max?” 
Steve put his hand on yours again, giving it a pat as he tried to calm you down, though all he gave you was shivers running down your spine from his touch. 
“Healing. He broke one arm and one leg, but she is awake. Robin is with her, she’s been waiting for you to wake up.”
You breathed out a sigh of relief, the weight in your shoulders fell just like that. You felt like crying, but you wouldn’t do it here, in front of them. 
“And everyone else?”
You took in the sight of him, properly this time. 
There were dark circles beneath his eyes, tiredness in his face.
You didn’t know what prompted you to do this, maybe it was the high anesthetic in your system or a spur of the moment – but you lifted your hand, reached out to him to graze your fingertips against his neck, on the mark where the tail of a demobat almost strangled him. 
He did not pull away, but he stared at you with wide eyes, blushing at your action.  
“I-I’m fine.. Everyone else is too,” he said and cleared his throat. 
A scoff on your left pulled you back and you removed your hand from Steve’s neck to look over at Eddie. 
“Speak for yourself, I have like forty stitches all over my body.”
How he managed to joke about that while he was still in so much pain? You did not know. But then again, you were just the same. 
He spared you the details when he began to talk about what happened in the upside down. Steve did not want to revive the story again, seemingly not handling the thought of his new friend dying so cruelly. He left and told you that he’d come back later. 
As Eddie was telling you about the swarm of bats, you felt the pain in your chest, just like when you had found out about Chrissy, just like when you had found out about him. 
Eddie was a new addition to your life, you two are barely even friends, though you do not know how you would handle the news of him not making it. 
“I’m happy you’re here.”
Eddie’s eyes softened, though a smirk tugged at his lips. 
“Going soft on me now, sweets?” He chuckled, surprised to hear such words from you. “Or are you still on drugs? Where’s the little ol’ meanie, I kinda liked her.” 
A pained chuckle fell from your lips. 
“She’ll be back in no time, don’t you worry.”
Your laughter died down when you thought of the way he looked at you. 
Judging by all the pain you were still feeling, you knew that you looked awful. 
“How bad do I look? Be honest, please.”
Eddie shook his head with a pained look on his face. He looked down for a moment. His eyes flashed with anger and sadness. 
“Bad, sweetheart. When we found out that Jason did this to you.. We wanted to revive him only to kill him again,” he said angrily. “Steve wanted to rip his corpse apart, that’s what Robin told me.”
For a moment, you felt cheerful and your eyes had softened. 
For a moment you had thought that he cared. 
But Eddie quickly pulled you back into reality after shattering that illusion. 
“He saw what he did to Lucas, it’s not as bad as you but.. fuck. He was going to kill Max too.”
Steve was angry at Jason because of the teens, not because of what he did to you, never because of you. He wouldn’t have cared if you bleed out on the ground in the Creel house. He wouldn’t have cared if you died. 
You focused on Eddie, on the anger in his features – it made your eyes soften, knowing that you found another friend, one that you should probably protect from the curse that you are. 
“Shouldn’t you be resting?”
“I can walk now..”
You frown, tilting your head at him before you look down at yourself. 
“How long have I been out?” You asked when you realized that Steve had never answered your question. 
“You’ve been out for a whole week, sweetheart.”
Your eyes widened, you dug your hands into the mattress and pushed yourself up. 
“Whoa, whoa!” Eddie raised his hands as he tried to stop you from sitting up. 
“W-What, oh my god, my sister must be worried!” 
He put his hand on your arm, gently – you had noticed it before, how careful he had been to touch you, like he was afraid of hurting you, like you were something fragile. 
“Yeah, about that–” He never got to finish his sentence as the door burst open and your sister stormed inside the room. 
Your eyes widened at the sight of her, not because you were surprised or confused to see her here, but because it’s been two months since you had last seen her. Besides the concerned look on her face, she was glowing – maybe it was the pregnancy or maybe it was just the fact that she has been much happier since leaving Hawkins behind. 
“Hi hi, honey! Are you okay?” 
That day she had the same concern in her voice as she does now while she talks your ear off about how important it is to go to all your checkups at the Hospital. She is calling every day, just to remind you – and to check on you. 
You are fine. Just fine. 
You survived an attack, you survived surgery, you survived. You made a good recovery and you are getting better each day. Besides, Eddie and Max are on your back about the check-ups just as much, you have no choice but to go to them. 
You’re holding the telephone between your ear and your shoulder as you finish touching up your make up, applying some gloss to your lips before you pick up the brush one more time and carefully go through your hair, trying not to hurt yourself, your head starts hurting at every slightest touch and it’s beginning to frustrate you. 
“I’m telling you, this baby is going to be a little runner.” 
“Is he still kicking?” 
Your sister huffs before she laughs, “he is kicking all the time, sis.”
You smile as you take the telephone and walk towards your window, leaning against the wall as you wait for the Impala to pull up in your driveway. 
“I can’t wait to meet him. I never held a baby before.”
“Well, you’re about to – give it a few more weeks and you’ll turn into an auntie in no time.”
“I am already an auntie,” you chuckle. “How could you forget little Luna? She was your first child.” 
You remember how devastated you were when she took the black cat with her as she moved out of your parents house and left the town, for good. You begged her to leave the cat with you, put on your best puppy face but she wouldn’t have it, it was her cat, after all. 
“Right, sorry sorry.” She laughs. 
You hear rustling in the back and a moment later, a loud crunch sounds through the phone. You don’t have to ask to know what she’s eating. Chips. She is always eating salted chips, now even more so than before. 
“What are you doing today?” She asks with a mouthful. 
Looking down at your outfit, you place your palm on your new denim shorts before you slide your fingers into the pocket. 
“I’m going to a barbecue in a few,” you say. “Max basically forced me to come.”
“Wait, you’re not driving yourself, are you?”
You roll your eyes, shaking your head as a huff falls from your lips. 
You’re not allowed to drive, not yet. Your vision gets blurry sometimes, and you get light headed very easily. Your doctor said that it would pass, but it’s been two weeks since you had been released from the hospital and it hasn’t passed yet. 
Jason truly did a number on you. 
“No, don’t worry. My friends would kill me if I even tried–”
“Don’t say that word, y/n,” she cuts you off with a stern voice. “But I agree with them.”
You snort. 
“Anyways, Eddie is picking me up.”
Silence follows for a good thirty seconds before she continues eating her chips. You can practically hear her thoughts, you already know what she’s about to say next. 
“Eddie. He was the cute one with the long hair, right?” She asks, innocently. “The one who brought you chocolate and magazines?” 
Rolling your eyes at her teasing voice, you push yourself away from the wall when you see the black Impala pulling up to your house. 
“Don’t even,” you sigh, scrunching up your face in annoyance. 
She has been waiting, waiting for years for you to finally have a crush on someone, to fall in love, go on dates and get a boyfriend. 
Though, unlike her, you weren’t exactly popular – maybe it was your own fault, but that’s beside the point. Your sister loved having crushes and going on dates. She loved falling in love. 
You? Not so much. 
Love has only brought you pain. 
And you never cared much for dating – not even for fun. You don’t mind being on your own, loving someone from afar and in secret, for probably the rest of your life. 
“What’s wrong with him? Isn’t he super sweet?” She asks. “He brought you chocolate, sat by your side and you seem to like him–”
“Yeah, as a friend.” 
“Oh,” she sighs, humming. “Yeah, you never liked the nice guys, did you?” 
She got you there. Well, kind of. He is nice. He is nice to everyone, but to you. 
“What about the other guy then? What was his name again… Steve?” 
Just the mention of his name has shivers running down your spine, your heart fluttering and your skin crawling in tingles. 
You feel your cheeks glowing but you roll your eyes at the stupid giddiness that you feel, everytime you think of him.
“Mhmm, Steve.” 
“Huh.” You could practically hear the smirk in her voice. “What about him?”
If she only knew. 
Eddie honks the car horn, giving you the perfect excuse to hang up the phone. You walk back to your dresser, putting the phone down. 
“Anyways, I love you, sis. But a very hungry Eddie is waiting for me in the driveway.”
You know that he is hungry, he is always hungry, always eating away all the snacks and stealing leftover fries from everyone’s plates, no matter how much he had eaten already.
“Have fun with uh Steve! Love you, mwah, bye!”
You roll your eyes once again as you hang up the phone. 
Steve and Fun in one sentence just doesn’t sound right. That guy would rather stay miserable for the rest of his life than even try to have fun with you. 
He can’t stand you. 
And well, you can’t stand him either. – At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself, all while knowing that it’s very much a lie, but how else would you stay sane?
You quickly make your way down the stairs, reaching for your keys and your sunglasses on the way out. You skip down the porch steps. You tap the hood of his car before you get into the passenger seat. 
Eddie is already grinning at you, waving his fingers at you. 
“Hey sexy.” 
His brows shoot up and a smirk tugs at his lips. He playfully eyes you up and down. 
You close the door and sit back, greeting him with a mocking smirk. 
“Hello to you too, sweets,” he says in a low and deep voice – one that almost has you laughing. 
“Oh, I wasn’t greeting you,” you say, nonchalantly. “I was talking to Arwen,” you gesture to his beloved, new car, that he of course named after a Lord of the rings character. 
“But, hi Eddie.”
A loud laugh leaves his lips, his brown eyes twinkle with amusement. He grabs the gearstick, shaking his head at you. 
“You ready for some heavy metal heaven?” 
You put on your sunglasses and fasten the seatbelt after he points at you with a stern look on his face. 
“Sure,” you snort, knowing that the drive to the Sinclair house will be anything but uneventful. When Eddie isn’t singing and bobbing his head to the music, he’s shouting over it, telling you a story that he can’t wait to get off his chest. 
Your friendship with him is something you didn’t see coming. You tried to push him away, knowing how your friendships with people you care about usually end, but he wouldn’t have it. He kept coming back, just like Robin, just like the teens. 
You don’t understand why. 
What’s there about you that they want you around so bad? 
You’re never in a happy mood, you’re never entertaining, you don’t bring anything into the friend group. You don’t get along with most people – by most people you only mean Steve Harrington. 
You wonder if it’s because you almost died and they’d feel guilty to exclude you after helping them or if Max forces them to accept you into a friend group you never even wanted to be part of. 
“How’s your head doing?” Eddie asks as he drives on Maple Street. 
“Good, s’not hurting anymore.” You lie. 
He knows. 
Eddie sees the way you react to bright lights, the way you scrunch up your nose a little whenever the sun shines into your eyes or the way you rest your hand against the nearest wall when you seem to get dizzy. 
“When’s your next check-up?” 
He sounds just as concerned as your sister does, it makes you laugh a little. 
Who would have thought that Eddie could be so caring? 
“Tomorrow, 3pm.”
“Want me to drive you?”
You shake your head, “no, it’s fine. I’ll take the bus.”
He scoffs, shooting you a glare as he pulls up into the driveway, parking his car behind the burgundy BMW. 
“You think I’ll let you take the bus? I’ll drive you and then we’ll get burgers.” 
You unbuckle your seatbelt, chuckling as you turn to him, “okay, dad.” 
“Shut up,” he grumbles at you with a glare. 
Laughing at the look on his face, you get out of the car and make your way over to the house. Eddie bumps his shoulder into yours, tilting his head down, he looks at your heart shaped sunglasses. 
“Where’d you get these?” He asks, pointing at them. 
“Macy’s, why? You want some too?” 
“What if I do?” He asks, ringing the doorbell. 
“Then we’ll get you some pink ones.” 
A smirk tugs at his lips, “hell yeah.” 
Robin opens the door with an excited smile on her face, grinning when she sees you. 
“Hi!” She beams at you. “Come on in.” She steps aside, lifting her arm as she waits for you both to step inside. 
You walk in first, and as you do, Robin pulls you into a hug, greeting you once more. 
“Hey,” you mumble as you slowly lift your arms to hug her back. 
Eddie chuckles at the confused frown on your face, he follows inside and closes the door. 
“C’mon, Steve is already bitching about you two being late.” 
And just like that, your heart jumps a little. You hate yourself a little in these moments. 
Pushing your sunglasses up on your head, you and Eddie follow her out into the garden. 
You can hear the music outside, laughter and Steve’s stern voice as he scolds Dustin, as always. The smell of smoke lingers in the air and as you step outside, you catch sight of Steve, standing behind the grill, with one hand on his hip and the other pointing at Dustin with the grill tong. 
His hair is messy, a spit curl falling before his eyes. He is wearing his black sunglasses, green khaki pants, a gray tank top,– oh god. This is going to be a long day. 
You swallow as you tear your eyes away from him, looking around with squinted eyes, the sun is harsh and you instantly put your sunglasses back on.
“Are the Sinclair’s around?” You ask, meaning Lucas’s and Erica’s parents. 
Robin shakes her head, “no, they’re out in Indianapolis until tomorrow, Steve is probably gonna stay the night.”
You nod. 
You hear your name being called and you turn to your right to see Lucas waving at you with a smile on his face. He is sitting on the lounger Max is laying on, still with casts on her leg and her arm. She pushes herself up on her elbows, looking in your direction, a smile appears on her face and she greets you just as kindly as her boyfriend did. 
Robin leaves your side, walking towards Dustin who plays with his new, portable Stereo. 
As you pass by Steve, he turns around to greet Eddie with a smile and you with nothing more than a nod and low grumble, “Blondie.” 
Whenever he seems moody or pissed off, you feel the urge to make it even worse. And you do, every single time. 
You walk around him and look at the meat on the grill, whining.
“I don’t eat meat.”
He turns to you, eyes growing wide at your words. He didn’t know. And he already feels guilty for not asking you first. He pushes his sunglasses up into his hair as an apologetic look crosses his face. 
“Fuck… I-I didn’t know–” he stops when he notices the smug look on your face and hears Eddie chuckle over his shoulder. 
He should’ve known. 
With a groan, he rolls his eyes and pushes his sunglasses back down as he turns back to the grill. 
“Hey Eddie!” Dustin calls out to him, already grinning at Steve. “Check this out!” 
“Don’t you dare, Dustin–” Robin gets cut off by a scream as it blasts from the stereo. She smacks him lightly on his head, yelling at him to turn it off. 
Eddie laughs loudly, leaving yours and Steve’s side. 
“Jesus christ,” Steve mumbles, scrunching his face up at the music. “That shrimp has been doing that all day. Eddie really is a bad influence.” 
“Aw, poor Steve,” you pout at him, “are you mad that you can’t listen to Madonna?” 
He scoffs at you, though he doesn’t say anything and focuses on the sizzling burgers as he turns them over. 
You press your lips together, ignoring the tugging in your chest or the feeling in your stomach as you use his distraction to look at him. 
It’s only nearing the end of April, but it already feels like the beginning of summer. Steve’s skin is already sun kissed. You hide your eyes behind your sunglasses as you ogle him. Taking in the sight of his veiny hands, his arms that have just the perfect amount of muscle, his chest hair that you always tease him for, the silver chain around his neck. 
You swallow. 
Cursing inwardly when you feel your stomach fluttering. 
He turns to face you again, totally catching you and your staring. 
Fuck. 
“Like what you see?” He smirks down at you. 
You bite the inside of your cheeks, trying not to blush under his gaze. 
He is feeling smug. Not because he likes you staring at him, but because he’s been waiting for a moment to embarrass you with something. 
He expects you to stutter, to step back and answer his question with a shaky and squeaky voice, because that is what he must be used to, but you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. You take a step closer to him, biting your lip as you eye him up and down. 
You can tell that it catches him off guard a little, but unlike you, he isn’t blushing. 
“Yeah, actually,” you whisper and put your hand on his shoulder as you lean closer to the small table where he left his coke. You wrap your hand around the can, it’s cold against your palm and you hum in satisfaction as you raise it up to your lips, taking a sip of his drink. “Mmmh, perfect.” 
You turn around, and walk away without another word, leaving him huffing and glaring at you. 
You fail to notice or feel his eyes on you, the way they rake down your body, the way he licks his lips before he forces his eyes away from you. 
You greet Lucas and Max properly, hugging the latter before you take a seat on the lounger next to her, choosing the one that is half in the shadow, so you can hide your face from the sun. 
You easily fall into a conversation with the teens. You had always been close with Max, even before you were dragged into all of this. 
Being friends with her, also brought Lucas into your life. Unlike Dustin, who is always somehow trying to get on your nerves by teasing you with crushes that don’t exist or annoying you like a younger brother would do, Lucas is always very kind. 
“I can’t wait for you to get your car back.” 
Chuckling at Lucas’s words, you take off your sunglasses and put them down beside you. 
“Why’s that?” 
“So you can drive us around again,” he shrugs as he flashes you a smile. 
“Are Steve and Eddie not good enough for you?” You snort. 
Max scoffs loudly, rolling her eyes as she turns to you. 
“Steve is always whining about something!” 
“Yeah, and Eddie drives like a maniac,” Lucas groans, throwing his hands up. 
Max purses her lips, looking down at her cast. 
“Yeah, like your girlfriend,” you laugh, glancing at Lucas. “I wonder who will teach her how to drive properly.” 
“First of all, I don’t drive like a maniac,” says Max. “Second, why don’t you teach me how to drive?” 
You raise your brows at her, shaking your head, “sorry girl, but I am not a good teacher.” 
“But you’re like a big sister to me, you’re supposed to teach me,” she teases, though she looks at you with her best puppy eyes. “Besides, we can take Billy’s car.”
Shaking your head at her, you lay your head back and close your eyes, “don’t even try, Max. We’ll both end up in a ditch, we barely made it out last time.” 
She snorts at your words while Lucas looks between the two of you with disapproval on his face. 
“I’m starting to think that neither of you should ever drive again.” 
“I actually agree with you,” Robin chimes in as she joins the three of you. “I’ve heard of Max’s driving skills and uh… you lady,” she points at you, moving your legs to the side as she takes a seat on your lounder, “are danger in person.” 
“Me?” You gasp, putting your hand on your chest. 
“Yeah, you!” 
Steve watches you from afar, ignoring the heavy metal music and the curly heads behind him, who are going crazy over a song he just can’t find a liking to. 
He watches you – the way you crack a smile and shake your head with an amused look on your face. 
He watches you talk to the teens and to his best friend, easily falling into conversations. He rarely sees you like this – smiling and carefree. You’re usually always tense, annoyed and wearing a permanent frown on your face. Mostly around him. 
Steve will never know what it’s like to have a normal conversation with you, to see you smiling at him, not in a teasing way, in a real way. He is not sure if he ever even saw a real smile on your face – not even the one you are wearing now is real. 
But, why does he even care? You two have never gotten along, you hated each other, at first glance. 
With a sigh, he turns off the grill. He carries the tray filled with food over to where everyone is sitting, motioning for Eddie and Dustin to follow. 
Steve walks past you, not paying attention to how close he is to you, he accidentally bumps you in the head with the corner of the tray. He doesn’t even notice that he did – not until, you duck your head down and raise your hand to touch the side of your head. 
Max snaps her head up at him with a glare on her face. Lucas freezes when he sees how angry she is. 
He looks down at you, to see you looking up at him already. 
“I’m sorry..” He murmurs. 
You don’t speak, instead you look up at him with big eyes and a pained look on your face. 
“Oh come on, I barely even touched you,” he says, nervously. 
Eddie and Robin glance at each other, confused and worried. 
He rolls his eyes at you, knowing that this is another one of your little games that you always play, whenever you get bored. 
“Are you fucking with me again?”
Max shoots out of her seat, almost falling over due to the cast on her leg, her cheeks grow red in anger as her eyes burn into Steve. 
“Her head! You hit her head, you stupid idiot!” She points at him with rage in her voice. 
Steve’s eyes widen as deep guilt rushes through him, he instantly drops the tray on the table before he crouches down in front of you, shakily laying his palm on your shoulder as Max continues to curse at him. 
He wasn’t thinking. He didn’t think of that. 
“S-Shit,” he mumbles, looking at you apologetically. 
How could he forget? The doctor told you how sensitive you would be at every slightest touch to your head, how every slightest bump could cause nausea, dizziness or even a migraine. He was there, he heard him say it loud and clearly, yet he forgot.
Only now does he notice the hurt in your eyes as you place your palm over your ear – your ear that is ringing, for a moment it feels as though you’ve been pulled under water, and still you hear Max yelling at Steve. 
It’s not his fault, it was an accident. 
“Max! It wasn’t his fault, he didn’t do it on purpose! J-Just fuck…” You curse at the pain, not even recognizing your own voice for a moment. Who would’ve thought that you would be this sensitive? You feel his hand on your shoulder, maybe it eases the pain a little, or maybe it’s just the comfort that you feel from only his touch. 
“I-I’m gonna get you some ice,” Steve mumbles and rushes into the house, with Eddie following close behind. 
He throws his sunglasses on the counter and huffs in frustration as he tugs at his hair. He opens the freezer and gets an ice pack out. 
“Steve–”
“Fuck, Eddie. I didn’t know, I thought she was fucking with me again,” he stammers, wrapping the icepack into a cloth. “She always does this a-and I wasn’t thinking of the fucking injury.”
Steve is cursing at himself and at Jason who caused all of this, who did this to you. 
Eddie takes a step closer to him, placing his hand on his shoulder, trying to calm his friend down. 
“Steve,” he sighs but he won’t look at him. “You didn’t know, i-it’s just a migraine, nothing else–”
“Nothing else?” Steve scoffs, frowning at Eddie. 
How could this be nothing else? He caused you pain with the slightest touch, something that reminded you of what you had been through, only a few weeks back. And he might have just triggered even more than a migraine, he might have triggered some thoughts to come back that you tried to not think of. 
He rushes back out to you. 
When you see him, you are already reaching for the ice pack, waving your hand at him to give it to you but he pulls it back, not handing it to you. 
You huff in annoyance, looking at him in disbelief. 
Max is standing with a hand on her hip, extending her arm as well as she glares at him in annoyance. 
Lucas and Dustin glance at each other, like they are afraid to move or even say anything as they quietly eat their food. 
“Lego head, give me the ice pack–”
He startles you a little by sitting down right behind you, “where do I press?” He asks. 
You’re taken aback by his words and his action, you’re taken aback by his touch. 
“Huh?”
“Where do I press the ice pack?” He asks again, breathing down your neck. 
You glance up at Max, she raises her eyebrows at you. Normally, she is the one who helps you, sometimes it’s Eddie or Robin, but Steve? Steve never helped you. 
She eyes Steve and the look in his eyes, the guilt and the pain from hurting someone when normally, he tries to do everything in his power to protect people, even the ones that he doesn’t like. 
With a sigh, she slowly sits down. 
Despite the pain that is pulsating in your head, you feel shivers running down your spine when Steve moves your hair to the side, his fingertips grazing your skin. 
“Where?”
“I uh–... here,” you mumble, quietly as you point to the spot where it hurts the most. 
“Okay,” he whispers and scoots even closer to you, he presses the ice pack against the back of your head. 
You sigh and relax a little, closing your eyes as you welcome the coldness. 
Your heart flutters in your chest when he presses his free hand on your shoulder, touching you gently. 
“Max, you should eat something,” Robin says, trying to smile at the angry teen. 
“Yeah, you’re gonna heal faster if you eat a burger,” Eddie grins, trying to ease the tension as he hands her the plate. 
“A burger will help me heal, really?” She scrunches her face up but grabs the plate, nonetheless. 
“Yeah, actually. It’ll give you some of the strength back,” Dustin winks at her before he takes a bite of his burger. 
She snorts, shaking her head at them. 
You listen to your friends chatter as you keep your eyes closed. Tilting your head to the side, you lean back slightly, – wishing you could just lean into him. You can sense how tense he is, you are almost certain that you can hear his thoughts, how he is cursing at himself for this, for hurting someone – even if it’s just you. 
“Stop stressing about it, Harrington. It’s nothing,” you sigh, trying to ease some of his tension. 
He rolls his eyes, shaking his head, “You and Eddie, I swear if you keep saying this is nothing..” He huffs in frustration. 
Not only does he hate all of this – he also hates the feeling of your soft skin beneath his touch, the smell of your perfume, the smell of your body wash that he is close enough to smell – and fuck, does it smell good, good enough to make his stomach feel all weird again. 
You try to chuckle, though he can tell that it’s pained. 
“What, you worried about me, Lego head? Thought I didn’t affect your life at all?” You ask smugly, as though it’s a joke to you. 
Your words feel like a punch to his gut, even though he was the one who said these words to you, it hurts for some reason, because maybe, these words aren’t true in the slightest. 
You might not be someone important to him, you might not be special to him. 
Yet it doesn’t change the feeling he had felt in his gut when he found out that you were on the brink of death, that night. When he saw you in the hospital room hours after your surgery, how lost and empty he had felt when he saw the state you were in. How he sat beside you for hours before the nurses finally kicked him out and told him to go home and rest. 
He clenches his jaw.
“Yes, I’m worried,” he huffs. “So shut up because you will make it worse, Blondie.” He says with full expectation to hear some smartass comment back from you. 
But you stay quiet, fully quiet. 
You open your eyes and you look down at your hands in sadness. 
You wish he didn’t say that to you. You wish he kept the hate comments instead, that he left you with the idea of hating you completely, not showing an ounce of worry towards you. Because this is ruining you. The act of kindness is completely destroying you, and he doesn’t even know. He doesn’t feel it either. 
You really are hopeless. 
>> next chapter
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authorhjk1 · 4 months
Text
Surviving NNN
Part Six: Lost
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Karina rests her head against the shower wall. The warm water hits her back and shoulders, before cascading down her frame. She presses her cheek against the cold tiles as she tries to make herself climax. Her right hand is inbetween her legs, while the left is planted against the wall.
She was in a constant state of horniness throughout this month, knowing that her boyfriend is living together with three of her friends. Karina tried not to touch herself, but she has finally reached her braking point. And what broke her? As you expected, the song about your night together makes Karina's eyes roll to the back of her head as she gets herself off in the hotel room shower.
Her moans are not audible underneath the shower. But her shaking body is more evidence one needs to figure out what's going on. Your mini album just came out. Because it's a small one and not long after your last comeback, there is no MV. Partially because it would be weird to shoot one, if the woman in it is not Karina.
As soon as she heard the song, your girlfriend couldn't help herself any longer. She missed your touch over the last weeks, her mind drawn to you whenever she is not completely busy.
Karina cums on her own fingers, thinking about that night. Thinking about the three girls that are with you. Thinking about the first day of December.
Two days before:
You look at Minju, at the screen of your TV, and back to Minju.
"What is going on?"
You swear you have never seen her cheeks turn this pink. Her eyes are darker than usual, while they avoid your gaze. Her right hand is underneath a blanket, while her left is playing nervously with its hem.
"This-This is not what it looks like."
She closes her eyes, knowing you wouldn't belive her. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. She was supposed to seduce you. Not get caught by you, while having half of your TV remote stuffed inside her needy snatch.
"I-I just got myself a glass of water and stopped the video. I was about to play it now."
"But why are you watching my stuff?"
She does look suspicious to you.
"I just watched Dreamcatcher's new comeback and this was next on the algorithm."
"Oh, alright."
You play dumb, knowing what's going on. There is no way that a performance video of yours is played right after Dreamcatcher's new MV. And Minju's hand underneath the blanket must be doing more than just holding the remote. But you let her be, flattered that she is actually getting off to you. You don't confront her, kmowing that it might lead to your own downfall.
Present:
Unbeknownst to you, two of the four girls have already failed the challenge. Chaewon and Karina. Minju got interrupted by you and got back to her senses. Yena has been holding out quite well so far. Until she blindly walks into your room.
Iit is night and Yena confused your door with hers as she came back from the bathroom. She is now standing in the doorframe, looking at you sleeping. You must have thrown off your blanket in the middle of the night, since its lying right next to you. Yena is enjoying the view of your mostly naked body, before she catches herself staring.
She shakes her head, dismissing the idea that just creeped into her mind. She is about to turn around, when she hears you groan quietly in your sleep. The deep sound makes Yena stay. She has been trying to resist her need for release since you let her listen to your songs.
She doesn't move for a couple of moments, thinking about what she should do.
Oh fuck it. Might as well try.
Yena slowly walks towards your bed, before kneeling onto the edge. She does her best to not touch your legs as she scoots closer towards your core. Her eyes are on your underwear, the outlines of your cock barely visible under the moonlight.
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She licks her lips, before trying to take off your boxers. Which isn't as easy as it seems, since you don't move your hips. The only thing Yena can do is pull down your waistband.
Her eyes grow wide when she sees your cock in real life. Karina's picture was nice and all. But up close your cock looks even better. Bigger.
She hesistantly gives your tip a kiss, testing the waters. When she sees no reaction, Yena opens, her mouth, ready to suck your cock. Her lips wrap around your tip, both of her hands slightly pulling your waistband down. Yena closes her eyes as she relishes in the feeling of your cock in her mouth. This might be cheating. But if she can make you cum like this... Her lips form a smile around your dick as she starts to slowly bob her head.
The new sensation of Yena's blowjob changes up your dreams a little. It makes them more sexual. You start to dream of the three girls,giving you head, as Karina rides your face. Unbeknownst to you, the wetness you feel around your cock is real.
Until Yena stops. Her hair keeps getting in the way. She lets your cock slip out of her mouth, letting it fall onto your stomach. She slowly lets go of your boxers, before reaching for her wrist. She takes off the hair band, before starting to put her pink hair into a poytail. She licks her lips as she ties her hair back.
After tugging a loose strand of hair behind her ear, Yena gets right back at it. Like before, she pulls down the waistband of your boxers with two hands. Her mouth kisses along the length of your shaft, before she takes it into her mouth, lifting your cock off your stomach. She tries to stay silent as she continues her work, but can't help an occasional hum.
Her eyes grow wide when she hears footsteps behind her. Yena is unable to turn her head, without letting your cock fall out, so she doesn't see who it is. But when she sees a hand wrap around the lower half of your shaft, she hears Chaewon's voice in her ear.
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"Let me have a taste, you slut."
Yena slightly shakes her head, Your cock still inside her mouth. It makes you move, the dream you are having becoming hotter and hotter. The two girls hold their breath, hoping you didn't wake up.
"You have to share."
Chaewon whines, trying to get Yena off your cock. At this rate she might make you cum in your sleep. But that doesn't count, right? She tries to push the older girl away. Yena stands her ground, but Chaewon doesn't give up. Instead of pushing her away, she starts to kiss the lower half of your cock.
Although competing, the two girls work in tandem. When Yena takes more into her mouth, Chaewon kisses towards your base. When Yena almost lets your tip fall out of her mouth, Chaewon kisses upwards, as far as she is able to go.
The two girls suddenly hear a thud in the living room. Their eyes grow wide. Not wanting to get caught, they silently jump off your bed. Yena closes the door behind her, before the two girls run back to their room.
The sound of the door closing makes you stir awake. You had a great dream. You suddenly feel kinda odd. Your cock feels...wet. What the hell? Was the dream too good? Did you actually cum in your sleep?
You get out of the bed as you feel the urge to use the bathroom. The watermelon right before bed was a bad idea.
Walking through the living room, you stop as your gaze finds Minju, lying on the mattress.
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Her blanket is only covering the upper part of her body, which is good for your attempt to last through this month, because you don't see a bra srap on Minju's shoulders.
But her lower half pushes you close nonetheless. She isn't wering pajamas. Only a red, high waisted thong is covering her center. Her cheeks aren't covered at all and you have to use all your discipline to not reach down and take a handful. The waistband is covered with small sparkling stones. You can only read a couple of letters, but realize that it says "Victoria Secret". Karina has one or two of those. You never really expected Minji to wear stuff like this. She always struck you as an innocent, coy girl.
As soon as you shut the bathroom door behind you, Minju starts to move. How did this not work? How are you able to walk past her after not nutting for almost a whole month? Minju grows frustrated with you and herself, ready to use her last option.
She doesn't even think about the possibility that you would never cheat on Karina. She turns around, now lying on her back. She doesn't want to make it too obvious, because that might lead to the wrong reaction on your part. Minju decides to keep her top half covered. But she furiously starts to rub her clit over her panties. Her goal? To create a big wet spot on her panties, before you come back out.
When she hears you use the sink, she feels the wet fabric over her pussy. It was almost too easy to make herself wet and almost too hard to stop. The excitment of the chance to get to fuck you in the next couple of minutes makes Minju sigh. She closes her eyes again as she sees the light in the bathroom turn off.
You step out of the room, seeing Minju now lying on her back. Even with barely any light at all, the wet spot on her thong is visible. You grow hard at the sight. It would be too easy to...
You shake your head. You would never cheat on Karina.
Minju hears you leaving. Without thinking, she starts to whisper.
"Oh, oppa. That feels so good."
Your heart stops as you turn around. Minju's brows are furrowed as she rubs her thighs together.
"How do you even fit in me?"
Another moan makes you even harder. You step forward. Your mind on the edge of breaking.
You have held out for almost a month without cuming now. You have a feeling that the three girls keep trying to make you fail. Or even try to get you to fuck them. Does Karina know about this? Did she plan this? That ridiculous thought enters your head. No way. Karina would never want to see you with another woman. Right? She never talked about something like this.
And here you are. Now towering over Minju as the young woman pretends to have a wet dream about you. Her occasional moans make you want to pound her hard.
"Inside of me. Breed me."
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transvampireboyfriend · 3 months
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Teacher AU
Eddie who studied to be a music teacher but right before graduation Corroded Coffin takes off. It's fast, they have to mail him his diploma to avoid a crowd of fans at his classmates' ceremony.
But it goes as fast as it comes, a few years of touring and then popularity wanes. Eddie is not bothered by it, neither are the guys, they enjoyed it while it lasted, yet they all knew they couldn't live like that for the rest of their lives, so it's all for the best.
Eddie lives off of album and merch sales and writing songs for other bands and artists now. This is when his best friend, Chrissy, tells him she heard the music teacher was retiring at her old pre-school.
Eddie applies for the vacant position, fearing they won't like his former star status but ultimately, after a good interview, he gets the job.
Steve who became a pre-school teacher and started teaching as soon as he could. He lives with his best friend, Robin, and coaches the town's junior basketball teams (both boys and girls) on his off time.
Steve who's nearing his thirties and getting a little frustrated with his love life. No matter how many dates, no matter how many 6 month relationships, no matter how many 1 year and a half and moving in together debacles, he still just never quite fits his partners, he never feels that thing, that excitement everyone talks about. No matter how amazing the person. Robin calls him an idealist, says he's being naïve. Steve sticks by his instinct to hope for more.
Steve who stares (a little slack-jawed) at the new music teacher for a good minute when he comes pick up his kids. Trying to take in the wild hair pinned up by a pencil, the glasses around big cow eyes, the tattoos peeking out of his long sleeves, the dimples.
He was aware Mrs. Wallace retired and a new teacher was brought on, he just hadn't expected his heart to race at the mere sight of him.
Steve completely misses his name, has to ask him to come again when those beautiful brown eyes get a mischievous sparkle and look expectant, like he got stood up waiting for an answer.
"I said it's nice meeting you" the new teacher repeats
"Oh! Of course! You're very nice. I mean it's very- It's nice meeting you too" Steve says and forcefully shuts his mouth, pressing his lips into a thin line.
The new teacher's smile just gets bigger and he nods and leads the kids to his class.
Robin thinks it's beyond funny that Steve doesn't know the new teacher's name, but she refuses to explain, refuses to tell him what it is and encourages him to find out on his own.
Steve approaches the guy in the teacher's lounge at lunch.
Beyond whatever the hell makes Steve's brain functions jump ship when he's around him, Steve does think it was rude of him to stare and not even introduce himself when they first met.
His mother may have been real shitty, but she didn't raise someone impolite.
"Hi," Steve starts, making the other man look up at him from underneath his glasses. Steve looks away for a second to avoid getting lost in those eyes.
"I think I owe you an apology," Steve starts, the other teacher raises his eyebrows and lowers the book in his hands.
"I'm sorry?"
"That's my line," Steve points out, he's rewarded by a small laugh and dimples, "I was rude," Steve explains, "I was staring and I didn't even introduce myself. I'm Steve." he smiles and extends his hands to the other man.
"I know." the guy says, smiling big enough to show his teeth, but gently taking Steve's hand in his own "I told you, they were nice enough to put all the names in my schedule, remember?" he says,
Steve freezes.
How come he didn't think of that? His schedule is the same, all schedules for teachers have everybodys' names. They even distributed new schedules for everyone when the hiring decision was made, Steve just hadn't bother to look at it yet, knowing the important bits hadn't changed.
Steve would facepalm if his dominant hand wasn't otherwise occupied.
"Uh-" Steve starts, thankfully the other man cuts him off,
"Hey," he says, with the kindest eyes Steve has ever seen, and still gently holding Steve's hand, "It's cool. I get it." he tells Steve,
Then he asks, "Are you a fan?"
Steve stares again.
Excuse him?
Judging by Robin's smirk accross the room, Steve's face must be as red as a ripe tomato.
Steve yanks his hand back.
Well, that's presumptuous. Just because Steve isn't very good at thinking whe he's around him, doesn't mean that- Sure, Steve came prepared to flirt with him, but he does not appreciate beaing treated like he's easy.
Steve frowns at him before turning around and promptly walking away. He guesses he'll have to go check his schedule if he wants to know the name of this jerk.
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boredmadamoiselle · 3 months
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You're losing me
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Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader
Synopsis: When the 2023 season comes to an end, everything falls down. Including your relationship with Charles.
Warnings: Angst. Charles is a little toxic maybe and an asshole. English isn't my first language, so it probably contains some mistakes. Sorry in advance!
Author's note: Let me know what you think. Your feedback is always appreciated and it is really important for me. If you have any ideas or concepts you want to share and that you want me to write, feel free to send them and I will take into consideration.
How long could we be a sad song 'Til we were too far gone to bring back to life? I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier Fighting in only your army Frontlines, don't you ignore me I'm the best thing at this party
“And Max Verstappen is a F1 world champion for the third time in a row!”, you heard the speakers saying even if everyone already knew that. 
All attention was on Max and Red Bull but your thoughts were on someone else. Charles.
While Max was celebrating his victory, Charles had lost not only against Red Bull but also against his own teammate. In the end, Carlos had managed to overtake him in the drivers' standings. The same Carlos who had always been one step in front of him for the entire year, who had broken, albeit for just one race, Red Bull's dominance and had dominated during the weekend at Monza, Ferrari’s home race. It was frustrating because he was Il Predestinato, the one who was destined to win and bring Ferrari to success after all those years. But race after race and despite the support of his fans, it seemed to him that it was no longer the case. He didn't even feel the same anymore. He was losing his confidence and was tired to fight when everything and everyone seemed to be against him: his own team, the strategies, the car, his teammate… 
But most of all, Charles was angry. You could barely keep up with him from how fast he was walking. With the helmet still on, he was ignoring everyone, including you and his fans. Something he had never done before. 
Despite his nervousness, he waited for you entering inside his driving room before slamming the door violently. You gasped at it.
You remained silent as you watched him change clothes and you thought about what you could tell him to console him. You didn’t even know if it was a good idea talking to him. What could you tell him in a moment like that to make things better? You knew that whatever you would have said wouldn't have been enough. What could you tell him that you haven’t told him yet? Because it wasn't the first time you found yourself in that situation, that things weren't going well...
You thought back over the past few months. It hadn’t been a good year for him and as a result, your relationship had suffered too. The worse the races went, the more, in fact, he was disappointed and threw himself more into work. When he didn't have to race, he was in Maranello at the factory working on the car and getting ready for the next race. Although you had tried to accompany him whenever you could, you had seen him less and less often. You also didn't feel welcome at the factory as you felt like your presence was bothering him. Scared by that, you had stopped going with him. You know it wasn’t true, that it was only your mind playing tricks on you. Was it?He loved you... you weren’t a burden or a distraction to him – you had repeated to yourself for months. He just needed to focus on his job if he wanted to win. Knowing how much it was important to him, you had put yourself aside and never said anything about it or how you felt. Not even when he didn’t come home for your anniversary because he had to work or when he forgot your birthday. You had remained silent even then, forgiving and justifying him, even though every disappointment and forgetfulness were like a stab in your heart, making you feel less and less important. In the end, it wasn't even worth it.
Although you were sad for Charles, a part of you was happy that the season had finally come to an end and that the winter break was about to start. It was your chance to spend some time together away from everything and everyone. Everything would have gone back to normal, to how it was before. You and Charles would have been fine again. At least it was what you thought… How wrong you were.
As Charles was putting his t-shirt on, you hugged him from behind and rested your chin on his shoulder. Or at least, you tried. He moved your arms off of you and walked away leaving you paralyzed in the middle of the room. You heard him grumble. 
You felt rejected by the man you loved and who told you he loved you. Because in that moment it didn’t seem like that. 
It wasn’t the first time that you felt rejected. The truth was that you hadn’t felt loved by him for months. 
You wanted to cry but you couldn’t. You had cried enough for him. You had lost count of the nights you spent crying before falling asleep. 
“Charles…”, you managed to whisper than to say. 
He turned to look at you. 
“What… what happens?”
He looked at you in disbelief. “What happens? Weren't you out there? Didn't you see what happened? I lost everything! Here what happened!”, he screamed. “I lost the championship, again! I’m not even vice-champion this time and my own teammate beat me. I’ve been driving a tract for the entire year. Isn’t all this enough for you?” 
As you listened to him, you realized how everything was always about him. He was still talking about the damn season he had, the championship, the car, his teammate… when you didn’t give a fuck about them, not anymore. You cared about you. You and Charles. But it didn't seem to be the same for your boyfriend.
He was still complaining about the season when you stopped him. You had enough. “No, I meant why you moved earlier.”
He turned around looking at you in confusion as if he didn’t understand what you were saying. 
“What… what are you talking about? When?” 
You couldn’t believe it. Was he making fun of you? How could he be so oblivious about everything, about you? Weren't you the woman he said he loved?
“Now when I hugged you and you immediately moved away from me as if you couldn’t stand my touch. Why that?”
Charles sighed and you could see how annoyed he was from your affirmation. Too bad for him that you were tired too and you couldn’t stand that situation anymore. It was time for both of you to clarify it. 
“It was nothing. I didn’t even realize it”, he said turning and giving you his back. 
“You see, Charles, this is the problem. You wouldn’t have realized it if I hadn't pointed it out for you. You never realize anything”, you said. 
“What would that mean? I already said that it was nothing. You're overreacting, Y/N!”
As your patience had reached its limit, you ended bursting out. 
“It was something, Charles! It meant for me. But apparently you simply don’t care enough about me and also about us if you don’t realize how much you’re hurting me, or I should say how I much you had hurt me in the last months”, you yelled at him while your eyes started filling with tears. 
Your words caught him off guard and put him in difficulty. He turned around to face you. 
“I’m sorry, okay? I didn't do it on purpose. I just have a lot of things on my mind right now. This year sucked…” 
You didn’t give him the time to finish. 
“Stop, Charles! I’ve had enough. Yeah, this season, the car, the team, everything sucked. I know that very well and do you know why? Because I’ve been by your side the whole time supporting and consoling you when everyone and everything seemed to be against you. And despite all this, you managed to make me feel like I wasn’t welcome. The least you could do is not push me away.” With every word you raised your voice more and more, not caring who could hear you from outside. 
“I never asked you to do all those things.”
You looked at him in disbelief. You quickly wiped away a tear that was falling down your cheek. He didn't deserve to see you crying. He didn't deserve you tears anymore.
You wondered yourself who was the person in front of you because that wasn’t the same Charles you knew and loved. There was a completely stranger in front of you as you didn't recognize him anymore.
“Yes, you didn’t but I did it anyway and I don’t regret it, Charles. I'd do it all again because I love you. But…” 
The thought had been tormenting you for months. You had kept pushing it away, trying not to listen to it but it came back stronger every time. You didn't want to believe it was true because it would mean the end of you and Charles. But maybe your relationship had been over a long time ago and you were just postponing the inevitable. 
“But it looks like my love isn’t enough anymore or maybe… maybe you don’t love me anymore, I don’t know. But I know for sure that in the last year you’ve loved your job, the championship and everything else more than me and don't try to deny it because you proved it several times, Charles. And I’m sorry but I'm tired of trying to make this relationship work when it seems I’m the only one who cares about it. I can’t keep fighting for both of us”, you said as you started collecting your things around the room, even the pieces of your broken heart. You wanted to leave that place and everything behind you as soon as possible. You were about to burst into tears. 
“Wait. What are you doing?”, he asked as he realized what you were about to do. 
“Leaving”, you simply said avoiding looking him in the face. You were afraid of the effect it might have on you. 
“What do you mean? The room or… me?” 
Good question. You didn't know it either. 
“I… don’t know. Maybe both, but for now the room for sure. I need some fresh air and... some time.” 
You collected your last things.
You had reached the door when his words stopped you. 
“So is it like this? Just because I've been absent recently or because I didn't win, you break up with me? You know I was working all the time, right?” 
You turned around to face him. All the sadness from earlier had been replaced by anger. You approached him reducing the distance between you. How could he think so low of you?
“Don’t you dare, Charles! I don't care if you're the champion of the world or not. I've always loved and wanted you despite that. And yes, I know you have been working all this time. You know why? Because that's all you've done this year: work, work and again work. If we've reached this point, it's… Do you know what? Nevermind. It’s just a waste of time and I've already wasted it enough. And so did you. I assume you have some work to do or am I wrong?” 
Maybe you had exaggerated with your words but you didn't care at all. You were hurt and angry.
Charles said nothing as you stood looking at each other. 
You weren't sure what you were hoping for. But anything would have been better than that deafening silence that was slowly killing you inside. It felt like the world was ending. For sure something was certainly over between you and Charles. But was it the end for you and him? Or there was still hope?
Your hand was on the doorknob, ready to leave when you turned to Charles. You wanted to see him one last time, to remember the Charles you loved but all you saw was a stranger. 
“You know what, Charles? You were right in the end. You’ve lost everything, including me, us. Good work, Charles.”
And with those last words you left the room and Charles. 
You exited the garage and walked quickly across the paddock hoping no one would have stopped or seen you. 
As you were keeping your head down, you didn't see that Joris was coming in the opposite direction and you collided with him.
"Oh, Joris... I'm sorry, I didn't see you...", you told him.
"Hey, Y/n. Is it everything ok? Where are you going?"
You were avoiding his gaze. If you would have looked at him in the eyes, you wouldn't have been able to hold back the tears anymore. "Away, Joris. I need to go", you whispered as your eyes started to fill with tears again.
"Wait, where? What happened?"
You quickly looked at him before hugging him.
"Nothing, don't worry. Take care of him for me, Joris."
You quickly kissed his cheek and left him there confused as he watched you walking away.
Stop, you're losin' me Stop, you're losin' me Stop, you're losin' me I can't find a pulse My heart won't start anymore For you 'Cause you're losin' me
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nanaminsmoon · 7 months
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babydaddy!connie x blackfem!reader
a/n: this one made my heart ache a little icl. but i had to put this song because it goes so well😭
pt.2
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cw: pnv, unprotected sex, infidelity (reader cheats), connie calls reader; 'ma', 'hermosa', ”es bueno, ma?” ("is it good, ma?"), "quieres otro hijo, hm? you want a boy or a girl? dime, and i’ll give it to you” ("you want another kid, hm? [...] tell me, and i'll give it to you"),
wc: 3380
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“why’s my daughter telling me you got a boyfriend?”, booming from where its owner was stood at the door, connie’s voice abruptly entered your ear canals to bring your attention to him. after hugging your daughter, you had kept your front door open for connie to come in if he wanted to. and, when he followed you both inside, you had just assumed he was bringing in your daughter’s belongings. even as he stuck around after having placed her bags in her bedroom, his presence was dashed to the back of your mind. now, as your child sat in the garden eating with her aunt, he was demanding your attention as he leant against the doorframe.
“because i do”, your eyes were trained on the soapy dishes in front of you, and they wouldn’t divert as you spoke. meaning you didn’t see the incredulous expression on your ex-boyfriend’s face, as his features scrunched at your straight forward response.
“the fuck you need a boyfriend for?”, he asked. confusion was laced through every word in that sentence to hold it together so it could leave his mouth. barely.
“because we can't fuck as friends forever, connie. at some point we both need to move on, and i have”, you answered, frankly. the decision to coparent came after you and connie decided to break up four years ago. and four long years had been hastened by sunday sunsets spent behind closed bedroom doors when he returned your daughter back to you. meaning that suspicions did rise when the emotions sprawled on your face, at the end of every week, had become more impassive—the lustful glimmer in your irises, dimming to a seemingly more platonic one. yet, connie never said anything, he just assumed you wanted space. that’s not to say that it didn’t bother him, but he knew that he couldn’t beg you to come back to him. as much as he did want to.
because, contrary to popular belief, connie had changed since you two broke up. having heard the news of you having a boyfriend, old connie would’ve had a video of some girl throwing ass on him seared into the back of your eyelids by sundown. but old connie had never developed an understanding of how important his family was, and new connie would lose his life before he lost his girls. yet, these two different versions of the same man still shared one similarity; their love for antagonising you.
“so you're just bringing randoms into the place my daughter sleeps?”, connie exaggerated as he always did, irritation audible in his tone. and you’d roll your eyes at him.
“first off, he's not a random, he's my boyfriend. and second, this is my house, i can bring in whoever i want”, you said, wiping a pan. that term, ’my boyfriend’, was an anvil that sunk connie’s intestines to his feet in a way he had never felt before. it was hard to put a finger on what exact feeling it induced, but he did know that it pressed his dreams, of getting his family back, into grains of sand that would escape his grasp through the growing gaps in his fingers.
“has she met him?”, he asked, cautiously, looking at his sock covered feet in the slippers you had always kept for him. in the past, that had been a gesture that made him feel at home with you; something that made him feel like you still cared for him the way he did you. but now, the slippers felt uncomfortable. like they were growing in size, and the only person capable of wearing them was someone he could never be—like he couldn’t fill them anymore, and you knew that so you had gotten someone else to do it.
“yeah, he came over and cooked us dinner and she loved it.”, you said, tone coming out more braggy than you had hoped. and that hurt connie more than it angered him, but the latter was the only thing he was capable of expressing.
“so what, you gonna marry him?”, those words were abrupt, even surprising connie’s ears. but they’d be met with a scoff from your glossed lips as annoyance built inside you. your love life was none of his concern, and he knew that, so his entitlement infuriated you beyond belief.
“i don't know, connie”, you said, vexed, as you waved him off, “even if i was, why’s that any of your business?”,
“’cause you're the mother of my child. as long as she's here, your business is my business”, the truth in that statement rested in what connie didn’t say. that being, you were the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with so, whether you liked it or not, his heart had already staked its claim on you. and he needed to know who to fend off, to keep you by his side.
no thoughts spawned in your mind at that statement, so you’d just remain silent as you continued what you were doing. that gave connie enough time to search for straws to clutch at to get you back. but he could only ever draw one. that was the one that placed a small smile on his face as his tongue swiped across his bottom lip; if connie couldn’t win your mind over, he’d try his luck at the one thing that refused to obey the former.
”so we’re done? not even one more time for the road?”, connie’s shoulder pushed his body off the doorframe, before he started making his way toward you. a stutter in your mind would replay that phrase, ’one more time for the road’, until it finally clicked.
“we're not fucking, no”, you said, avoiding eye contact.
“just quickly, ma. i know you miss it.”, connie’s smirk would only widen when his statement received no rebuttal. and it’d stay that way as he walked to stand right behind you—he’d place a hand on either side of you, pushing you right against the counter. all you could muster was a harsh swallow as connie moved closer to you, and his breath would be touching your neck as he spoke, voice lowered.
"you used to call me all the time telling me you ain't never had dick like this. and i know he ain't fucking you good enough for you to forget about me", connie’s lips brushed past your ear. a brief shudder would intensify to wring out any suppressed longing you held for him, producing a moist patch at the front of your underwear. and that was before you could even feel his desperation, to keep you his, pressing into your lower back. once that’d register, you’d have to breathe deeply to release the temptation building within you.
"i'm not cheating on my man, connie", you said, voice shaking. a sigh would fall from connie’s lips, hitting the spot on your neck they planned to cover, before transfiguring into a tingle that explored your back. one of connie’s favourite things about you was your loyalty, so that answer was expected. but he’d still kiss his teeth at the knowledge that it was now being directed toward someone else.
"then leave him", he’d say, an inch away from your neck, before his plump lips would attach to the skin there. a proprietorial mark would be etched onto your skin when connie heard you sigh out in pleasure. the erasure of all his doubts would arrive when you tilted your head to give him better access. and those doubts would then be quashed completely when your hand rose to run your fingers through his buzzcut.
a few more kisses to the neck, combined with connie’s hand venturing into the front of your leggings to rub away all loyalties to your man, affirmed connie’s statements about you missing him. but once you were in the privacy of your bedroom, he could actually feel how much you missed him; your need for him was prominent in the way you tightened around his length like you feared letting him go. this was the first time where fucking you was a welcomed struggle, pulling out of you being a necessity he wanted to avoid. mainly due to the connection of your foreheads, connie couldn’t see anything but you; the noises you made, your scent, the look he could discern in your eyes when they weren’t exploring their sockets, all of it warmed his heart in an infuriatingly delightful way. and there was no way you hadn’t missed him, and the way he knew your body inside out. the way he knew where to kiss as your legs rested over his shoulders, a pillow sat underneath your hips as your nails painted stripes onto the skin on his back. five years ago, connie fucked you in every position he could think of, but separation birthed the need for closeness. so now, whenever you two fucked, it was always in a position that allowed for his eyes to be locked with yours as his tip poked that spot that had made you nut twice already.
”es bueno, ma?”, he asked and you’d nod a reply, pulling a smile from the man above you. you were all he could see, and perhaps that’s why he saw love in everything that surrounded him.
prior to this point in his life, connie’s need to build a family with you had never been a focal point for him. but now it was all he could see; he saw it in the envy that followed him around at the sight of families happily laughing together, he saw it in the ducks dutifully trailing their mother at the pond near your house, and he felt it when the merging of you and your daughter’s giggles made his heart feel swollen in a way he could never soothe. if he had it his way, you’d both be married with four kids living in some mansion somewhere. but when push came to shove, his ideals only ever amounted to short-lived ‘conversations’ when you two were fucking,
”quieres otro hijo, hm? you want a boy or a girl? dime, and i’ll give it to you”, a fucked out mutter would always fall from your lips, and that’s the only answer he could ever get from you. because the answer you gave him any other time, tore his heart into a million pieces he had yet to locate. your boyfriend posed a new challenge for him, so connie would have to tell you how he felt before he lost you forever. feverish kisses would be placed on any skin connie would reach, as his hips sped up. pleasured mumbles would mean nothing to him, because he could feel your body warning him of your release.
”i’m yours, hermosa, just—fuck—nut on it”, he’d instruct, and your body would obey. this man was fucking you so good, you could’ve sworn you felt your soul leave its vessel, to watch you coating connie and the bed underneath you, in your arousal. and connie wouldn’t be far behind—hips losing their rhythm, and low ’fuck’s leaving his mouth before he started kissing you again.
”ifuckingloveyou”, he messily kissed onto your lips and surprise struck you so hard, you didn’t even register your own mouth speaking back to him,
”mmloveyoutoo”, those words would be enough to trigger a twitching in connie’s balls that would empty them, until he was leaking out of you.
the kiss you two shared was bittersweet, both literally and figuratively. not just due to the lingering taste of the results of your aching throat, mixing with the reason why you could still feel his lips wrapping around your clit, but also because connie felt like he was flirting with a dream that could never be realised. but that wouldn’t stop you two from losing yourself in each other and making out for a few minutes. until you’d hear a knock. all movements would be halted, and there’d be silence from behind the door. then winces, and small hisses of discomfort, would fill the space as connie pulled out of you before getting up to put his boxers on. he’d step off the bed, walking over to the door to tend to, who he thought was, his daughter.
”princesa, we’ll be out in a second, okay?”, connie shouted to the other side of the door, but the voice he heard was not the one he was expecting.
“the fuck’s going on?!”, connie’s eyes would dart back to your wide ones, before a smirk would quickly grace his face. it was clear to see that he was trying his very hardest to not burst into laughter, despite your panic being written all over you. disorientation clouded you to the point that you didn’t even realise that the shirt you decided to put on your body was connie’s. but he would. and he wouldn’t say anything, even as you walked to the door to talk to your boyfriend.
”i can explain”, is all you’d manage to get out to your man, before he’d open the door further to find connie sitting himself on the bed, covering himself with the sheets he’d just put on his lower half. the lower half of his face remained smug, but the upper half of it was focused as he watched the scene unfolding in front of him; desperate hands grappling to hold your boyfriend’s arms or hands, as he paced the room, trying to digest what he was seeing. connie’s enjoyment would be short-lived, ending when he heard the angry words your boyfriend was throwing at you.
”shoulda fucked her better, then i wouldna had to do it”, he said, still laid on the bed. the room would fall still once again, and you’d look at him in pleading. he’d shrug, but acquiesce, not saying anything after that comment. that seemed to be the final straw for your boyfriend, because he’d say something about needing to go outside before walking out.
the blustering of infuriated footsteps would fade out as you followed your boyfriend down the hallway to the front door. connie would sit in waiting, leaning against the headboard, as he contemplated what this meant for the both of you, but those thoughts would be cut short at your return. alone. it turns out, no amount of apologies or promises that this will never happen again could convince your boyfriend to stay. and, though that elated connie more than he cared to admit, he couldn’t help the lump forming in his throat at the sight of your slumped posture as you sandwiched your lip between your teeth, swallowing pained tears. that lump would block any sly comments he planned to make. in fact, he wouldn’t even speak as he got up to walk to you, hands reaching to pull you closer to him. even as you pushed him away,
”leave me alone”, you chided, quietly. but, no matter how hard you pushed, connie would overpower you to pull you into the warmest hug you’d had in months. its warmth would invite your arms to wrap around him, sobs spilling into his bare chest the second your cheek touched it. not once letting go, connie would pull you back into bed, wrap you in the sheets, before comforting you. relief drowned a certain of him as it knew that he had a chance of getting you back. but the part of him that still had its head above water wrestled with guilt; there’s nothing this man wanted for you than happiness, and seeing his hands be the ones to take it away from you pained him.
the commotion of everything numbed you to your environment, so it would be only a few moments before your distraught sobs would reach the ears of the person you wanted to hear them least. small knocks would bring yours and connie’s attention to the half-open door, and you’d try to get yourself together, but there was only so much you could do to hide the shadows of sorrow reddening your eyes, and creating darkened splotches on connie’s shirt. as soon as you saw your daughter reach up to comfort you, you’d climb off the bed and hug her, feeling your heart start to glue back together when she wiped a tear off your face. both you and connie would instruct her to wait for you in the living room and you’d begin getting dressed properly once you’d hear her run off excitedly.
the both of you would get dressed, and walk down the stairs, in silence. the most connie would provide would be an arm around your shoulder, and a kiss to your temple, which you accepted happily. and, as soon as you were within an earshot of the living room, you’d hear ’the little mermaid’ playing for the nth time, accompanied by the usual harmonisations provided by your daughter’s jovial singing. you’d be admiring the blankets, cushions, and snacks she had set up before you’d be distracted by the rustling of connie putting his shoes and coat on. every fibre of your being would beg you to stop him, but you’d try and convince yourself that he probably had somewhere to be. however, such considerations meant nothing to your hand that was already reaching to grab at his own,
”stay.”, you asked quietly, and his eyes would widen at the request. of course he wanted to stay, but he didn’t think you’d want to spend another minute around the man who had just ruined your relationship. but then once your daughter ran up to him, pouting while asking,
”please~”, his decision would be made for him.
as you watched the movie, you’d notice connie’s eyes fixated on you. at first you thought he was watching your daughter wave her little mermaid doll around but, when you’d turn to check, you’d be met with direct eye contact. his lips would fall agape only to meet again, before they’d open to allow their owner to mouth a belated apology,
”i’m sorry”, his swollen lips would trace out, and a forgiving ”it’s okay” would be mouthed by your own lips. there’d a second where you’d just be staring at each other in mutual love and understanding. it was obvious that this chapter wasn’t finished, not when the authors holding the pens had changed immensely since the day the first page of the book had been written. but small hands would rise to push your faces to face the screen, and connie’s own inability to forgive himself for his actions would shift his eyes to the floor. that’s when they’d narrow in on the slippers that did nothing but breed insecurity. a small voice in his head would ask him if they still felt hard to fill, and admittedly, they still did. yet, looking at them again, he didn’t mind that. though the future still held uncertainties, the feeling of you and your daughter leaning on him, as his arm reached around to embrace you both, filled the gaps of himself he had lost confidence in. because this was all he had ever wanted; to become a person that could be leant on by the people he cared for most. both of you. for as long as his lungs held breath, and for as long as the image of you and your child falling asleep on him every night, was the only one his subconscious could conjure up when his head met his pillow at the end of every day.
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aureatchi · 5 months
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˚୨୧ 。 ˚ IT WAS A NIGHT TO REMEMBER . — osamu dazai
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⟢ SYNOPSIS. after a long week of work, you and your best friend retreat to a bar to distract yourself from your responsibilities. however, you find it unfulfilling and decide you need to just go home. as you head out the door, you bump into someone more than familiar.
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a/n. it’s the way i immediately thought of him when i first heard this song. <3
info. fem!reader. exes to lovers!au. we have the full recipe…fluff; light angst; gets really sugg. mentions of drinking; scars. your best friend hates dazai. hc dazai doesn’t bandage his tummy. (ᗒᗜᗕ) ノ wc. 3.6k
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“It’s just a lot.”
You just finished the final shift of your job for the week, and you were more than exhausted and burnt out. You had called your best friend immediately after to get some comfort, and despite how busy she was, she agreed to meet you for some drinks and listen to you rant.
“My coworker’s getting on my last nerve,” you continued venting. You had already told her about select crappy people you had to interact with during the day and then your boss, who regarded you with no empathy whatsoever. “Today’s already been bad enough, and then she decides to just pile more stress on me.”
You swished the ice around your emptied glass, creating clanking sounds while coating the cup in water.
“Maybe you should just quit,” your friend replied, taking a sip out of her glass. “I would’ve been long gone if I had to deal with annoying people all around, nine to five.”
She looked up at you. “Besides, you’re well off anyway. I don’t see why you’re working. Are you…trying to distract yourself?”
You sighed. She knew you too well.
“Love, don’t tell me you’re still hung up over—“
“It’s not what you think,” you cut her off, yet you avoided eye contact. It was easier to lie that way. “I just feel I’d have too much free time on my hands. I’m not sure what I’d do with it.”
You let out a dry chuckle. That wasn’t wholly false in itself, either. At your age, everyone had their own things going on—your best friend being an example. Therefore, you couldn’t find much time to go out with any of your friends, and you weren’t interested in meeting new people either.
You could blame your job. Perhaps the ones you meet every day put a sour taste on your tongue, making you lose any desire to interact with strangers. You could blame your exhaustion. Or…
“Honestly, I think that calls for someone new in your life,” your friend replied. “That’ll surely cure your boredom.”
“No thanks. I don’t feel like dating anyone right now.”
“I’m just kidding,” she laughed. “But it’d help you feel less lonely, no?”
“…you didn’t believe my answer to your earlier question, huh?”
“No. Of course not.”
It had been over five months since you broke up with your boyfriend. You tried seeing people after that, but in truth, you were only using them to try to move on.
Once you realized that it wasn’t working and it wasn’t fair for others to play with feelings, you decided to take on a new job on the other side of the city so you’d still get out of your house and have a change of scene.
“…But you know what? Screw him. I will keep saying again and again, I hate that man. Suicidal maniac. I know it’s hard, but you’re too hot to keep dwelling on this. You need to learn to move o—”
Your friend’s phone suddenly buzzed, interrupting her little lecture.
She picked it up, and you waited for her to finish speaking.
“I’m sorry, I think I got to go. I left my boyfriend with my cat, and he just told me he lost her already…” she shook her head. “Have you gotten out everything you wanted to say?”
“Yeah, thanks,” you replied. “I think I’ll go home soon, too. Not really feeling it.”
She stood up, handing you a bill with a smile. “Drinks on me tonight. Don’t complain—I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer. And we didn’t order much anyway.”
“That’s okay; I appreciate you coming to listen to me anyway,” you replied.
“The offer is still open, by the way! If you want to find someone, I’ll schedule a date by this weekend.”
You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. Thanks.”
You only had one more drink before you decided to leave, still mostly sober—you figured it’d just be best if you’d take care of yourself at home.
Another thing your job was also distracting you from was witnessing all the relationships around you. Your friend had to go home for her boyfriend. You noticed a few couples at the bar you were at. You’d probably see more when you walked outside.
Not that you minded, is what you tried to tell yourself every single time. You didn’t have to be with someone. It’s okay to have a break.
But was it okay to still have a particular person at the back of your head all the time?
You stood up, leaving the bill and tip for your bartender before you walked toward the door. Opening it caused the bell attached to it to jingle. You were greeted by a cool, night breeze—and someone’s torso.
“O-Oh, sorry,” you replied, too tired to even catch the face of the person you bumped into.
But you had no choice when the man didn’t move out of the doorframe to walk in or allow you to pass.
So, when you met the almost-surprised, caramel-kissed eyes on a face framed with dark brown bangs and wavy hair, you felt your heart plunge into your stomach.
You whispered his name—almost scared to say it, the syllables feeling foreign from not having spoken it aloud for months.
“…Osamu.”
He was halfway through saying your name when you dashed for the exit, shoving him aside and speed-walking out.
“Wait! Bel—“ he caught himself and shouted your name once more.
You started walking down the parking lot, unsure of where you were trying to go, except away—away from Dazai. You had forgotten this bar was in the heart of the city. You didn’t know Dazai came to this one, but you knew his work was somewhere close.
“Hey!” you felt a breeze behind your back, and then a hand gently land on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks.
“What…why are you following me?”
You turned around, getting your second full view of your ex for the night.
His hair was a bit longer. He still had those bandages on his neck—did he bother to change them out recently? His scent was as still as you remembered—grassy and toasty, a resemblance to green tea.
“I’m not sure why I’d leave a girl I know to walk alone at night,” he shrugged. “It’s dangerous!”
You continued walking, not responding to his reply.
“Where are we going?”
“Who’s we?”
“Aw, that was really rude.”
You ignored Dazai, making sure your stroll stayed a few feet in front of him.
You then entered a park, him trailing behind you.
“Why were you at the bar alone?”
“That’s none of your business.” You walked down the path, trees casting dark shadows onto the grass under the moon’s light.
“…And I wasn’t alone the entire time. I was with a friend, but she left to attend something.”
Dazai nodded, trying to catch up to your face. You immediately gave him more than enough space when he reached you, not wanting any invasion of your personal space.
“But you usually don’t drink unless you’re either celebrating or stressed,” he said. “And from what I’ve seen, it looks like the latter.”
You stopped again. “Again, it’s none of your business. Maybe you should focus on yours. You go and drink tons when you’re stressed, too.”
“Hey, I’ve actually gotten better at that…”
“You still ended up at a bar midweek.”
“But I didn’t even go in, no? I’m with you at a park right now.”
You were silent once again. But now you couldn’t complain that he was following you.
Why do I care if he drinks or not?
No. It’s normal. You’d care for the well-being of anyone you know.
You approached a set of swings in the center of the park. It had been ages since you’d been on one, swinging back and forth in carefree.
“Want me to push you?” you heard Dazai over your shoulder when you examined the equipment.
“Heck no,” you responded.
“Why not? It’d be fun!” He moved closer.
“No! I’m not sure if it’d even carry me,” you laughed. “It’s for kids.”
“You can try it. Just sit. And I’ll catch you if it breaks—“
“Shut up. I can catch myself.” You lowered yourself onto the seat, seeing that the metal poles did hold. You swung yourself a bit to test if it’d keep up your weight.
“It works.”
“Great! Can I push you now?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I don’t trust you.”
“I won’t kill you, bel—I won’t! I promise.” Dazai childishly held out a pinkie toward you.
You sighed. “Fine. Just please don’t push me too high.” You clasped your pinkie around his.
“I got you!” You felt palms on your back, and then a light push that moved you forward, and then gravity pulled you back toward him.
Everything pulls me back to him—my mind and the universe both.
You were suddenly pushed higher, catching you off guard. You felt yourself fly multiple feet off of the ground, and you clutched the metal in panic.
“H-Help—Osamu!”
“You’re fine. You won’t fall,” Dazai chuckled. He pushed you again, sending you even higher than the previous time. You wanted to scream, but it came out more as a laugh.
“Is the thrill fun?” he asked while you were in the air, noticing your smile.
“Yeah, it is—HEY!”
Dazai had pushed you hard, sending you swinging all around the equipment, in a complete three-sixty.
“Osamu!” you cried, the momentum spinning you around once more. You couldn’t stop it—it was too fast.
You were clutched from behind, arms tightly wrapped around your torso to stop the swing. You could hear the sound of Dazai being dragged through the rocks below, but he was able to ground the both of you before you went flying again.
And you felt warm. Despite the evening’s cool air, you felt like you were encompassed in a fireplace’s heat on a winter day.
“Got you.”
You let out a giant exhale of relief. And then, you turned around in anger.
“I told you not to push me that high!”
“But I didn’t kill you, did I? You stayed on the swing the entire time! You were safe! Plus, I think you enjoyed it.”
You stood up, causing Dazai to let go of his arms. “I’m dizzy now.”
“Do you need water? We can buy some. And did you drive here?”
“No, I took a taxi.”
“Let me drive you home then,” he said.
“I think I’m fin—“
“Please,” he cut you off almost urgently, but then he caught his tone and reverted.
“I mean, many kidnappers disguise themselves as taxi drivers. Especially at night.”
“You’re still so cynical,” you replied. “Stop being so protective. It’s not like we’re…nevermind, sorry.”
You didn’t dare look at Dazai’s expression.
You each got a yogurt drink, and it helped soothe your dizziness immediately.
You walked by Dazai silently, but compared to earlier in the night, you were no longer repulsed to standing by him.
He opened his car door for you before getting in his seat on the other side.
“What have you been up to these past months?”
You asked as he found his keys, turning them into gear.
“A case. It’s something huge going on.”
Dazai’s work accounted for part of your breaking up with him. He was too secretive—despite you knew that he trusted you so much that he explained to you exactly what his job consisted of, and he only left details out to protect you from getting involved, you couldn’t handle it.
Maybe you were selfish for that. But you needed to know what your boyfriend was up to—if he was safe. Perhaps that was another reason why. You would never let him go if you knew of the exact danger he was volunteering himself in.
“I see. Sleeping okay?”
“If I do, sure.” He was suddenly reaching over your body, grabbing your seatbelt.
Your heartbeat fastened as Dazai hovered over you, pausing to look at anticipating eyes and a risky glance at slightly parted lips.
He sighed before fastening the buckle and moving away, acting like nothing happened.
You two drove in silence, you gazing out of the car window to admire how the city looked in the absence of the sun.
A song was suddenly put on. You looked at Dazai.
“Do you still like this song?”
“Yeah,” you replied. He had put on your favorite song, indeed.
You silently thanked him for it. The awkward tension to speak to one another had vanished; you could indulge yourself in music.
Until it ended, of course, but by then, you could see you were almost home.
“Osamu.”
“Yes?”
“This was a really bad idea. I hope I never see you again after this.”
“Probably, but maybe I wanted it to happen. Maybe I thought about you so much that I had to seize this opportunity.”
“What?”
“What if I hope to see you again after this?”
“You can go flirt with any other girl for entertainment.” He did a lot of that, too. Even if it was Dazai’s most efficient tactic for getting information, he had also said he simply couldn’t help it sometimes.
“I don’t find that interesting anymore.”
You looked at his distant, faint reflection through your window.
“…you think about me?”
You were answered with a nod.
Dazai turned, pulling you into your driveway.
“I’ll continue to even more after tonight,” he said. “Whether we see each other again or not. It plagues my mind every day. What I could’ve done better—how much you deserve that I failed to reach.”
He parked. “Of course, I’ve tried to move on. It’s the most fair thing to do for you. But if someone were to ask me, bella, saying that I don’t still love you would be a lie.”
“You’re selfish,” you commented.
“I know. I’m very.”
You opened the door, stepping out of the car.
“Thank you for driving me,” you said.
You walked towards your front door and then looked back at Dazai, who was standing by his side of the car.
You contemplated for a second.
“D-do you have something to do for the rest of the night?” you carefully asked.
“No.”
“Can you stay? Just for a bit. We can talk about things. And hopefully, you get some answers that will help you stop occupying your mind of me.”
You said that as if you were trying to convince yourself, rather Dazai.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” You pushed open the door.
Dazai followed you as you walked through the house—through the hallway and to the kitchen.
“Do you want something to eat? Or drink?”
“I’m okay, thanks,” he replied.
“Alright. Uh…feel free to make yourself at home. I’m going to change, I’ll be right back.”
You walked into your room, first washing your face in the bathroom. You stared at your face through the window, noticing how pigmented your cheeks were.
Why did I do this?
You were in the middle of changing your pajamas when Dazai knocked on your door.
“Can I come in?”
“Uh—“ you hastily buttoned two thirds of your shirt before, “Yeah.”
A smell of your favorite scent immediately flowed into the room as Dazai came in. It was of the candles you had around your house.
“You lit my candles?”
“Yeah. I got curious because the flavors looked nice. I like them. The scent matches you perfectly.”
“Oh…thanks,” you mumbled. You didn’t know how else to respond.
Dazai glanced around your room. Some things changed—you had moved some things around, redone the decor on your nightstands, changed your bed sheets…what he didn’t know was that you actually donated them after the break-up so you would never see them again.
“Did you need something?”
“Yeah. Do you still happen to have bandages?”
“Yes.” You had Dazai sit on the bed while you searched your closet for the box of bandages you would keep for whenever he came over. Unlike your sheets, you had kept them for your emergency first aid.
Or in case he happened to be in an emergency.
“What do you think you could’ve done better?”
There was a silence right after. You had hit Dazai with a hard question first.
“I’d stop disappearing so much without warning. I only realized how much I took that for granted when we stopped seeing each other. I would try to communicate better…” He looked down. “I’m terrible at it, I know, but I would try harder.”
“Why me? You could move on and find some other girl to treat right the first time.” You found the box, pulling it out.
“Because I would feel like a loser,” he added your name to the end of the sentence. “I was a total jerk to someone who loved me, and then I decide to switch it up for someone new and pretend to start on a clean slate? No, bella—I’m cursed with not forgetting and forgiving myself of the past. It feels cowardly.”
“Osamu, stop. You hurt me, yes, but you weren’t the only one in the wrong.
“I-I’m sorry.” You hadn’t apologized to him yet, through months.
You noticed his eyes almost widen, surprised.
“And I also forgive you. It took awhile, but I’m forgiving you of the mistakes that hurt me,” you continued. “And I’m apologizing to you too. So please forgive yourself. You don’t need to feel guilt.
“It’s only fair to you as well to move on.”
“Why, bella? How is it fair? How is it fair when the only person I want to see is you?”
“Osamu.”
You were right in front of him, the closest you’d been to him that night, discarding how he had tightly hugged you on the swing earlier. You were drowned in emotion that surrounded his desperate pleas.
“Can you please bandage me?”
“Why?”
“I miss your touches.”
You regret asking. He had no shame in expressing his thoughts, no matter what you two were going through. You regret asking, yet…
“Your coat.”
You climbed behind and rid Dazai of the top portion of his clothes—his vest and dress shirt. Then, you started unwinding the bandages on his arms, chest, and neck.
Gently, your fingers grazed the scars that hid underneath his attire, and his mind. Months ago, you had learned what every single mark came from after knowing where each one was—it was one detail Dazai fully opened to you about.
You were thankful you couldn’t see scars of the heart.
He would have thrice as many. Perhaps one of them would include you.
You rewrapped Dazai, leaving only his stomach unbandaged. You moved to do his neck when he paused you with his eyes, mere inches away from his face.
“You still haven’t answered my question.”
You wish he weren’t so pretty. You would’ve been able to rationalize yourself quickly—you would’ve been able to give him a final answer without hesitating. But he ended up being the face of your dreams and the depth of your heart.
“I tell myself it’s fair,” you whispered. His nose was almost touching yours. “I tell myself it’s better that we’re done. But my heart isn’t so sure. It asks the same—how is it fair? To keep myself longing?”
Your arms were around Dazai’s neck with the bandage, yet you did not move to finish.
His gaze moved to your lips. A hand moved to your hair.
“Is it fair? If it truly is, push me away, bella.”
He didn’t force himself any closer, leaving you with the choice despite his yearning appearance. You could feel the warmth of his body on yours and the soft air of his breaths on your cheeks.
“Yes. It’s fair, Osamu.” You came to your conclusion.
Yet, you dropped the bandages, cupped his face towards you, and pressed your lips on his.
“But I’m selfish too.”
You moved your hands to waft through brunette locks as Dazai pulled you onto his lap. He held you tightly—desperate at the acceptance of your invitation.
Closer, along with the fresh scent of green tea, there was a note of sweetness as intoxicating as chocolate. You came to know this pleasant surprise every time you were pressed up against him, tucked well into his embrace.
A hand moved down your waist, tracing your curves. Meanwhile, his kisses became sloppier, changing course to your jaw.
“Bella,” he whispered.
“Osamu?”
“Too much? Just let me know.”
“Don’t stop.”
He planted his lips on your neck, leaving a mark when he moved to the next area.
“I don’t want to lose you again. I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too,” you replied, pulling him down over you.
“Everything about you,” Dazai continued. “It’s enchanting. How you smile when you’re flustered—like right now, and how you react when I touch you here…”
His hand found its way under your shirt, and you started laughing. He knew how and where to draw every specific reaction out of you, including where you were most ticklish.
“Osamu! Stop, hah-!”
You let him stay hovered over you and left his curious hands to wander your skin. Dazai looked free of emotional distress for once—being able to calm just by admiring you. It was like medicine.
“Do you still keep a spare pajama set?” he asked.
“Yes. However, the guest room is being renovated.”
“It’s fine. A couch was a luxury for me at one point.”
“Or you…could stay here. And you can have your favorite side, the side closer to the window.”
“Because I always see how the sun’s rays lay on your skin when I wake up,” he smiled. “And how spellbound your eyes make me when you open them and the light hits it.”
“You remember so much.”
“I told you how much I think about you, belladonna. I remember every night that I’m with you.”
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dazai listens to music w/ u if u rb. reblogs are cherished; they support me as a creator. <3
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© AUREATCHI 2023. no reposts or translations. do not steal.
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roosterforme · 9 months
Text
Don't You Want Me, Baby | Rooster x Reader
Summary: It was like a fairytale, the way you stole Bradley's heart with your gorgeous face, retro denim jacket, and karaoke skills. But when you disappear into the night, leaving only one small trinket behind, he's left wondering if he didn't just dream you up. 
Warnings: Fluff, swearing and karaoke
Length: 3200 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
Check out my masterlist for more!
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Bradley's favorite thing about '80s throwback nights at the Hard Deck was seeing how his friends dressed for it. Nat usually went with neon spandex. Bob had a vintage Nintendo tee shirt. Jake found a windbreaker and matching pants at a thrift store. Even Penny got in on things by wearing a hideous blazer with enormous shoulder pads. 
But Bradley just wore what he always did: one of his dad's tropical print shirts from circa 1983, his snug Levi's, and his slick mustache. 
When he arrived at the Hard Deck, he realized that his least favorite part of this kind of night was the fact that he was always the odd man out now. He'd been single for such a long time, and it didn't usually bother him. But the way Javy had his arm around Nat, and the way Bob's girlfriend was making him blush... well, Bradley was starting to feel like he was missing out. 
Nat handed him a beer as soon as he strolled up to the bar. "I can't decide if it's funny or sad that you don't even have to try," she told him, eyeing him up and down. 
"Says the woman wearing a neon pink jumpsuit? What even is that thing?" he asked, gesturing to her outfit. Frankly, it was scary, but Javy seemed to like it as he kissed Nat and whispered in her ear before he walked away, turning to look at her several times. 
She rolled her eyes and told him, "It's '80s workout attire! I'm going to sing the song Physical for karaoke, and I thought it would be fun to match the theme. You, on the other hand, wore the same thing the other day when we went out for pizza. You live in the '80s my friend."
"Whatever," Bradley grunted, sipping his beer. 
"Rooster, did you sign up for a song yet?" Fanboy asked him, jerking his thumb to the karaoke setup in the corner. 
Just as he was about to reply, Nat smirked at him. "How about I pick a song for you?"
Bradley just shrugged. "Sure." He liked singing. He was pretty good at it. And with tonight's theme, he'd know all the lyrics even without the video prompt. But he didn't like the smug look on his friend's face as she strolled away in her hideous pink outfit.  
He sipped his beer. There were a lot of people here tonight that he'd never seen before. It was usually the same Naval officer crowd every weekend, so this was interesting. And there were a lot of cute girls with their hair all teased and hair sprayed wearing things that made Bradley smile. 
Then his eyes caught on a denim jacket and a mini skirt on the cutest girl he had seen in a very long time. "Oh," Bradley gasped, finishing the last of his beer and setting the empty bottle down on the counter. You turned to laugh at your friend who was behind you, but your eyes caught on Bradley's, and he started stumbling through the crowd in your direction.
Then the DJ in charge of karaoke night called up the first singer, and the crowd closed in on the stage. "Shit," Bradley muttered. He lost sight of you amongst the too bright neon strobe lights. The song Sunglasses at Night started blaring, and Bradley couldn't find his friends either. The more he tried to shove through the crowd, the more dirty looks he got. 
Two more singers performed terrible renditions of songs that Bradley used to like until he heard them here. He figured you must have left, because he couldn't see you anywhere. With a sigh, he leaned against the back wall. And then Nat was there, pressing another beer into his hand. 
"Why do you look so pissy?" she asked over the music. 
He just shrugged and rolled his eyes at himself. "It's so dumb. But I saw the cutest girl, and then she vanished...."
There you were, not far from the DJ booth. You were dancing along to someone butchering Billie Jean. Bradley could barely see you through the crowd as he smacked Nat's arm. "It's her. Denim jacket. Little skirt. Fucking gorgeous face."
"Go talk to her," Nat told him with a grin that made him a bit nervous. 
"What do you think I'm trying to do?" he asked, looking for the best way to get over to you. The way you were dancing and laughing had Bradley smiling as he squeezed past Bob. 
When you spun in a slow circle with your friends, you froze, eyes meeting Bradley's again. This time you bit your lip and waved to him. 
Bradley laughed and mouthed, "I'm coming." He watched as you pressed your lips together and ducked your face down.
"Hurry up!" you called when the song ended. 
Bradley was about to start throwing elbows to get as close to you as possible. Then he heard his name.
"Rooster is up next! Where's Rooster?" called the DJ. 
Bradley let his head tip back as he groaned. He waved to the DJ and then winked at you. "Sorry," he mouthed as he smiled at you. 
You smiled and shrugged and that's when the DJ announced, "Rooster is singing that iconic song from Dirty Dancing, I've Had The Time of My Life."
He turned to glare at Nat where she stood against the back wall. "You picked a duet, you jerk! I can't sing that alone!"
But his attention snapped away from Nat when he felt your hand on his arm. You had managed to close the distance to him, and Bradley met your eyes as you let your fingers glide down his arm until they met his hand. 
"I'll sing with you, Rooster."
Bradley laced his fingers with yours, and you led him up to the stage as the bar was filled with applause. Bradley took the microphone from the DJ. You and he were going to have to share it, and he didn't mind that one bit. 
"Ready?" Bradley asked you, keeping his flingers linked with yours. 
"Let's do it." 
Bradley nodded, signaling they were ready to sing, and when the music started, you smiled up at him. He missed the first few words as his heart pounded, scrambling to pick up the lyrics as you giggled. 
Now I've had the time of my life. No, I've never felt like this before. Yes, I swear it's the truth, and I owe it all to you.
Then when it was your turn, Bradley was hypnotized by your voice. He could come up with about a hundred more duets he was dying to sing with you. Either here at the bar, or maybe back at his place. Maybe you'd let him have your number. 
He missed his next line again, completely distracted by you biting your lip and holding the microphone for him. "Shit," he said with a laugh, finally getting back on track again. But you seemed to know you were the reason he was distracted, and he could tell he was blushing. 
And when it was time to sing together, your voice blended perfectly with his. 
So we take each other's hand, 'cause we seem to understand the urgency.
And then you started to dance with him a little bit, just a sway of your hips, but Bradley moved along with you. It was perfect, the way you shared the microphone with him. The way your smile made the song even better. The way you laughed at the end when Bradley's face was close to yours and the room erupted in loud applause. 
"Thanks for bailing me out," he told you as he handed over the microphone. 
"You're welcome, Rooster," you told him with a smile that made him want to taste your lips. Then you were slipping your hand free from his as your friends called you over. You glanced at him over your shoulder, and Bradley turned back to the DJ while another singer took the stage. 
"I need you to let me sing again," Bradley told him. 
"One song per person, sorry."
Bradley rolled his eyes and pulled fifty bucks out of his wallet. "One more song? Right after this one?" 
And then, just like that, Bradley was signed up. When he turned your way, you were already looking at him, challenging him to make a move. 
"Excuse me," he said, encroaching on your friend group and holding out his hand for you to take. "But, my friend accidentally signed me up for another duet. Think you can help me out again?"
You slipped your hand into his and smirked. "Really? It looked like you signed yourself up this time."
He shook his head and pulled you closer to him. "Nah. Just a trick of the lighting, I think. It was definitely my friend."
Your laughter had him reaching his free hand gently around your waist, tucking it inside your denim jacket.
"That's a cute mustache," you told him, reaching up to touch his lip. "Did you grow it just for tonight?"
Bradley shook his head. "It's a permanent fixture."
"Oh, even better."
Bradley was thinking about it. He was going to do it. He was inching closer, ready to kiss you, when the DJ called his name again. "Rooster, you're up for an encore!"
The room erupted in more cheers as Bradley led you up to the stage, hand still at your waist. 
"Which song is it?" you asked over the applause, your lips next to his ear.
His smile grew as he promised, "You'll know it."
Then Don't You Want Me started playing, and you laughed as Bradley danced around on the stage, singing just to you until the chorus when you joined him. Your perfect, smiling lips were so close to his as you both sang "Don't you want me, baby! Don't you want me, ohhh!" together. 
And then he let you have the microphone for your part, and your voice sounded even better than the original song. He let his voice blend with yours again and again, but then too soon, the song was ending. He briefly wondered if he could get away with bribing the DJ for just one more song with you. 
He had the microphone in his hand, about to check if he had more cash in his wallet, when you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his lips. Right in the middle of the stage. Right in the middle of the applause and the neon lights and the DJ introducing Nat as the next singer.
Your lips tasted as sweet as you looked, and Bradley almost dropped the microphone trying to get his arms around you as well. You kissed his lips softly and then laughed before you let your lips skim over his mustache. 
"I had fun, Rooster," you whispered over all the commotion as you stepped off the stage with Bradley in tow. When Nat snatched the microphone out of his hand with a wink, you took his hand in both of yours. 
"Think they'll let us sing another song together?" he asked, watching the smile on your lips as you took your denim hair scrunchie off your own wrist and pushed it over his hand. He looked down at his left wrist, now adorned with it. "What's this for?" he asked with what he was sure was a dopey grin.
"Keep it, Rooster," you said, but suddenly your friends were there, slowly pulling you away from him. 
"Where are you going?" he asked, his heart lurching as he ran his fingers over your scrunchie and tried to follow you. But the crowd was closing in on him, everyone going wild for Nat singing Physical. "I don't even know your name!"
You called out to him as you blew a kiss, but he couldn't hear you. He shoved Javy out of the way, trying to get to you again. As the crowd thinned near the exit, Bradley ran outside after you. But you were gone. There was no sign of you or your friends. All that was left was your scrunchie, the songs stuck in his head, and the feel of your lips on his. 
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"I imagined her," Bradley said for the sixth time at work on Monday. "She was perfect, but she wasn't even real." He was stretched out on the couch in the aviators' lounge with your scrunchie in his hand and a pout on his face.
"She was real, Rooster," Nat told him with an eye roll. "We all saw her. We all saw her kiss you before she left. Maybe it was your choice of song? Maybe she didn't want you, baby?" she asked with a devilish smirk. 
Bradley launched the scrunchie at his friend's face, making her squeal. But then he was up off the couch immediately, running to collect his precious souvenir from the ground before anything happened to it. He balled it up in his hand and tucked it into the pocket of his flight suit. 
"It would be impossible to find her again. I don't even know her name," he mumbled, kicking his foot along the floor as he sighed. "She was just..." He was thinking about your voice as you sang and your pretty face and your vintage denim jacket. "Perfect."
Nat took a step closer and patted him on the chest. "There has to be some way... Oh!"
"What?" Bradley asked, meeting her bright eyes with his hopeful ones. 
"There would have to be other '80s karaoke nights around San Diego," she said quickly, pulling her phone out of her pocket. Bradley's heart filled with hope as she said, "We could go to them, and maybe she'll be there."
"Nat. You're a genius."
When Friday night rolled around, Bradley picked Nat up in her hot pink spandex, and they drove to a bar in Oceanside where a throwback night was in full swing. 
"See her anywhere?" Nat called over the loud music. 
Just then someone started singing Don't You Want Me. Bradley's heart leapt. But it was a guy with a terrible voice and a girl who wasn't you. 
"No," Bradley groaned, his heart full of frustration. "She's not here," he confirmed after walking through the entire bar. 
And the following night, Bradley and Nat went to a bar in Balboa Park, ready to search for you again. They walked into a room full of people dancing around and singing to a Bon Jovi cover band. 
After looking everywhere, taking his time to search the crowd, a dejected Bradley shook his head at Nat, and she followed him back outside to the Bronco. 
The following Friday was no better as they hit up a club downtown. After they had no luck there, Nat told him about another karaoke night in Pacific Beach. 
"This is it, Nat. This is the last one," Bradley told her, glancing at your scrunchie on the shifter as he drove. "If she's not here, then I need to stop looking."
"But, she could be-"
"Nat, come on. I've been like this for two weeks. I can't stop thinking about her, which is absolutely ridiculous. We sang two songs together, and then she bailed. I'm starting to think that even if I do find her, she's not going to remember who I am!"
She sighed in the passenger seat, and said, "I really hope she's here, just so I can see you proven wrong."
So Bradley searched the bar for you while he listened to so many bad singers in a row. He felt desperate now, knowing there wouldn't be another chance after this. And every time a denim jacket and a cute face caught his eye, he did a double take. But you weren't here either. The search was off now. 
"Let's go," he told Nat, swallowing hard as he headed outside. And then he tossed your scrunchie into the center console, started up the engine and left.
-------------------------
"Come on," whined Nat, pulling on Bradley's arm. "I'll be fun!" Bradley was trying to head home after working late on Friday, but she wasn't going to let him.
"I don't feel like going to the Hard Deck tonight." He just wanted to go home, relax and pretend like he didn't still have your scrunchie in his pocket half the time. 
But she stomped her foot. "No. You've been pouting. Javy, Bob and Jake are already there. We're going."
Bradley groaned and agreed to follow her to the bar to have exactly one drink. But when he walked in and realized that it was set up for karaoke, he turned to try to sneak back out.
"There he is!" Nat called, rushing forward to grab his hand before he had a chance to leave. "You promised. One drink."
"Fine," he grunted, sitting at the bar with his back to everyone else who was rushing up to pick a song to sing. And when Penny handed him a beer, he drank half of it in one sip, trying to finish it as quickly as he could. 
When he was done, he reached into his pocket to get his wallet, pulling out your scrunchie at the same time. He shook his head, ready to toss it into the trash can behind the bar. But then he heard the opening chords of I've Had The Time Of My Life start playing. He'd been listening to the song nonstop for weeks, and when he spun to face the stage, he saw you. In your denim jacket. 
"Rooster!" You had the microphone held up to your lips, and you were calling out to him. 
"It's you!" he called back, trying to make his way through the crowd to get closer as his heart pounded.
"It's me," you told him with a bright smile. "Looks like I accidentally picked a duet as soon as I saw you. I need a partner. Are you available?"
He pushed his way through the crowd and jumped up onto the stage. "Yeah, I'm available." Then your hand was grabbing the front of his shirt, and his lips met yours. The crowd was screaming and cheering as you smiled against his mouth. 
"I thought I dreamed you up," he told you, resting his forehead against yours. "Like a fairytale Princess in a denim jacket. Please don't leave this time."
"I won't," you promised, kissing him hard before turning to the DJ and giving him a thumbs up. When the song restarted, Bradley took the microphone and sang to you. 
Now I've had the time of my life. No, I've never felt like this before. 
Yes, I swear it's the truth, and I owe it all to you.
And then he opened up his hand, showing you that he still had your scrunchie. You gently took it as you smiled up at him in surprise, and then you slid it onto his wrist before taking his hand. But after that song, Bradley didn't even bother trying to bribe the DJ for more, because he had you in his arms, your name on his lips, and your phone number saved for later. 
-------------------------
If your man won't search the kingdom for you and then turn to a pile of mush when he finds you, then he's not the one. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls
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907 notes · View notes
sc0tters · 8 months
Text
Repeated Moments | Quinn Hughes
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summary: you and Quinn get a chance to see that your usual summer fling works all year round.
song: August - Taylor Swift
request: yes/no
warnings: bit of swearing, allusions to sex but nothing explicit.
word count: 1.41k
authors note: so the song August actually inspired the In His Arms series and I came up with it before this request came in. So I figured that I’d give you guys what was the other option that I had when building that series main character! If you want to see more of the celly you can find the playlist here!
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He was never yours for long enough.
It started back in 2020 one night at the lake house when you two had far too much to drink and you ended up in Quinn’s room with your clothes on the floor and you tangled in his sheets.
There was a joke that you’d end up like that one day, Ellen saw the way you looked at her son. She saw the way he looked at you too. In fact the only people who didn’t see it was Alex, Jack and their other friends.
Luke didn’t see it but he walked in once when you were on Quinn’s lap making out with him and once you swore him to secrecy the youngest Hughes vowed to never tell a soul.
Despite the fact that you sat Quinn down swearing that what happened could never happen again because you believed your brothers friendship was more important than a quick fuck, it seemed to continue to happen.
After the third and fourth time that you landed up in his sheets it was clear that this was bound to be more than just a drunken evening.
Quickly it began your secret, you’d go to bed waiting until everyone fell asleep before you’d make your way to Quinn’s room making sure that you were back in your room by the time Alex was woke up.
Sure there were a few times that you two were almost caught, Jack went to the bathroom early one morning and saw you leaving his brothers room, Alex came to your room to give you a blanket once and was met with your empty bed. Cole thought he heard moans coming from Quinn’s room but he just assumed that it was him being sleep deprived.
The moment it all should have been caught was when Alex saw the hickey on your neck that you chalked off to be a burn from your curling iron, your hair had been straight all week but your brother still offered to get ice for you.
Things continued on for another summer always ending when the first one left the lake house.
A spanner was thrown into the works though when Luke invited you to his debut game because he knew you were in New Jersey for the week. The young Hughes boy had a soft spot for you because when he was like twelve you threatened to punch Jack and Trevor if they continued to tease him.
Quinn didn’t know you were going to there but the signs should have pointed to it. Ellen came with a box of your favourite fudge that only this one small candy shop in Michigan made, you were the only one on this planet Quinn knew who ate it. Jack and Luke had been talking about a girl coming with Trevor and how they were surprised that she willingly had him accompanying her on the flight.
Trevor was the kind of person that you used to put up with, he was nice don’t get yourself wrong but he literally spent the first four years of knowing you trying to flirt with you. Sure you appreciated the fact that he found you pretty but his efforts began to get irritating after a while. To put it nicely you loved Trevor but you loved him even more when he kept his mouth shut.
But recently it seemed that you two had grown close or at least that’s what it looked like to Quinn. The younger boys arm didn’t leave your shoulders when you first arrived. Originally it was because the box was packed and you had the kind of luck that would have you lost within seconds. But after a while it grew comfortable there much to Quinn’s dismay and as a result he forced himself to muster up the confidence to go over and tell Trevor to hit the road.
Every jealous bone in Quinn melted when he saw your face light up “Quinny!” You giggled as you threw your arms around him, the moment was quickly interrupted with a scoff “how come I didn’t get that reaction?” Trevor pretended to act offended by it as he placed his hand on his chest. A smile formed on your lips as you placed a kiss on your middle finger before you flipped the younger boy off who ended up laughing as he walked off.
You got the chance to turn your attention back to the older boy “hi,” you giggled as you could still see the glare he was shooting at Trevor “Quinn?” You added as you snapped your fingers in front of his face.
Quinn forced a smile onto his face as he looked at you “what’s up?” He asked as you clearly now had his attention.
There was something on his mind that you were trying to figure out “you jealous?” You teased as you hadn’t really seen him like that before.
The boy let out a scoff “why should I be?” He shot back trying to play a defensive hand.
It was all clicking in your mind “you didn’t like how close he was getting to me!” You gasped as the Canucks player placed his hand over your mouth.
Quinn rolled his eyes as he could hear your muffled laugh from behind his hand “okay maybe a little,” he sighed as he dropped his hand “you’re cute when you get all jealous,” you teased as you leaned forward to kiss his cheek.
That seemed to hit a switch in his mind “fuck I missed you.” Quinn confessed as he wrapped his hands around your waist only being allow to give you a small hug as Ellen came over to you two the moment she saw your face.
the next morning
You groaned as you heard the noise of the knocks at your hotel room door “yeah?” You yawned as you swung the door open and were met with the younger of the two Hughes brothers “you know where Quinn is?” Luke asked as he sent you a smile when he held out a cup of coffee for you, it seemed that the boys made a pit stop on the way to your hotel.
Your lips pushed into a thin line “I haven’t seen Quinn since last night in the elevator,” you lied as you sipped the warm drink. You did see Quinn in that elevator, but it wasn’t the last time that you saw him.
Jack sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair “if you see him let us know?” He mumbled as Ellen had sent her sons on a mission to find him and they just thought that his best friends room would be a good place to start.
It was awkward “of course!” You nodded as you shut the door desperate to not say anything.
Quinn popped his head out from the bottom of your bed “you think they noticed me?” He asked as he cocked his head.
You fiddled with the ends of the shirt you were wearing “nope,” you looked like an absolute angel, hair all messy, lips swollen, the clear hickies that were beginning to form, and Quinn’s Canucks shirt.
Jack furrowed his eyebrows as he leaned against the elevator wall “what are you thinking about?” Luke could see that there was clearly something working in his mind.
The middle Hughes boy snapped his fingers “you see that Canucks shirt she was in?” He asked as the T-shirt looked like it came from a team development camp.
Luke began to think about it as he also had your oath he had in his mind “yeah,” it was that moment that the penny seemed to drop “oh my god!”
You and Quinn were totally oblivious to it all as you had both been in the shower to ‘save time’ “come back here!” Quinn’s complaint drew a laugh from your lips.
He wrapped his arm around your waist as he began to place kisses along your neck “Quinn!” You tried to move your head as the feeling of him was tickling your neck.
But all of a sudden when you went quiet the eldest Hughes boy stopped “what?” He asked as he scanned your face that was full of worry.
Alex 🖤: YOU FUCKED QUINN
Alex 🖤: I shouldn’t even be surprised
Alex 🖤: you did call him cute
Alex 🖤: on multiple occasions
Alex 🖤: just no making me an uncle just yet
“you think I’m cute all the time?”
“shut up,”
Maybe this time there will be more than enough time for you two.
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