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czenzo · 2 years

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Seven Years - Chapter II

[ao3] chapter links: [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ] [ 5 ] [ 6 ] [ 7 ]

summary: Charlie swung the door open, and his world promptly came crashing down around him. It had been seven years since Charlie last saw Nick Nelson, but he had barely changed – aside from the extra inch or so of height, the beard, and the fact he’d put on a bit of weight and muscle. Charlie’s brain couldn’t process it quickly enough, and so he simply stood, slack-jawed, waiting for Nick to say something.

Seven years after they broke up, Nick suddenly shows up at Charlie’s door, changing the course of their adult lives.

words: 2706 rating: M

note: tw for a brief mention of animal death (I'm so sorry), if you'd like to avoid it then once you reach “So how’s Nellie and Henry?”, skip to “How is she? Your mum?”

Charlie groggily opened his eyes and immediately winced at the sliver of sunlight peeping through his curtains. It gave him a moment to work out whether his memories of Nick showing up at his door were reality, or simply a cruel fantasy conjured up by his own sadistic brain, but no amount of time could help him reach a conclusion.

He was alone in his room. What time was it? A quick glance at his too-bright phone screen told him it was roughly seven o’clock in the morning.

Good god, that was way too early for him.

Charlie hauled himself out of bed anyway. The desire to find out if Nick Nelson had truly stayed the night after eating takeout and talking all evening long far outweighed his desire to stay in bed. He moved to the living room, footsteps light, and cautiously peered over the back of the sofa.

It was there that Nick Nelson lay, feet dangling over one end and hands tucked behind his head at the other, blanket loosely covering his body.

Charlie resisted the urge to reach out and touch him.

It was real. He was real.

He had another chance at keeping Nick Nelson in his life.

❃

Finding Nick still there had both startled and excited Charlie so much he knew there was no point in trying to get back to sleep; instead, he brewed himself a cup of tea and opted to read, keeping an ear out for Nick waking up.

He’d mentioned having his teacher conference today, but Charlie had absolutely no clue what time it was at. He could only hope Nick had set himself an alarm. (Though back when they were together, Nick had never set alarms. He’d never needed them on account of his body always naturally waking up at the right time, and Charlie had always envied it.)

True to form, he heard Nick stirring less than an hour later, without the need for a blaring alarm. Some things never changed.

It took him an embarrassing amount of time to work up the courage to leave his room – it was as if the previous evening had never happened, and his body was suddenly full of self-doubt and hesitation. He thought he'd left all of that in his teenage years. Having a hint of nausea in the pit of his stomach wasn’t a particularly pleasant way to start the day, and it was so stupid. If anyone should be feeling awkward, Charlie reasoned, it should be Nick. He was the one who did the breaking up, on account of–

No. Charlie shook that line of thinking away. He didn’t need to be wasting his time and energy on it. They were trying to rekindle their friendship; nothing more, nothing less. And Charlie was content to keep it that way.

When he finally emerged from his room, hands gently picking at his nails to ignore the way they trembled ever so slightly, he found Nick sat up on the sofa, scrolling through his phone.

“Morning,” Charlie said, startling Nick so much he was surprised the phone stayed in his hand.

“Jesus, Charlie,” Nick breathed, a smile forming on his face. “Morning.”

“Sleep well?”

“Yeah, yeah I did.”

“Good, good…” Charlie absently rocked back on his heels. “Have you had any breakfast?”

“Er– no, I wasn’t sure where to find any.”

The nausea in Charlie’s stomach subsided upon being reminded that he had the upper hand here – this was his flat, his space, and he was far more familiar with it than Nick was. It was going to be fine.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, feeling the tension melt from his muscles. “Cereal’s in the first cupboard on your left, uh, and there’s eggs in the fridge, or– y’know, I could just sort you something out myself. What do you want?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” Nick said, eyes darting this way and that as he tried to make a decision.

“I was gonna make an omelette, if you want one too?”

“I’m not gonna say no to that,” Nick replied. “There anything I can help with?”

“No, no, you’re fine,” Charlie reassured him as he made his way into the kitchen, hearing Nick call out his thanks as he went.

After seven years of not seeing or hearing from him, Nick Nelson was sitting in his living room while Charlie cooked breakfast for him. (All because he hit his car?) It was too strange to dwell on, and so Charlie busied himself with going through the motions of making food. As he cracked the eggs he tried not to think about Nick’s beard, while he whisked them he didn’t allow himself to remember the way his muscles strained the sleeves of his pyjama t-shirt, as he poured them into the hot pan he tried to forget the way his name sounded in Nick’s deeper voice, and while he flipped over the half-cooked omelette and added some cheese Charlie let out a sigh, because he’d failed at every step. The omelette turned out fine, but Charlie’s heart sure as hell did not.

He was falling for Nick again.

Fuck.

It was so stupid, so childish. Nick had moved on, and Charlie thought he himself had – no, he really had, he was fine and had even gone on dates and flirted at bars and kissed and teased men who weren’t Nick, who looked nothing like Nick, and who would never be Nick. He’d moved on until Nick reappeared at his door and Charlie was stupid enough to ask him to stay.

As Charlie was plating the first omelette, Nick entered the kitchen, and Charlie had a split second to straighten his deflated shoulders and widen his drooping eyes before the other man noticed.

“There you go,” he said, motioning to the plate with his spatula. “Oh, shit, I didn’t even ask if you wanted a drink or anything.”

“S’alright,” Nick said, taking his plate over to the kettle. “I’ll sort it. Tea?”

“Coffee, please.” God knew he needed it.

Charlie’s omelette was turning out significantly worse. He was hyper-aware of Nick’s presence behind him, as he munched on his breakfast and prepared their morning doses of caffeine. Luckily the tea bags, coffee, and sugar weren’t too hard to find, so Charlie didn’t have to listen to him asking where things were in his sleep-deepened voice, but it didn’t escape his notice how his arm bulged and stretched through his sleeve as he opened the fridge and reached for the milk.

Jesus Christ, stop staring, Charlie thought.

Nick had finished making the drinks and was about done with his omelette when Charlie finished making his own, and as they both returned to the living room he incessantly thanked and complimented him on the cooking.

“It was just an omelette,” Charlie said. “I’m not a renowned chef or anything.”

“Consider the career change,” Nick replied, sipping on his tea. He checked the time on his phone, and Charlie stole a glance too. It wasn’t far off nine o’clock.

“What time’s your conference thing?”

“Eleven,” Nick said. “It’s not far from my hotel though, and my hotel isn’t actually that far from here. It’ll be fine. You have anywhere to be today?”

“Mm,” Charlie nodded around a mouthful of egg. “Meeting up with Tao in a bit.”

Nick paused with his mug halfway to his mouth. “Tao? Are you still good friends?”

“Yeah, ‘course. I still speak to most of the secondary school lot, really.”

“Oh. That’s nice.”

“Do you?”

Nick made an uncertain noise. “Not really, honestly. After… everything that happened before I left for uni, it, uh. Conversations started to die out quicker, I guess. I talk to some of the rugby lads, and Tara every now and then, Isaac once in a blue moon.”

“Oh,” Charlie frowned. He didn’t know what he expected; once Nick left he’d been adamant about not bringing him up around his friends – he didn’t care if they spoke to him, it was none of his business. But knowing they all stuck with Charlie was… it was comforting, honestly, though he couldn’t ignore the twinge of guilt that hit him. Nick had been forced to start anew, at university without the cushion of having friends back at home.

That must’ve hurt.

Seventeen-year-old Charlie would’ve been glad to hear it, but twenty-four-year-old Charlie wasn’t so sure.

“It was fine, though,” Nick carried on, seemingly seeing the sadness in Charlie’s eyes. “I get why it happened. I still managed to settle into uni and make other friends, so it was fine.”

“Yeah,” Charlie said. They’d managed to stick to more light-hearted topics the night before as they stuffed their faces with Chinese food; the sudden shock of talking about their teenage memories in the morning light was almost too much.

But, Charlie supposed, if they were to try being in each others’ lives again, it had to be done.

“I bet Tao hates me now, doesn’t he?” Nick said with a laugh.

“Hate is a strong word,” Charlie replied.

Nick raised an eyebrow. “You’re avoiding the question.”

“So how’s Nellie and Henry?”

“Nellie…” Nick’s eyes were suddenly glued to his feet. “She, uh, she passed away a couple of years ago.”

“Oh,” Charlie breathed. “Oh Nick, I’m so sorry. That must’ve been so hard on you.”

“Yeah, it was. But, y’know, she lived a happy life, and everything. She really did try ’n stay as long as possible, but, once they get to a certain age… It’s kinder to… yeah. It wasn’t fair to force her to keep going.”

“She had the best life a dog could ask for.”

“I like to think so,” Nick smiled bittersweetly. “Henry’s doing well, though. Keeps my mum company between my visits.”

“That’s good,” Charlie replied, suppressing the wave of emotion that hit him at the mention of Nick’s mum. Sarah Nelson had been like a second mother to him.

Seven years.

God.

“How is she? Your mum?”

“She’s good, yeah. I think it was hard on her once I properly moved out after uni. When David left she still had me, so… But she adores Henry, and I try to visit as much as I can. How about your family? How's Tori?”

“Tori’s doing well, yeah,” Charlie nodded. “She’s still with Michael. He’s started not-so-subtly asking me questions about Tori’s preferences for rings. And, uh, mum and dad are fine. I visit when I can. And Oliver – ah, well, he’s grown quite a bit since you last saw him. Full-on teenager now. I’m starting to worry he might end up taller than me.”

Nick’s smile stayed on his lips all throughout, nodding along as he listened intently, and Charlie wondered how the bar was so low that that was enough to make him want to swoon. He took a deep breath, finished off his (now somewhat cold) omelette, and inhaled the last dregs of his (even colder) coffee.

“I’m glad they’re all doing okay,” Nick said, rising from his seat. “I should probably start getting ready. Thanks again for breakfast, Charlie.”

“No problem.”

❃

Cleaning and washing up was a welcome distraction from all the thoughts racing through his mind; if he focused hard enough on scrubbing a particularly stubborn piece of dried food, he almost forgot about the other person in his flat. (But not completely.)

He wasn’t due to meet Tao until later that afternoon, so Charlie was more than content to stay in his pyjamas for now. Nick, in the meantime, was in the bathroom, changing into… whatever it was that teachers wore to teacher conferences, no doubt pimping and preening himself to show off what Charlie could’ve had but didn’t get in his adult life.

No, no. He didn’t have the need for that kind of thinking. (What would it be like to kiss him with that beard?) Stop.

To drown out his thoughts even more aggressively, Charlie pressed play on his phone and badly sang along to the tunes that followed. It was a bad mish-mash of sung words, unsure noises, and humming when he didn’t know the lyrics, but it kept him occupied and happy – so much so, that he didn’t notice Nick come into the kitchen as he was drying off the dishes.

“I like this song,” Nick said, sending Charlie jumping ten feet into the air like a startled cat. “Oh, sorry. Thought you knew I was here.”

Charlie tentatively pressed pause on the music. “I… did not. But at least I’m properly awake now.” He placed the last plate into the cupboard and turned to face Nick, then immediately regretted that decision.

Nick was in a crisp, clean, white button-up shirt, perfectly tapered to rest on his broad shoulders and narrow at his hips, disappearing into a pair of trousers that hugged all the right places and reminded Charlie that Nick was an avid rugby player. The neatly knotted tie, the leather watch, the shiny belt buckle, the polished shoes…

Charlie almost forgot how to breathe.

“You look…” he paused. “Like a teacher at a posh private school.”

“Thanks. Exactly the look I’m going for,” Nick replied, leaning against the countertop and making Charlie hate him even more. “The other teachers at these conferences can be so pretentious sometimes. I hate how I feel like I have to impress them, or something.”

“Yeah, no, it’s really rubbish,” Charlie said unconvincingly.

Nick checked his watch. “I’ve already packed my stuff back into my suitcase, so I’m all ready to head off and check into my hotel. Hope they won’t mind I skipped a night.”

“Ah, yeah… At least you didn’t pay for it.”

“Very true,” Nick said, standing up straight. “Well, uh… thanks again for having me. It’s been nice.”

“It has, yeah,” Charlie replied, finding himself sounding more sincere than he intended to. He followed as Nick left to scoop up his suitcase and head to the front door. “Hope the conference goes well.”

Nick was reaching for the door handle when he stopped moving completely. Slowly, eyes narrowed with apparent uncertainty, he looked over his shoulder.

“Do you… wanna stay in touch?”

Charlie thought about it for a moment. The sensible side of him said no, that he should let Nick leave and forget he never came by just like he should’ve done yesterday, but the hopeful side of him said yes far too enthusiastically, said that they should stay in touch and make plans and slowly intertwine each others’ lives once again.

He sighed inwardly. There was, unfortunately, a very obvious winner.

“Sure,” he said, and Nick immediately pulled out his phone.

“Has your number changed?” he asked, and Charlie shook his head. “Oh. I was kind of hoping you’d say it had.”

“Why?”

“So I could pretend I didn’t still have it saved.”

Internally, Charlie screamed.

“You never were one for regularly cleaning out your phone,” he managed to reply. “Bet your camera roll is full of useless screenshots, too.”

“Haha, yeah, you got me. I’ll just– I’ll send you a message now to make sure it’s all in working order, yeah?”

Moments later, Charlie’s phone buzzed from his pocket. He pulled it out, unlocked it, and stared at the new message from an unknown number.

He’d deleted Nick’s contact long ago (seven years), but the number was as familiar to him as his own face. He’d recognise it anywhere.

Charlie created a new contact, and the message now read:

[Nick Nelson] Hey

It was so simple, so cautious, a message that seemed to tiptoe around him in fear of crossing an invisible line. Charlie didn’t let himself stare at it for a moment longer and slid the phone back into his pocket.

“Keep in touch. You’re more than welcome to visit while I’m here for the weekend, yeah?” Nick said.

He gave Nick one last farewell smile before he watched him leave and shut the door behind him.

Charlie closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and leaned his head against the door. He was full of uncertainty, doubt, and tentative excitement. He had no idea how things would turn out between him and Nick, but he was certain about one thing:

Tao was going to freak out.

#heartstopper #heartstopper fic #charlie spring #nick nelson #narlie #czenzo.fic #Seven Years

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fangirlandtheories · 2 years

Note

we need steddie

(or really any st)

fic recs

from you again

pls

Jesus, I'm sorry this took so long haha. For those who don't know, I received this ask about 4 days ago. Needless to say, the process of making a fic rec isn't a quick one. I'll leave them below the cut because it's a loooooong list.

-- The One Who Walks on the Grass By:Ragdolly

“Hi Mom! I’m going to stay at the Wheelers tonight so don’t wait up for me! Mrs Wheeler says it’s okay.” “What? But Dusty-“ She’s cut off. “Eddie came with Robin from the Video Store with movies so we’re going to watch together! Promise I won’t stay up late okay, love you, bye!” The disconnect tone hugs the corners of the quiet room, food now stopped steaming and Steve fighting to not feel as crumpled as the napkin on the table. Set in the kind of grey area before season 4 before vecna comes in in which steve kinda feels left out.

I’m beginning with this fic for a very important reason. This fic resonated with me in ways that I haven’t felt in a long time. The way that Steve feels in this fic is the way I felt in the friend group I was in when I was in highschool. It makes my heart clench because I can feel it! It’s also very focused on the relationship of Dustin and Steve which I absolutely adore. 10000000/10, one of my favorite fics ever.

Status: Complete

-- (something happens and I’m) head over heels by: GibbousLunation

Eddie made a strangled disbelieving noise, expression flickering. “You are not apologizing to me right now, for like, feeling a normal way about stuff. I can’t believe you.” Steve pushed a shaking hand through his hair. His heart rate no longer in his ears meant he felt he could at least think a little more clearly. “Maybe it was the heat. Doesn’t always have to be something messed up, right?” Eddie gave him a placating nod. “Sure, heat exhaustion is a helluva thing.” It had been happening a lot recently. The… forgetting. Zonking out. Whatever. He was pretty sure he was just extra exhausted, it had been a few weeks since everything but it might have just been the adrenaline or something finally wearing off. Sometimes it was like he just forgot someone was speaking, or couldn’t remember for a moment what they’d been talking about. Like blinking out of a fog maybe. It does not get better, in fact, it actually continues to get worse.

This fucking fic man. This fic nails the interactions between Steve and Eddie so well, you’d almost believe that Joe Quinn improvised them. The internal dialogue for Steve is so fucking gorgeous, I love this fic so much and you should just stop reading this review and hop to reading this fic instead.

Status: WIP

--A Helping Hand by: Anb_3005

Steve helping all his friends through their troubles while at the same time forgetting to get himself help Or All the times Steve helps his friends and the time they pick up that Steve is definitely not okay

I’m a sucker for Steve taking care of his friends while simultaneously forgetting about his own needs, and if you are too, then this is the fic for you. This fic has everything! Breakups, Skateboards, Haircuts, even MTV’s Dan Cortez.Okay maybe not Dan Cortez, but this fic is so good he’s not even needed.

Status: Complete

-- and i know that you don’t, but if i ask you if you love me—

by: fakecharliebrown

Once, only a few weeks before his parents decide he’s too old to be tucked into bed at night, Steve grabs his mother by the wrist and asks, “Does Father love me?” “Of course he does,” she says immediately, smoothing the blanket where it rests over his chest. Steve blinks up at her. “Then how come he never says it?” She purses her lips. “He shouldn’t have to, sweetheart. You should just know.” (It isn’t until years down the line that Steve realizes she’d somehow turned that into being his fault.) or; Steve Harrington through the years, on loving and being loved.

So I’m a goddamn sap, so anything about Steve discovering his self worth is like a hallmark movie during the holiday season for me and I love it. Steve is such a complex character that we know so little about, so I love seeing the breakdown that so many authors create. This one in particular is amazing and I highly recommend it.

Status: Complete

--Bloodletting by: grumpyhedgehogs

After a narrow escape from the Upside Down, it's hard to find your footing. Or: Steve Harrington deals with his terrible parents, Robin Buckley refuses to leave her best friend to fend for himself, and Eddie Munson simply will not stop lending Steve his clothes for no reason Steve can see. (Or: Steve cares too hard and too deeply to not have someone else care the same way about him. Everyone knows this except, apparently, for Steve.)

The genius of this fic, beyond great writing, is how spot on the emotion is. The insecurity isn’t too in your face, but it’s always there, lingering in Steve’s mind. His self worth is always gone, but Eddie seems to know just where to find it every time. You can feel the love in this fic, not just between the characters in the way they were written, but also between the author and their readers.

Status: WIP

--destiny has brought us oh so close together by: deadratz

The first time Eddie finds him, Steve is crying in the school bathroom after his breakup with Nancy. They're not friends, they don't plan to become friends. Somewhere along the way they become a lot more.

This fic is a collection of moments in time between the pair, but what I love is that the slowburn is fast enough to keep you invested, but slow enough to not jump the shark. Beware though, this fic is one that contains smut so be sure to cover your eyes if you can’t handle that. Very sweet moments filled with a pleasant mixture of angst and joy.

Status: WIP

--Every Breath You Take by: Raysisting

“I can’t do this anymore, Eds,” Steve whispered, swirling the whiskey around in his cup. “It’s getting to be too much for me. I don’t know how much more I can handle.” Approaching Steve as if he were a wounded animal, Eddie gently placed his hands on the brunette’s shoulders, rubbing soft circles into them. In front of Steve sat a letter, its contents blurred out by the tears that had come from Steve’s eyes when he first opened it. “What did this one say?” Eddie asks gently. Steve sniffles, taking a sip of the whiskey before he begins to speak, “He knows where we live.” ~~~ Or, Eddie’s a famous rockstar who has a stalker. Steve’s just trying to hang on.

This fic is still in it’s early phases but I really see the potential in it to become a very booming, popular fic as more chapters are added. A very original idea that’s is incredibly well executed so far. The buildup of fear and suspense so far has been very good but still remained subtle which is very impressive, so definitely give this one a read.

Status: WIP

--Fade Into You by:annabeeus

Steve Harrington doesn't need help. He just needs to get through this summer without completely falling apart. Unfortunately, it seems like Eddie Munson has other ideas.

(or: the one where they fall in love with each other, bit by little bit)

Don’t be fooled by the 5 chapter length, this fic is 50K+ words of pure brilliance. The attention to detail and the characterisation is nothing short of artwork. Please read this!!!! 10/10

Status: Complete

--Four Eyes by:Baff

Eddie thinks Steve hates him. He keeps looking at him suspiciously.

Steve wears glasses, and doesn't want Eddie to know. For normal, not emotionally charged reasons.

God I’m in love with this fic. It’s simple and sweet and sometimes that is exactly what you need. It’s a 2 chapter quick read that you won’t regret, plus the mental image of Steve in those glasses is just icing on a cake to be honest.

Status: Complete

--Freak Trumps King by: apatheticBlues

Okay, so not only is Steve Harrington apparently not a douche, but he’s also kind of a mess? Now that Eddie is properly looking, he notices the slight bags under Steve’s eyes and how his face is drawn, as if he hasn’t been getting enough sleep. That doesn’t make sense– Eddie would think that Steve is living a cushy life, with his mansion and parents that probably pamper him like a goddamned baby. This Steve doesn’t look pampered at all; instead, Eddie can see a familiar haunted look in his eyes that screams he’s just like you. ••• ••• ••• If you looked up the definition of "fucked-up" in the dictionary, Steve Harrington's face would be plastered right next to it. After living through two Upside-Down debacles now, it makes sense. Eddie Munson doesn't know about that, but he does notice how similar he and the former King of Hawkins High really are.

There’s a growing trend of Scoops Ahoy!Steve meeting Eddie and I’m so fucking here for it!!! I love imagining that Eddie lasted for more than a season so picturing him being involved with the Scoops Troop is one of my new favorite fantasies. I also love Eddie seeing Steve and being like ‘This isn’t the guy I remember and holy shit he looks hot and unhealthy.’ so if you also like that, this is the one for you. 10/10

Status: WIP

--Ghosts by:WeirdAn

Six years after Steve Harrington left Hawkins he has no idea who he is or what he wants to do with his life. Then he gets an invitation to Nancy and Jonathan's wedding. After that it seems that he cannot escape Hawkins, because his past apparently comes to haunt him, next thing he knows, he runs into Eddie Munson of all people.

Listen up kiddos, this is a smutty one so please be mature enough to read it. It’s artfully done with a sense of longing and the beautiful bitter sweetness that comes with growing up. It’s that humbling experience of returning to a place you once spent all your time, but you’re returning as a different person now. That’s the power of this fucking fic. It makes you feel the anxious hope of a new crush, afraid of the possibilities that arise from that but equally thrilled. This is an excellent piece of writing that deserves more recognition. 10/10

Status: WIP

--guilty as charged (but damn, it ain’t right) by: fais_do_do

This really was not how they had wanted to announce their relationship - beaten, bloodied and fresh from a jail cell. Or, Steve and Eddie deal with the aftermath of one night in late September and no one lets them do it alone.

The 80s were a time of technological and cultural revolution, a time in which the odd one out stopped trying to fit in with the Joneses, but that didn’t make it an easy time. This fic highlights the real life struggles that many queer people faced in real towns during the 80s. I love seeing Hopper in a protective stance, but especially with the teens because I think it’s been a bit brushed over that they are still children. Imagine making the decisions they make in the show, but you’re 17. 17 year old me was an idiot, 23 year old me is an idiot. This is a gorgeous work in progress showing two young men who have no idea how to be loved by adults (except Wayne ofc) finally getting the parental care they need. I’m in love with this piece and I can’t wait to read more. 100000/10

Status: WIP

--Heart Of Glass by: moonscarab “So, like.. sorry if this is overstepping or anything but what’s your relationship like with your family? I’ve just never heard you talk about them. I assumed you had a bad relationship with them. Family reunions out the window and all that.” Sometimes Eddie Munson could read Steve Harrington like a book. Dog ear the pages to save them for later, creasing the words a little bit but no worries. He could easily smooth the paper back out. - Or Steve invites Eddie to his family’s Christmas party

The only thing I have to say is ‘WOW.’ That’s a lie, I have a lot more to say. I genuinely thought I knew the general direction of this fic and then the most recent chapter, chapter 6 came out, and my jaw dropped. It's so good and I love the kind of spunky energy that Steve has. His parents are villainous without being out of character, a very impressive feat, and Eddie keeps his charm while remaining protective ad loving. The OCs fit the plot perfectly nd the pace is perfection. 11000000/10

Status: WIP

--Hells Bells by: multi_fandom_help_me

Steve Harrington has begun to hear the clocks ticking, and he knows Vecna is coming for him next. But he can't worry the kids when they have a plan. Will the group stop Vecna before he gets Steve, or will Steve have to face his worst fears at the hand of this monster? OR Eddie is the only one who notices Steve is acting weird, and while they get ~close~ he learns all about one Steve Harrington.

This is the Steve Gets Vecna’d fic that everyone has to read. It’s non negotiable. The attention to detail, the emotion, the codependency. This is the fucking fic. This is the one. It’s so good. Just read it, okay, don’t make me find you. I don’t wanna spoil anything so I’ll stop now, but oh my fucking God.

Status: Complete

--home is wherever I'm with you by: genesisofrhythm

After Steve learns Max has been living alone since her mother went AWOL, he takes her in. Now he has to balance semi-adopting a child, with his budding feelings for Eddie and figure out what the hell to do with his life in the process.

Max and Steve as siblings Supremacy. This fic has a really great dynamic between all the characters. It’s sad but sweet and it brings you hope. It really captures the feelings of conflict, do you forgive but never forget? How can you trust again? The love shines through most of all, making it one of the kindest fics I’ve read. 10/10

Status: Complete

--I think my kink is when you tell me that you think I'm pretty

by: Running_Mouth12

But Steve Harrington was never pretty. At least, he was never called that in a way that curled his stomach the way that Eddie Munson called him pretty. It hurt his guts in a way that left him spinning, like after riding a rollercoaster and getting up too fast after.

If you read my shit, you know the first tag, every single time, is Insecure Steve Harrington. That boy is dripping with insecurity and I love it because it’s fun to write about. This fic nails that and then some.ALSO SPANISH SPEAKING EDDIE AND FRENCH SPEAKING STEVE. I am absolutely living. It’s so so good, please do yourself a favor and read it.

Status: WIP

--I’ll Try Harder Next Time by: Tinyginger

Eddie is alive, he is. He's just in a coma, and trying to wake up. Steve is hanging on by a thread and spreading himself thin. The kids are struggling. But they all have each other

Dyslexic Steve is a given for me. No matter if it’s tagged or not, Steve, in my mind, is dyslexic in every fic and episode I’ve seen. I love this so much. This really holds onto the fear of letting himself relax for just a moment, and that is something I crave to read more of. If he lets himself take too deep of a breath, everyone will hear the wheeze kinda thing. He’s not doing well, he knows it, but he won’t do anything about it. It’s stubborn and gorgeously well written. 10/10

Status: WIP

--There's Something Below Rock Bottom by:mackwrites

Eddie Munson had knew a few things. He knew that there were certain rules to be followed, others to ignore. He knew (well, learned recently) that there was an alternate dimension under his hometown that was responsible for a lot of bad shit. He knew that a Critical Hit was oftentimes fatal. And that blow Harrington just took... Well. Eddie didn't like the odds. Or, those bats did a number on Steve, and no one is talking about it. Also, Eddie survives because I said so.

Ooh hoo hoo my H/C lovers this one is for you. It’s delicious in it’s fear, the pacing, the suspense, the whump. *chefs kiss* Seeing Steve try and fail at convincing everyone that he’s okay? Priceless. The gang worriedly making sure he’s getting taken care of in the same way he takes care of them? Worth a million. Hotel? Trivago. Just read it already, you know you wanna.

Status: WIP

--things to come by: birthdaycandles

“Steve?” Eddie interrupts again. Steve casts a glance in his direction, but Eddie is looking past him at the television with hazy eyes. “Yeah, I’m here.” Steve jostles his foot gently and gestures for the doctor to continue talking about fluid levels. By fluid, he’s pretty sure she just means blood. The blood that Eddie was coughing up, he figures. It had to go somewhere, so they must’ve drained it the same way they drained all the leaking air from Max’s lung. Maybe. He hopes Eddie’s uncle gets this stuff better than he does. “Don’t you live in Loch Nora?” Eddie asks just as the doctor is opening her mouth to speak again. Steve builds up to a sigh, unsure how exactly to tell Eddie to shut up when it’s not even his fault that he can’t, before he realizes Eddie’s gaze is still glued to the TV.

A goddamn masterpiece, that’s what this fic is.Steve running himself ragged without even knowing it, the guilt, the slowburn. It’s magical and you need to read it right this second.

Status: Complete

--I’m grateful for everything you put me through, it’s the only reason that I’m any good to talk to

by: Muntist

Steve learns a little bit about being loved.

A simple explanation, a complex fic. The little things that make you feel loved, those are the moments that this fic is made up of, moments that Steve didn’t have. It’s heartbreaking watching him see how other people are loved, how his parents never gave him that, as he realizes that they don’t even like him, let alone love him. It’s very emotional so 10000000/10

Status: WIP

--My Four-Leaf Clover by: isbuckybarnesokay

Steve wakes up in the hospital post-Vecna takedown, and he loves everyone. In the year that follows, he might even come to realise that they love him, too.

This is a sloooooow burn filled with longing and heartbreak, miscommunications and making up. Once you’re in, you’re in for the long haul as it really hooks you within seconds. You’ll feel a bit like Robin, screaming at the two for not seeing the other’s feelings, by the end and it’s such a delightful feeling. You’ll love it, trust me on that.

Status: WIP

These last few are actually series, so there will multiple fics.

--Under The Weather By: wayfarers0

a cold front: in which Eddie is sick as a dog and Steve offers a place for him to stay.

the cold shoulder: in which Steve catches feelings (and Eddie's cold)

These are such sweet works, highly recommended to all, but especially to my fellow sickfic lovers. You get a healthy dose of h/c affecting both Eddie and Steve, so whatever floats your boat, this fic has it.

Status: Complete

--Awareness by: honeycornbread

A series of fics about the important people in Steve’s life taking care of him as he comes to grips with having seizures.

One of my personal favorites. If you read my work, Let It Out and Let It In was inspired by these works by this amazing author. I love the vulnerability that they bring to Steve while still keeping him in character. As a huge lover of the belief that Steve would have seizures in the aftermath of his brain trauma, this fic hits the spot.

Status: Complete

-- How Do You Call Your Loverboy? by: fangirlandtheories

A collection of standalone fics based on requests.

This one is a completely shameless self plug. I worked very hard on these fics, so I hope you guys enjoy!

Status: WIP

That is all I had bookmarked for this request haha! I know it's a lot, but to be fair, there are so many talented people writing for this fandom and I want to include as many as I can. Thanks so much for the lovely ask!!!!!

#stranger things 4 #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic rec #fanfiction #fic rec #my writing #other people's writing #talented people #long post #so sorry about how long this is

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starryhyuck · 3 years

Text

pride. (m)

pairing: sugardaddy!xiaojun x reader

words: 4.7k+

summary: stacked with two jobs, tuition bills and rent payments, an opportunity falls into your lap that leaves you wanting more.

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: creampie, breeding kink, semi-public sex, oral sex, degradation, overstimulation

It all started before you hit rock bottom.

When you enrolled in college and decided to study music, your parents refused to pay for your tuition as they had hoped you would pursue law instead. You’ve been passionate about music since you were younger, and financial burdens were not going to hold you back from pursuing your dreams.

You spend most school nights working a low wage job, and switch to a different low wage job on the weekends. You hardly had time to balance studies and work, but in order to make ends meet, you fill your body with caffeine and call it a day.

You’re in the middle of wiping down the counter of the campus’s local ice cream parlor, ignoring the email you received from your landlord minutes ago. It was yet another warning notice to pay last month’s rent, a task you’ve been putting off for weeks.

There’s barely anyone who comes into the shop this late at night on a weekday, only a few who have a midnight craving they have to fulfill. You’re surprised when Doyeon comes barging into the shop at half past midnight, dressed to the nines in her custom Versace gown.

She sighs and throws herself down on one of the parlor chairs. “I feel sick to my stomach. Is it possible for your intestines to hurt so much from champagne?”

You laugh at her. Doyeon was your first friend when you came to campus, and you were blissfully unaware of how wealthy she was until three months into your friendship. Her mother recently remarried and Doyeon despised her stepdad, but she never had any complaints about the money he carried with him. Doyeon’s offered to pay off some of your loans so that you wouldn’t have to work two jobs, but you always turned down her offer. You couldn’t take money from her — you had to have a little bit of pride.

“What happened now? More sleazy old men hitting on you?” You question, leaning over the counter to ask her.

“You know me so well,” she sighs, her curled hair styled perfectly down her shoulders. She removes her heels for a bit so she can breathe. “And Doyoung was complaining the entire time, pissing off my mom. You know how my brother is.”

You’ve met Doyoung once or twice, and he was very similar to Doyeon — confident, smart and not afraid to speak what’s on his mind. Doyoung had a very difficult time adjusting to their mother’s new beau.

“You know what would be nice?” Doyeon asks, eyelashes fluttering at you. “If you come with me next time.”

“You know I can’t,” you decline, moving to check on the tubs of ice cream. “I’m too busy with work and school. Can’t leave for a night of luxury.”

“But you can,” she whines loudly. “Just let me pay your rent for last month and we’ll call it even!”

You roll your eyes. “I hardly call that even, Doyeon.”

She huffs. “Please? I can’t stand to go to another one of these things and listen to those snotty people tell me how lucky I am that my mom found that douchebag. You would make it so much more fun, and save me from a night of torture.”

For the first time, you’re contemplating Doyeon’s offer. You’ve known for a long time now that you’re running low on funds, and you’re scared that if you don’t find a way to pay your landlord, he’ll end up evicting you. Your eyes glance up to meet Doyeon’s, who has her puppy dog gaze turned on.

You sigh. “Just one event. That’s it.”

She squeals, and almost jumps over the counter to hug you.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you, thank you!”

You awkwardly pat her back. “Yeah, yeah.”

—

Doyeon failed to tell you that the event she was dragging you to would actually take place within a week.

You scrambled to find a dress and how to style your hair, knowing that if you showed up in an off-brand name, you would immediately look like an outcast. Doyeon saved you from the humiliation, shoving you into a Valentino dress that had your eyes rolling out of your head at the price tag. She also hired a hairstylist on the day of to come over and fix you up, which you clearly disagreed on until Doyeon told you it wasn’t up for debate.

And now, here you were, standing in the middle of the most luxurious place you’ve ever stepped foot in. Doyeon leans over to whisper to you while you’re eyeing the waiters and waitresses walking around with trays of champagne.

“Just smile and act like you only care about money.”

She tugs you forward and you try your best to match her pace. A girl approaches you two first, nails wrapped around the stem of her glass. She’s wearing one of the most beautiful gowns you’ve ever seen, a Chanel piece her mother imported for the event.

“Hyojung, you’re way too young to be drinking anything,” Doyeon scolds.

“Calm down, mom. No one’s snitching except you. Who have you brought?”

Doyeon beams and loops her arm through yours. “This is my friend from college.” She gives Hyojung your name and you offer your best smile.

Hyojung returns your grin. “Nice to meet you. Where do your parents work?”

Doyeon opens her mouth to tell Hyojung the truth, but you stop her.

“They own a few chain businesses in our hometown. Nothing too grand,” you inform. Hyojung nods in agreement, eyes darting somewhere else.

“Well, Chanwoo is here. I’m going to get the gossip that he owes me from last time.”

When Hyojung leaves, Doyeon frowns at you. “Why did you lie?” She questions.

You shrug. “I would rather not be a fish out of water here more than I already am. It’s better if people think I’m at least middle class.”

“Okay,” she says slowly. “You know I’m not ashamed of you, right?”

You giggle and pat her cheek. “Of course I know.”

“Finally!” You hear someone exclaim, and you turn to see Doyoung rushing over to the two of you. “Where the hell have you been? Mom’s going to murder you for showing up so late.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Relax. We took a long time getting ready.”

Doyoung smiles gently at you before tugging his sister away. You feel even more awkward, hands folding together as you sway in the middle of the room. The people around you are talking animatedly and you can faintly hear the sound of the violin in the back of the room. You wonder if you should pretend to go to the bathroom or find somewhere to sit-

“Never seen you here before.”

You turn to see a guy your age, dressed in a full Armani suit and Rolex watch shining under the sparkling chandelier. You awkwardly clear your throat.

“Uh, yeah. My friend brought me. Do I look that weird?”

He chuckles, running a hand through his chestnut locks. “You look beautiful. I’ve just been to plenty of these galas before and I’ve pretty much memorized the guest list.”

Your heart lingers on his compliment and you avert your gaze.

“My first one. Are they always like this?”

“Boring, you mean?”

You laugh and he joins in. You swear you feel butterflies frantically flying in your stomach.

“So, what’s your story? Also have rich parents?” You ask.

He nods. “My mother owns half of the city’s major businesses. I’m Xiaojun, by the way.” You give him your name and he smiles, motioning to the back of the room. “Want to talk where it’s a little less loud?”

You agree, smiling and taking his arm as he leads you to the less chatty part of the room. You both sit on a luxurious velvet couch, a piece of furniture that most likely costs more than your entire apartment. Xiaojun hands you a glass of champagne, his smile taking your breath away.

“Tell me a little bit about yourself,” he muses, eyeing you carefully.

You laugh. “Is this a job interview?”

He shrugs. “Could be.”

Your eyebrows furrow at his answer, but you figure rich people were always weird and vague like that. “I go to the same college as Doyeon, and I’m studying music. Not really much to say, I spend most of my time working.”

He nods, and you can’t place what the look in his eye is for.

“Music, that’s interesting. What made you decide to take on such a daunting major?”

“Daunting as in it’s not law or business?” You counter, giving him a look.

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Hey, no judgment here. In my world, I haven’t met anyone who isn’t a law or business major. It’s nice to have a change of scenery.”

He challenges your gaze, and you feel a warmth in your stomach you haven’t felt in months. You jump when you hear the shriek of your name and Doyeon comes charging towards the two of you.

“There you are! Jesus, I had to hear Doyoung fight with my stepdad for almost ten minutes.” Her exasperation turns into surprise when she sees Xiaojun seated next to you. “Oh! Hey, Dejun. Didn’t see you there.”

He offers a smile. “Hi, Doyeon.”

“Do you mind if I pull her away for a bit?” Doyeon asks, but she’s already looped your arm through hers. You slightly protest when she tugs you away from Xiaojun, but you’re immediately distracted by her next question. “What the hell were you doing talking to him? You know what Xiaojun is famous for, right?”

You frown, looking over your shoulder again to see him, watching as his line of sight carefully follows you and Doyeon.

“No, I don’t. He seemed nice. What’s the issue?”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “He’s a sugar daddy. Always looking for new sugar babies to satisfy him. He’s been blowing through girls like the wind for the past year. He’s not good, and I don’t want you in his company without me.”

You try to process that the man you were just talking to was, in fact, scoping you out to get a potential new sugar baby. You can’t wrap your mind around it, even when Doyeon drags you to the corner of the room, where Doyoung and her stepdad are still fighting.

Your eyes linger on Xiaojun’s table, but he’s already long gone.

—

“Nice shop you got here.”

You practically jump out of your shoes at the sound of the familiar voice, almost spilling a cup of ice cream down your front. You nearly get whiplash with how fast you spin around, eyes widening at the sight of Xiaojun standing in the middle of the ice cream shop. Your manager, Seojeong, raises an eyebrow at your skittish nature.

“Is there a problem here?” She questions, but you immediately brush her off.

“No, no problem!” You squeak. You immediately rush over the counter and push Xiaojun out of the shop. “Seojeong, I’m taking my 15!”

“Um, okay?”

Once you’ve got Xiaojun on the street, you take notice of what he’s wearing - another dark Armani suit, same Rolex watch, and hair styled in a way that’s meant to make your panties drop. You push back your thoughts and whisper harshly to him.

“I know why you’re here.”

He raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Do you now?”

“Yes, I do,” you state confidently, tilting your chin up. “Doyeon told me about your little sugar daddy scheme.”

He laughs. “Ah, is that what they’re calling it now? Didn’t realize I was such a bad guy for wanting to help out girls in bad situations.”

You scoff. “Do you get off on this? Lowering yourself to the underprivileged lives of the poor? Pretending to be the hero that saves the damsel in distress?”

He snickers at your line of questioning, shoving his hands in his pockets and eyeing you. He leans down so that you’re face to face, and you falter as he becomes closer to you.

“And if I do? What if I like giving you money so you don’t have to work two jobs?”

“How do you know I have two jobs?” You inquire.

“You looked so lost at that gala. I told you I’ve memorized the guest list — you’ve never been on it. It became relatively easy to discover the rest of the details. It must be exhausting doing this everyday, haven’t you ever wanted a break?”

You fold your arms across your chest and take a step away from him. “What’s in it for you?”

He grins. “The pleasure of your company.”

“What kind of company?” You ask, doubting him. You won’t lie and say the offer isn’t intriguing to you. You still have pride, definitely, but the weight of two jobs has really taken a toll on you lately. Plus, Doyeon said Xiaojun breezes through girls anyways. You could get a break from paying your rent for a few months and before you know it, he’ll move onto the next charity case he wants to help out.

There’s no harm in that, right?

Your thoughts are blown through the window, however, when his smirk grows wider. You’re sure there’s a large damp spot in your underwear right now.

“Whatever company you like, little one.”

You’re fucked.

—

You keep the relationship with Xiaojun quiet and under wraps. You know Doyeon would have many thoughts about your choice, and she would probably convince you to let her pay your bills instead of Xiaojun. You couldn’t place that burden on her shoulders.

Surprisingly, Xiaojun doesn’t ask for much. He swings by the ice cream parlor once a week, drops off a $1000 check, stays to chat for a little, and leaves. Seojeong doesn’t raise any questions, albeit you’ve seen her glance at the envelope you leave in the back room. You would’ve thought that Xiaojun is the type of guy who invites you over to his penthouse apartment to get to know him, but he’s been quite reserved. He never crosses the line with you, and his questioning stays on the topic of your classes and work. You continuously wonder how to captivate his attention and if the other girls before you failed to do so.

About a month into the deal, your patience wears thin. You’re not even really sure why you’re frustrated in the first place. Anyone would love a no strings attached deal like this, getting $1000 every week with barely any commitment. You quit your other job because you don’t need both paychecks now and you’ve been able to keep up on rent. However, a part of you expected to be close with Xiaojun in some way at this point, especially considering the way he was flirting with you when he first propositioned this.

You’re fully prepared to confront him on Friday night, the same day he usually drops off the check and chats with you for a bit. You practically throw yourself over the counter when he takes a step inside the shop, yelling over your shoulder to Seojeong that you’re taking your break.

Xiaojun laughs at your eagerness, allowing you to tug on his suit as you pull him outside.

“Someone’s excited today. Need the check that badly?”

You frown at the accusation and exhale. “No, as a matter of fact, the money you’ve given me so far could probably cover me for a year.”

“Then what’s with the frowny face?”

“There’s a catch here, Xiaojun, I know there is. You’ve been too nice,” you say, waving a finger at him.

He smirks. “Have I been? I told you, little one, all I need is your company. You’ve given that to me every week, haven’t you?”

You scoff. “Barely. We talk for a few minutes while I’m making orders for other customers and then you leave. I would hardly call that company.”

He gets even cockier, if that was humanly possible. Xiaojun has to know what he’s doing to you — the mystery of his true personality starting to make you curious.

Similar to your first meeting, he leans down until he’s a few inches from your face, eyebrow raised. “Didn’t mean to neglect you, little one. Did you want more from me?”

You shift awkwardly, tension building in your stomach from his words. He was clearly teasing you and his patience was stronger than you previously believed. He waited a month just to have you desperate like this, wanting something more than a few minutes of his time. You’re so wet at this point that you’re definitive Xiaojun knows.

To prove your point, his smirk grows wider. “What are you doing after your shift?”

“U-Um, I have some homework to finish-“

“Great, I’ll pick you up after work and you can finish it at my apartment.” He doesn’t give you any time to protest, moving closer to you, his breath hitting the shell of your ear. “Next time, little one, just tell me you need more attention. Daddy will gladly give it to you.”

—

You’re a nervous wreck when Xiaojun’s expensive Rolls-Royce pulls up to the curb after your shift has ended. His car looks terribly out of place on the streets of your dirty campus, but he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. You quickly get in and ask him to go before anyone can recognize you.

The ride to his apartment in the upper part of town is filled with silence, making you even more jittery. Xiaojun, on the other hand, is calm and collected with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the console. You try to swallow your nerves and reason with yourself.

This is just Xiaojun — son of a multimillionaire, heir to many respective companies within the city. This is just Xiaojun — the man who’s been giving you $1000 every week with no strings attached, the man who’s clouded your dreams for the past month on more than one occasion.

Unfortunately, you don’t have any more time to dwell on your thoughts when Xiaojun pulls up to the parking garage of his complex. The both of you exit the car and he hands the keys to one of the valet drivers. His fingers fall to the small of your back as he guides you inside.

You try to avoid the blatant stares from other residents. You’re still dressed in your work clothes, a simple t-shirt and pair of jeans, but you couldn’t look more like a fish out of water. Xiaojun doesn’t seem to mind, walking into the elevator and pressing the top floor button. You ride the elevator in silence, and your eyes nearly fall out of your head when you reach the penthouse.

The apartment is straight out of the movies. The decor is extravagant, and you’re afraid if you touch anything, you’ll have to pay a fine. Xiaojun leads you to the dining room, pulling out a chair for you, despite your confusion.

“You can finish your homework here. I’ll be in the study upstairs.”

“Wait wait wait,” you stop him, placing a hand on his chest. “You’re leaving?”

He grins. “Did you want me to stay?”

He was really going to make you beg for it. Your eyes narrow and you feel a burst of confidence run through you. You tilt your head up until you’re a few centimeters from his mouth.

“You said Daddy would give me more attention if I asked for it.”

He growls, eyes darkening. Before you know it, he has you pinned to the grand table, staring at you as if you’re his last meal. It’s your turn to smirk as his control snaps, fingers digging into your hips roughly.

“Think it’s fun to test me? The other girls before you were more behaved,” he hisses, eyes wandering to the valley of your breasts.

“But you don’t like that, do you? You like it when they disobey,” you murmur, pulling him closer to you. “You like giving them their punishment.”

Xiaojun’s lips are pressed to yours before you can even fully register what’s going on, his body locking you against the wood. You whimper, hands gripping his forearm to keep steady. It’s messy and frantic, and you can see all of the built up tension starting to show.

“What would Doyeon think of you whoring yourself out for money?” He snickers, making you feel small under his gaze. “I bet she would be so ashamed. Little one gave up her pride for a few thousand dollars?”

You whine. “It’s not like that.”

“But isn’t it?” He questions you, fingers unbuttoning your jeans and sliding them down your legs. You wish you had worn a sexier pair of panties today but Xiaojun seems satisfied nonetheless, snapping the elastic against your skin. “Can’t wait to get a taste of this cunt. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it, little one?”

You probably look pathetic like this — half of your body sprawled across Xiaojun’s dining table, pants around your ankles, and a large wet spot ruining the fabric of your underwear. You pitifully nod in response to his question, eyes locked on the bulge straining against his expensive trousers. He chuckles when he follows your line of sight.

“Hungry?”

You fall into the role so easily. “Yes, Daddy.”

He directs you on your knees, the cold marble floor sending a shiver up your spine. You eagerly watch him unbuckle his belt and exposing his leaking cock for you. The tip is red and angry, demanding to be touched.

“Go ahead, little one. Make Daddy feel good.”

You wrap your mouth around the tip, nearly moaning at the taste of him. You haven’t been intimate with someone in so long and his cock has your mouth watering.

“Good girl,” he soothes, pushing his cock further down your throat. Tears immediately spring into your eyes when he ignores your gag reflex, hands gripping the back of your head as he guided you. “Shh, doing so well for me, little one.”

You allow him to fuck your mouth, trying to brush aside the tears falling down your face and saliva pooling at the sides of your mouth. It’s filthy and you love it — you haven’t been used like this in months and you never realized how much you missed it.

“Your mouth is so perfect, fuck,” he groans. “I’ll pay for anything you want if you stay on your knees like this, all pretty for me.”

You gasp when he lets you breathe, pulling his cock away. He chuckles at you, fingers returning to stroke himself as he watches you regain yourself. He tugs you back on your feet, overlooking your wobbly legs and pushing you into the living room. You’re about to question him on what he’s doing until he’s shoving you up against his glass window. You gaze downwards, seeing a plethora of people passing by on the street and cars honking to one another. It’s a view you only see in the movies, and you know Xiaojun’s eager to fuck you into the fantasy.

His fingers slide into your underwear, breath hot against your neck. “Look at all of them down there, little one. Bet they want to be just like you, fucked so good for everyone to see. Even better when I cum inside you, hm?”

You freeze. “D-Daddy,” you whisper frantically. “I’m not on the pill.”

He’s silent behind your figure before you feel him playing with your folds, your wetness coating his hand.

“Isn’t that nice? What do you think of getting knocked up, little one? This entire place could be yours, you would never have to step foot in that ice cream shop again. All the wealth you never imagined, you could spend all day in bed with me while I stuff you full. You would look so pretty on Daddy’s arm. I wonder how many times we could sneak away from the crowd so I could fuck my cock into you. Wouldn’t that be a dream?”

You gasp, growing wetter by the second. He easily slides a finger into your heat and all common sense is thrown out of the window.

“Please fuck me, Daddy,” you beg. “Please please please. I’ll be good for you, I promise.”

He laughs at your desperation, pushing another digit inside. “Even though you’re not on the pill? How filthy of you, little one.”

It’s sick. You barely know this man but all you want is his cum inside you. You can imagine the headlines now — Millionaire’s Son Gets Poor Girl Pregnant. But you want it. You want it so badly.

You hear the tearing of your panties but you couldn’t give a fuck what happens to them, pushing yourself further into him. He laughs again at you, tip lining up to your entrance.

“Beg for it.”

You cry. “Please, Daddy! I want it, I’ve been so good for you! I’ll let you cum inside me and everyone can watch. I want them to see who I belong to.”

“Fuck,” he growls at your submission. You nearly scream when he pushes into you, his girth bigger and thicker than you’ve ever taken before. On top of that, you haven’t had sex in months and the stretch is almost unbearable. Your head rolls back but Xiaojun grips your chin and forces you to look outside the window. “Look at all those people, little one. They’re about to get a nice show.”

He gives you no time to adjust, thrusting into you like he wants to break you. His fingers tangle into your hair and he pulls roughly, causing you to yelp at the pain. You’re past the point of coherent thinking, Xiaojun’s cock fucking you so good you can barely talk.

“Good, little one?”

“Mmf,” you gurgle, gasping at the force of his movements. You can feel him in your throat, and it’s as if he’s waited all these weeks just to spill his seed into you.

You tumble over the edge when he pinches your clit, whispering the dirtiest confessions into your ear. “Needy whore,” he laughed sinisterly. “Probably can’t go a day without my cock after this. Going to be begging me for it, wanting me all the time now. I can’t wait to take you everywhere and anywhere I please. I’ll buy you so many cute outfits, little one. So many skirts that make it easy for me to slide right inside and fuck you until you’re crying for me.”

You clench around his cock and fall over the edge, your wetness spilling down your thighs.

“Daddy,” you breathlessly hiss, body going limp in his arms.

“You came so much for me, little one. Your slutty cunt is so good for me, isn’t it?”

“Please, Daddy,” you plead. “Please, Daddy. I want to feel your cum.”

“Yeah?” He grunts, the sound of his balls repeatedly slapping against your pussy echoes around the room. “You wanna get pregnant? All baby wants is a big fat cock to stuff her full of cum, hm?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you cry out, not even caring how pitiful you look at this point. “Want it so badly.”

Your desperation snaps the cord inside of him and he spills every last drop into you. You whimper at the warm feeling, some of his cum starting to drip out and coat the inside of your thighs. You both attempt to catch your breaths, your legs feeling like jelly.

You’re about to move away from him until Xiaojun keeps you pinned to the window, stopping you from leaving.

“W-What are y-you doing?” You ask, still out of breath from the fucking you just received.

“I don’t think that was the one,” he muses, eyes locked on where you two are intertwined. He offers an experimental thrust that has you scrambling.

“No, no,” you sniffle, trying to move away from him again. “I can’t, I can’t.”

“I think you can,” he chuckles, enjoying the way your cunt wraps so nicely around his cock. “And you will. Haven’t gotten you pregnant yet, little one.”

You spend hours fucking like bunnies with Xiaojun taking you on almost every surface of his apartment. You don’t even care that you’re impregnated, allowing him to use you in any way he pleases while the sun falls under the skyline.

Your pride didn’t matter that much anyways.

#nct smut #wayv smut #xiaojun #xiaojun smut

1K notes · View notes

bestiesenpai · 4 years

Text

Taker - Sukuna

Step brother Sukuna is very different from step brother Itadori. Femme reader

Part two

TW: dubcon + noncon, pseudoincest, light degradation, forced orgasm, hitting(is this even the right tag lol sukuna hits you but it’s not impact play)

Ever since your mother married Sukuna and Yujis father, your life had been different. You moved into their house, your mother took the last name Itadori, and you gained two older brothers. They were twins in fact, but they couldn’t act more different from one another.

Yuji was nice and unassuming. He and his brother helped carry your stuff to your room, but Yuji didn’t complain the whole time. Yuji was quick to help you acclimate to your new way of living and he was always there if you wanted to talk about anything and everything.

Sukuna was brash and sometimes downright mean to you. Whenever he passed you in the hall, he called you a mean nickname and bumped you in the shoulder. He spent most nights out of the house, sometimes not coming home until a few days later with soiled clothes reeking of cigarettes. Sukuna made it clear he disliked you, and he would sometimes go out of his way just to annoy you.

He’d pull your hair, trip you, mess with your food and just other childish things he knew he could get away with. He never did anything too horrible, so the most your parents could do was talk to him and it would stop for a few days before returning with just as much force. Yuji tried to help as well, but it seemed nothing would change.

Sitting on the couch in the lounge room watching a movie, you thought you were free from Sukuna. He’d just come home from another stint of being who knows where, and usually that meant he’d shower and not emerge from his room during the day. But the familiar heavy footsteps coming down the stairs said otherwise.

“Hey twerp.” He smirked as he rounded the corner and saw you. Rolling your eyes, you ignored him. He could easily get a rise out of you and you were trying to prevent it. Leaving the room quickly, he came back with a bottle of water and hovered near your seat.

“What do you want?” You groaned, feeling irritated just by his presence.

“What, I can’t see what my dumb little sister is watching?”

“Step sister.” You were quick to correct him. Yuji could call you his little sister, but Sukuna wasn’t allowed.

“Whatever. Scoot over.” Roughly pushing your shoulder, Sukuna effectively squeezed himself between you and the arm of the couch. “Jesus, you leave a guy with no room!”

“You’re not even supposed to be here!” Pushing back, you were easily overpowered by him. Attempting to scoot over, Sukunas arms wrapped around your ribs and hoisted you on his lap. “Let go!”

“Stop freaking out.” He huffed, unfazed by the elbow that landed in his chest.

“Stop it!”

“God, you’re fucking annoying.” Growing tired of your fighting, Sukuna threw an arm over yours and pinned them to your side. Hooking his legs around yours as well, he reduced your fighting to useless squirming. “Now sit fucking still.”

“Why are you even here?” Reluctantly, you relaxed your body.

“I’m just trying to bond with my little sister!”

“Step-”

“Shut the fuck up with that bullshit.” Sukuna barked, and his hand landed with a loud smack on your thigh. “If that idiot Yuji gets to call you his sister, then so do I.”

“You don’t even like me.” Rubbing the sore spot on your leg, your shoulder jerked when he rested his head on it.

“Don’t make such assumptions, you might hurt my feelings!” Squeezing you briefly, Sukuna let out a hum. “We just need to get to know each other, that’s it.” You opened your mouth to say something snarky, but a swift pinch to your side stopped you.

Huffing, you tried to focus on the TV. There wasn’t anything you could do about Sukuna now, so the next best option was to just wait until he left of his own accord. His arms around your middle loosened up at feeling you finally relaxing, and for a short moment, it felt almost normal. Sukuna even took the blanket that you’d had over you and placed it back across your legs.

“So twerp, what’s this shit about?” Nothing lasts forever.

“Just shut up and watch.”

“Ouch, who knew you were such a bitch?”

“I am not!” Forcing your body to turn, you glared at him. As soon as Sukuna saw your angry face, he laughed, a deep and hearty sound rumbling from his chest. Feeling embarrassment burn your cheeks, you turned around and tried to ignore him.

Sukuna continued to laugh at your expense with his mouth right by your ear. Swatting at him, you tried to lean forward to get away from the sound. Feeling you sliding away, Sukuna slapped a hand onto your chest and yanked you back.

“Now where do you think you’re going?” His blow knocked the air out of your lungs and his chin dug into your shoulder. Unable to answer, a strangled noise left your lips when you realized his hand had landed right on your breast.

“L-let go.”

“What’re you getting so worked up about?” Rolling his eyes, Sukuna groped your breast harder. The fabric of your bra was stopping him from really feeling anything besides the shape but it didn’t stop him from molding the flesh in his hands.

“Stop it.” You whined, and Sukuna echoed it back at you.

“Stop!” He teased you in a shrill voice. “Let go of me! Why are you even here? God you’re so annoying!” Growing bored, Sukuna put his hand under your shirt and tugged your bra down, the hot skin of his palm meeting your chest.

“Sukuna!” A shrill cry of his name echoed in the living room when he pinched your nipple harder than anyone ever has. You dug your nails into his arm to try and get him to stop, but it only made him want more.

“Shouldn’t you call me big brother?” Nuzzling his nose into your neck, Sukuna massaged your breast roughly.

“No.” Shaking your head, you squirmed on his lap. Despite the rough treatment he’d given you so far, your body was flush with heat.

“No? But then, why does Yuji get to be big brother?” Sukuna pouted and his hand stopped moving.

“Because.” Was the only word you could get out, and you received a hard tug on your nipple. “Ow!”

“Because isn’t good enough. Try again.”

“Because...Yuji is nice to me! You’re such a bully!” Kicking your feet out for emphasis, it felt good to finally say it. You and Sukuna had exchanged harsh words before, but you never said it to his face.

“A bully, huh?” Falling silent, Sukuna nodded and withdrew his hand from your shirt. Grabbing the back of your collar, he pushed and pulled you off his lap, manhandling you onto your back on the couch with him between your legs.

“Hey, what the fuck!” Slapping his chest got your hands pinned to the couch cushions. Sukuna looked at you with wide eyes and an unsettling gaze. His lips slightly parted, his tongue darted out to wet them and you saw the flashes of a tongue piercing.

“If I’m so horrible, I might as well just take what I want then.” The words barely registered in your head before Sukuna descended onto you. His lips crashed onto yours and his teeth dug into you. Forcing his tongue into your mouth, his piercing smoothed over the roof of your mouth and bumped into your teeth.

His lips were demanding, not letting you go for anything. Every time you tried to break away to breathe, Sukuna would smother you all over again. Sucking your tongue into his mouth, he smirked at the muffled screams you were making.

Breaking the kiss, he pressed his lips against your neck next. Sucking the flesh into his mouth, Sukuna was sure to leave marks you would feel for days to come, and see with the teeth marks he indented into you.

“Not so tough now, are you?” Pulling back, Sukuna chuckled at your pathetic face. Tears had gathered on your lashes and your bruised lips were quivering uncontrollably, and it only made Sukuna want you more.

Putting his lips back on yours, he let one of your wrists go to find your breast again. Giving it the same treatment as earlier, his hips rutted into yours at the feeling. He groaned into your mouth, and his breathing was obnoxiously loud as he forced the air through his nose.

Dropping his hand to your waistband, Sukuna slapped your hand when you tried to stop him, but still he let go. Pulling away from your lips, he sat up on his heels and looked down at you with a smirk. Finally free from him, you furiously wiped away the tears that had fallen on your cheeks.

“I’m gonna tell dad!” You felt so childish, so helpless, saying that. But it was the only leverage you had against him.

“Oh yeah? I’ll call him right now.” Grabbing your phone from the coffee table, Sukuna waved it over your face. “I’ll call and tell him and your mom how I fucked your stupid little ass into the couch and how you were just begging for my cock.” You stared at each other for a moment and Sukuna knew he had won even from just a few seconds of silence. Tossing your phone back on the table, he grabbed your waistband.

“Don’t!” As Sukuna tried to pull your pants down, you held onto the fabric, desperate to keep it in place. Grunting, Sukuna lifted his hand and curled it into a fist.

“Do you want me to hit you so you fucking stop, or will you be a good little sister?” He didn’t need to glare at you, or threaten you any further. Staring at his fist and the taut muscles in his arms, you knew he wouldn’t hesitate to hit you, so you let go.

“I’ll be good.” You whispered, and Sukuna yanked your pants down to your midthigh. You craned your head up and away from the man above you, and your fingers itched to cover yourself as he stared at your cunt.

“All that fight, and yet you’re wet.”

“No I’m not!” His statement made you snap your head back to him, and he quirked a brow at you.

“Don’t lie to me when the truth is right here.” With two fingers he swiped up your cunt. His fingers dipped easily into your wet folds and he presented the fingers to you. “See? You fucking wanted this all along.”

“No I-” Your protest was cut off with a hard slap to the top of your thigh. Sukuna scoffed at the surprised shout you let out and put his fingers back at your cunt, swirling around your entrance.

“Just be grateful I’m doing this much. I could just fuck you without prepping you and make you fucking bleed.” Rolling his eyes, Sukuna pressed his fingers into you. You were too tight to let him in, and when he tried to force them past the tight muscles of your cunt, you started to cry.

“Stop, Sukuna! It hurts!” Pushing and slapping his chest, your thighs quaked with the desire to close them.

“God you’re such a fucking princess.” Abandoning his attempt, Sukuna settled his fingers on your clit. Watching your face intently, he pressed down and rubbed firm circles on it. Biting your lip, you fought to keep your face neutral but he could see right past you.

Moving his fingers just a little faster, Sukuna didn’t need you to make a sound to know that you were enjoying this. Tears might have been drying on your cheeks, but every so often your thighs would twitch and you’d look at him with those scared little eyes.

Putting more force behind his fingers, Sukuna broke out into a large grin when you made a tiny sound. It was barely above a whimper, not even a complete sound, but Sukuna took it for all it was worth and then some.

“C’mon little sister, don’t hold back! If it feels good, it’s okay to moan.”

“No.” Shaking your head, you clamped your lips shut and put your hands over them, effectively stopping any sound. Narrowing his eyes, Sukuna stopped his ministrations on your clit. His finger prodded at your entrance and found that he could now slip two fingers in without the same restrictions as before.

“Try to keep quiet all you want.” He grunted, curving his fingers up and fucking them into you. He set a quick pace, the arms in his muscles flexing intensely from the effort. Pressing his thumb against your clit, Sukuna let out a soft chuckle at hearing your muffled cries.

Despite your efforts, the sounds you made could still be heard even behind your hands. Hushed cries of ‘no’ and ‘stop’ mixed in with moans that you didn’t want to be making, but the pleasure Sukuna was forcing onto you was overriding your senses. It only took a few more snaps of his wrist to get you cumming and he let out a low groan at feeling your gummy walls pulse around his fingers.

Pulling his fingers out, Sukuna turned them over in the light so you both could see the mess of your release glistening on the digits. Locking eyes with you, his tongue lolled out of his mouth and he made a show of swiping his fingers across it and sucking on them.

“I can’t wait to feel you on my cock.” Hurriedly he undid his pants. Sukunas cock slapped against his stomach and you pushed on his chest again. The length and girth of his cock scared you, it was much bigger than the few fingers you stuffed inside yourself late at night.

“No, it won’t fit!”

“I’ll make it fit.” Wrapping a hand around his cock, he pumped it once before leaning in.

“Sukuna, stop!” You tried in vain to cover yourself, to stop him from trying to put the tip of his cock into you, but it only earned you a pinch on the arm.

“Maybe if you call me big brother, I won’t stick it in.”

“I-” The words caught in your throat, and your eyes roamed the room in thought. Unable to make full eye contact with him, you settled your eyes on his chest. “Big brother, stop it.”

“Nice try.” Yanking your hands away, Sukuna lined his cock up and pushed it in all the way. A shriek sounded from your chest and your hands scrambled to find something to hold onto, something to ground you in this moment. Catching onto his back, you raked your nails down his skin.

“But you said-”

“I didn’t guarantee shit.” He nearly shouted in your ear, his forehead pressed against the cushion. Sniffles and tears couldn’t be stopped now and you turned into a blubbering mess underneath him. Pulling back slightly, Sukuna gave you a blank stare.

“Why are you crying like such a baby?” Rolling his eyes, he grabbed your chin and made you look at him. “Tell me. Tell your big brother.”

“Y-you said yo-you wouldn’t! And it h-hurts!” Letting go of you, your head turned to the side. There was a large wet patch forming from your tears, and the sharp stinging between your legs refused to dissipate.

“You just have to get used to it, that’s all. Big brother's cock will make you feel good, promise.” Sinking his hands into the couch, Sukuna pulled his cock out gradually and pushed it back in. Your nails continued to almost draw blood on him and every thrust back in wasn’t making anything better.

“Su-”

“Aht, call me big brother or I’ll pound your ass.” His sharp glare stopped you in your tracks, and one of your hands dropped to wipe at your puffy eyes.

“Bi-big brother, please, it hurts too much.” Giving you a mocking pitying look, Sukuna put a hand between your bodies and found your clit again.

“Fucking princess.” He snarled, roughly rubbing your clit. It sent sparks of pleasure through your body and your tears stopped falling after a bit. Taking a few deep, shuddering breaths, you were able to relax around him.

Feeling your nails release him, Sukuna began to slowly hump you. He didn’t take his cock out nearly as much, opting for small little thrusts that didn’t feel like anything at all really, but he didn’t want you to keep crying and making so much noise. His thrusts remained short, and it wasn’t until you let out a sigh that he was able to really get into it.

Putting both hands on the couch, Sukuna drew his cock out further and slapped his hips into yours. The yelp you made sent a shiver down Sukunas spine.

The impatience he’d been holding back was finally coming forward, and Sukuna set a brutal pace from the beginning. Forcing you to split open on his cock, Sukuna couldn’t care less about if it hurt now or if he was going too fast for you. The only thing in his head was fucking you into the couch so deep that every time you passed by or sat down, you’d think of this moment.

“-other, brother!” You cried, and your nails were back to digging into his skin.

“What?”

“Too fast, please-”

“Stop fucking whining.” He snapped, and he lightly slapped your cheeks. “Just take my fucking cock and shut up.” Grabbing onto your face he squished your cheeks together and forced your lips apart. Gathering the saliva in his mouth, Sukuna held his tongue out and watched it drip down and into your mouth. Forcing his tongue into your mouth shortly after, he mixed your spit together and pulled his lips away, watching strings of saliva still connecting you together.

Rocking your hips together, shame trickled into the back of your head at what you were doing. There was no way you wanted this to happen, Sukuna had forced himself onto you, but you couldn’t deny that you were enjoying it now.

“Big brother! Thi- ah, fuck - this is wrong!”

“Oh, you’re gonna tell me what’s right and wrong?” Slowing his hips down to a stop, Sukuna sneered at you. “You, who’s fucking impaled on my cock and creaming all over me.”

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” You pressed, ignoring his words even though they burned you with humiliation.

“I gave you an out earlier, didn’t I? With your stupid little phone.” Starting up again, somehow he moved faster than before. “Didn’t I? But you didn’t take it!”

“I-”

“You wanted this to happen, so cut the bullshit out! You wanted me to split you open on my cock, and now that I am you can’t fucking handle it.” Broken yelps and moans flowed past your lips at his rough treatment, full sentences unable to form from the onslaught.

Your back was beginning to burn from constantly rubbing against the cushions and so was your ass. The imprint of the fabric would be stuck on you for days, your skin being nearly rubbed raw.

“Cum, I’m gonna-” You gasped, feeling the beginnings of your orgasm start to build. Sukuna made a noise in the back of his throat, and dropped to his elbows above you.

“Gonna cum from big brothers cock?” His voice wavered, the only indication he could be close too.

“Yes!” Nodding frantically, you gasped when he grabbed your ass and angled your hips further up. “Big brother!” Squealing at the new angle, your feet dug into his lower back. Sukunas back bowed with the effort he was putting forth and even though his body begged for a break, he refused.

“Say you love your big brother's cock!” He demanded, and you were more than happy to oblige.

“I-I love my big brother's cock!” Nearly sobbing, you fell over the edge. Your head pushed back hard against the couch cushions as you came, a long drawn out moan coming from your mouth.

“Fuck, fuck-” Gritting his teeth, Sukunas thrusts stuttered, and he ground his hips into you as he came. His lips found yours, a frenzied kiss to go with the euphoric feeling of shooting his cum deep inside you, the tip of his cock kissing your womb. He coated your walls with his cum and you milked him for everything he was worth.

The house was deafeningly silent compared to the loud sounds you’d just been making. Breaking the kiss, Sukuna pushed his face into the cushions, and the only noise between you two was heavy breathing. Taking your nails out of his back and letting your legs fall down, your whole body ached from the ordeal.

“What a good little sister I have.” Sukuna mumbled against your ear, and he gave your cheek a kiss before sitting up again. “Oh, excuse me. Step sister.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #ryomen sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #tw: pseudo-incest #tw: dubcon #tw: noncon

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nowandajenn · 3 years

Text

Blue Christmas- Eight

Pairing: Chris Evans/OC Kelly

Summary: After almost three years of marriage, everyone would tell you that Chris and his wife Kelly are the most stable, solid couple they know. But behind closed doors, things are tense as they keep trying for a baby, to no avail. When a secret threatens to shake their solid marriage to it’s core, will they be able to pick up the pieces?

I do not consent to have my content, whether it be this story or anything else of my creation, posted by a third party on any other platform other than right here without my permission. This blog is 18+ and is not intended for minors. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Heed the warnings.

Warnings: mentions of cheating, smut, language, angst, mentions of miscarriage. If any of this is triggering to you, do not read.

A/N: This is going to be very dialogue heavy, and will have flashbacks of the night that Chris cheated and everything that happened. Flashbacks will be in italics. Just a warning, this chapter is a BEAST. There’s a lot to unpack, and it’s going to be super emotional.

December 29

Chris watches from his seat in the comfortable leather recliner in our living room as I twist my wedding and engagement rings around on my finger. It’s a nervous little habit that I do without even really realizing it or thinking about it. A million thoughts cross his mind as he sits silently, waiting for me to say something.

After taking a few deep breaths to try and steel myself for the conversation that I KNOW that Chris and I need to have, I finally look up from the floor and at him.

“Do you want a divorce?” Okay, the thousand different times I pictured this conversation happening in my head, that was definitely NOT one of the ways. Apparently my mouth and brain aren’t communicating very well today.

Chris looks up at me, his expression aghast.

“Wha-.......” he tries to speak, but is too stunned to even form the words.

“Is that why you cheated? You don’t want to be with me anymore, so you went somewhere else for whatever is it that you weren’t getting from me?”

“No! Jesus Christ, no! I love you. I love you so much that it hurts. I can’t imagine my life without you. No, I don’t want a divorce.” he tells me.

“Okay, if that’s not it, then you have to help me out here. Because I don’t understand what possible reason you could have for cheating. It had to be something that I did. Or something I didn’t do. I need you to tell me what happened. Because until I have all the facts and I understand what the hell happened, we can’t move forward.”

He sits forward in the chair and sighs.

“What do you want me to tell you?”

“I want you to tell me what happened that night after we FaceTimed. I want to know what happened between then and the next morning.” I tell him.

“You KNOW what happened.” he says miserably.

I shake my head. “No, I know the end result. I want you to walk me through every single thing that happened that night. Everything you were thinking, everything you did.”

“Why? What good is that going to do? What’s the goddamn point? How is me telling you everything that happened going to help ANYTHING? All it’s going to do is hurt you more, and I can’t do that. I won’t.”

“The point is, if we have even the smallest hope of getting through this intact, with our MARRIAGE intact, I need to understand this. I need to know. I need to know, because when I go to sleep at night, all I can see in my head is all the things that I imagine happened that night. And I need to know if what actually happened is better or worse than what I can imagine happened. I have a right, as your wife, to know what you did.”

Chris looks up, silently pleading with you to not make him do this, but he knows that you’re right. You do deserve to know, even if it’s going to devastate you.

“After we got off the phone, I had to go right back into interviews and there was two more photo calls we had to do, so by the time we got done it was about 7:30 that night. I was distracted the whole time. I hated that we fought, and I felt like an asshole, and I just wanted to call you back and apologize, but I didn’t have time. Plus, I figured that we both probably needed a little bit of time to cool down. I told myself that I was going to call you that night before I went to bed so we could talk more and I could apologize to you. We all got out of there, and Cate and Robert and the rest of them wanted to go to dinner, so we came back to the hotel, changed, and then went out to eat.” Chris tells me.

“What time did you get back from dinner?”

“Around 10, I think. It couldn’t have been much later than that. Everyone else was talking about going out and finding a bar or a club to go to, but I just wanted to come back to the hotel and relax. I wasn’t in the mood to be around a lot of people.”

I pull my feet up on the couch and tuck them under me.

“Okay, so you got back to the hotel, and then what did you do?”

For as tired as he was, Chris couldn’t relax. He tried taking a hot shower, laying in bed watching TV, browsing social media, and flipping through pictures on his phone. Finally, after about 45 minutes and getting more and more keyed up and anxious, he decides to go down to the hotel bar.

When he walks in, the place is empty except for an older couple seated down at the end and the bartender. Chris slides himself onto one of the stools and the bartender makes her way over to him.

“Thank God. A friendly face.” she says with a smile.

Chris glances down the bar at the couple. “They seem pretty friendly.” he remarks.

“Yeah, but they’ve been here for an hour and they’re literally babying their drinks, and aren’t much for conversation that doesn’t involve each other. I’m bored out of my mind.”

She stick her hand out. “I’m Jo.”

Chris reaches across the bar and shakes her hand with his own. “Chris. Nice to meet you.”

“So, Chris, what’s your poison?”

“What was her name?” I ask him. He just referred to her as “the bartender” and “she”.

He runs his hand down his face and over his beard.

“I don’t......I honestly can’t remember. It was one of those boys names for a girl. You know.....Alex or Max or James.......I don’t......I can’t remember.”

I cover my face with my hands and take a deep breath. I want to scream already, and he’s not even deep into the story. I shake my head slightly.

“You slept with this girl, and you don’t even remember her NAME.” I say softly.

Chris hangs his head.

“Keep going.”

She pours him another measure of whiskey, along with a shot for herself. They clink glasses and swallow the amber liquid, letting it burn it’s way down.

“So what did you and your wife fight about?” she asks him.

Chris sighs.

“It’s......it’s complicated.”

“Hey, I’m a bartender, which means that I’m a really great listener. It’s practically a job requirement. You might feel better if you talk about it.”

“We’re trying to have a baby.”

“Soo....what’s the problem. Trying is the fun part!”

“We’ve been trying for a year and a half almost, and nothing’s happening. She’s perfect; there’s absolutely nothing wrong with her that would keep her from getting pregnant, but it’s just not happening. And we both want a baby so bad, and the look on her face when......it fucking kills me.”

He knows that he shouldn’t be telling a complete stranger all of this, especially considering who he is, but the alcohol has loosened his tongue, and if he doesn’t spill his guts to someone, he’s going to explode.

Jo puts a soft, warm hand over his.

“I’m sorry, That has to be tough. For both of you.” she says softly.

“I mean, I guess I never thought that it would take actual work, you know? I assumed that ‘hey, if we just keep having sex, eventually she’s going to get pregnant’ and it would be easy. She’s getting scared and fed up and talking about adoption and fertility doctors, and I hate seeing her so stressed out and upset, and I kind of just.....I said some things and made it worse and I feel like a complete fucking jackass.”

“What if you guys can’t have kids?”

“As much as I want to have kids with her, I don’t need them to be happy. As long as I have Kelly in my life, I’ll be perfectly happy. Do I want to be a dad? Yeah, absolutely. But there are so many kids out there that need good homes, so there are other options, but I don’t think that we’re there yet, you know?”

I get up and storm out of the room with Chris right on my heels.

“Kelly, wait, please.....”

He touches my arm and I spin around to face him, and the look in my eyes makes him fall back a step.

I’m so pissed off and hurt right now I could spit nails.

“You......you told her.....EVERYTHING. You told her.....EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING, Chris! Do you even......do you even fucking understand what you did? Like.....”

I squat down close to the floor and put my head between my knees. My heart is pounding and I’m so worked up that I’m afraid I’m going to pass out if I don’t calm down. And I’m not going anywhere or doing anything until I get the whole damn story.

“Look, I know-”

I look up at him incredulously.

“No! No, you don’t know! You don’t know shit! You fucking betrayed me, in every single sense of the word. You didn’t just fuck her, you told her, a complete stranger, about me. About us trying to have a baby. You told her about things that you never even fucking bothered to tell me! Do you realize that she could go to the press? She could go and spill all of these juicy little secrets that you spilled to her over shots of Jack and have herself a nice little pay day.”

“Kelly, you wanted to know what happened that night, so I’m telling you what happened, despite everything inside of me screaming at me not to. I’m not going to lie to you or keep things from you. You wanted to know everything.” Chris says.

I squeeze my eyes shut and grit my teeth so hard that my jaw hurts.

“I can’t look at you right now. I need a break.” I tell him, grabbing my jacket. I grab Dodger’s leash off the peg in the hallway and call for him.

Dodger trots over, tongue lolling out of his mouth, happy to be going on a walk.

“I’ll be back in a while.”

Forty five minutes later, I’m in the utility room stripping off my wet clothes after getting Dodger dry and wiping off his paws.

Chris stops pacing the kitchen when he sees me walking through the house in my bra and underwear.

“What happened to your clothes?” he asks.

“Dodger saw a squirrel and got excited and kind of dragged me through a snow bank.” I sigh. I throw my clothes in the dryer and make my way into our room to get changed.

“Dodge, come on.....” Chris admonishes. Dodger just jumps up on the bed and curls up.

I throw on a pair of gray sweatpants and a blue Patriots hoodie that’s hung over the back of the chair in our room and sit down on the side of the bed.

“I want to know the rest.” I tell Chris.

He sits down heavily on the end of the bed.

“No, you don’t.”

I swallow thickly. “You’re right. I don’t. But it doesn’t matter, because you’re going to tell me anyway.”

Hours pass with Jo and Chris laughing and talking and flirting back and forth, until it’s 1am and the bar closes for the night.

“Thanks for sticking around and hanging out tonight. I think I would have died of sheer boredom if you hadn’t.” Jo laughs softly. She offered to walk him back to his room as he was pretty well drunk and a little unsteady on his feet.

“It was no problem. I didn’t really want to be alone tonight to be honest. I used to do really well on my own. I was used to it, and then......I wasn’t alone.” Chris tells her.

Once they reach his room, they linger outside for a few minutes, both of them not really wanting the night to end. Jo steps closer to him, knowing exactly what she wants and completely unashamed about it.

“You should kiss me.” she says softly, looking up at him with big doe eyes. She places her hands on his chest and instead of immediately backing away like he should have, he leans into her touch.

Chris closes his eyes as he feels his mouth go dry and a strange fluttery feeling in his stomach. He hasn’t really felt this way since....

He opens his eyes and breathes out deeply. “I can’t. I’m married. I’m married and I’m insanely in love with my wife.”

“So? You should kiss me anyway. I can tell you want to. You’ve been flirting with me all night.” she says, taking a step closer. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise. You need a way to release all this tension you’ve got, and I’m more than willing to help you out anyway I can.”

Before his brain can scream at him to stop, he’s wrapping his arms around her and covering her mouth with his, kissing her soundly. It’s a battle of teeth and tongues, both of them trying to take control from the other. Without breaking apart, Chris manages to get his key card out of his pocket and gets the door open, pushing both of them through it and slamming it behind them.

“This never goes beyond this room. We never talk about this ever again.” Chris gasps, pulling away from her just long enough to get the words out.

“Absolutely.” she agrees.

Clothes are torn off and tossed to the floor in a frenzy, and as soon as Chris drops his pants and boxers, Jo sinks to her knees and takes him in her mouth, swallowing him almost all the way down.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Christ, yes, just like that.” he moans out.

He brings his right hand to her hair, holding it in a makeshift ponytail while his left hand goes to her shoulder.

She almost makes him lose his mind with the things she can do with her tongue, and within minutes, he’s fucking her face roughly as spit runs down her chin and tears are springing to her eyes from the assault on her throat, but she loves it. She has the man she’s fantasized about for years shoving his cock down her throat, and she’s never been more turned on in her life. She smirks to herself as she wonders if his wife ever sucks him off like THIS.

When he can’t stand it anymore, Chris pulls her off his dick and takes a few deep breaths.

“I need a condom.”

“Right. I have one in my purse.” she tells him as she reaches for her bag and finds it and hands it to him.

“Get on the bed. On your hands and knees.” he says roughly. While her mouth was wrapped around him, he was mesmerized and couldn’t look away, but now he finds that he doesn’t even want to look at her face. He rolls the condom over his cock, giving it a few strokes before sinking into her from behind.

Tears stream down my face as I process all of what Chris just told me, and I can’t even BREATHE with how devastated I feel. It’s like a hole just got punched through my chest. I try and take a breath in, but it turns into a strangled sob and I drop my head into my hands and just let it out.

Chris swallows thickly, wiping away his own tears as he watches me fall apart across from him, wishing that he could do something.....ANYTHING to take all the pain away. To go back and undo everything that he did so you wouldn’t hurt. All he feels is deep, unrelenting shame and he knows in his gut that if you asked for a divorce after hearing all of his sins laid bare, he wouldn’t be surprised or even have the right to be devastated. He made his bed.

I feel bile rising in my throat, and I stumble to my feet and race to the downstairs bathroom, falling to my knees and vomiting painfully as the image of my husband kissing this woman and fucking her run through my head. I barely notice Chris come into the bathroom until I feel him pulling my hair back and securing it with a hair tie, and rubbing my back softly. I can’t even find the breath or the energy to tell him to get away from me and drop dead.

I’m so damn tired. Like, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this level of physical and mental exhaustion before. I sink back into the pillows a little more, and look over at Chris. Neither one of us have said a word since he picked me up off the bathroom floor and stood there with his arm around my waist as I brushed my teeth. That was 45 minutes ago.

“It was just sex?” I ask.

He exhales. “It was just sex. It was just once.”

I look back up at the ceiling and try and make sense of everything.

“I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of it. I don’t understand why you would sleep with another woman.”

“I-I don’t know. I was lonely because we were fighting, and I missed you so goddamn much, and I was afraid of what was happening to us with all of the stress and I just......I got drunk, and I did a horrible thing. I did a horrible thing, and I wish that I could take it back. I wish I could take it back so bad it hurts. But I can’t. And I have to live with that for the rest of my life.” Chris says.

I lift my eyes to meet his. “You were lonely? That’s your excuse? You were lonely, and you were upset. So you stuck your dick in another woman.”

I stand at the kitchen sink and drain a glass of water in record time, and refill it. Turns out crying all day and then puking can kind of dehydrate you. I can sense Chris behind me, even though he doesn’t say anything.

“Two years ago, a couple of weeks after you left for Africa to start shooting the movie, I found out I was pregnant. We hadn’t even officially started trying yet, so it came as a pretty big surprise. But I was so happy, and I couldn’t wait to tell you. I didn’t want to tell you over the phone, especially when you were so far away, so I was going to surprise you when you came home. I had it all planned out. I practiced telling you standing in front of the bathroom mirror, just so I could see the stupid happy look on my face.”

I feel tears prick my eyes, and I swallow down the sob that I feel threatening to come out. I turn towards Chris, and the look on his face is heartbreaking.

“What?” he breathes out.

“I was at a job.....I was shooting a birthday party for a little girl who was turning one. All I could think about was that that was going to be us eventually, and it made me so happy. Everything was fine, but then I started having horrible pain in my stomach. It got so bad that I collapsed, and the parents called 911 when they realized that I was bleeding. They did an ultrasound at the hospital, but they couldn’t find the baby’s heartbeat. I had already miscarried. You don’t know anything about feeling lonely until you’re by yourself laying on a table with your feet in stirrups while a doctor cleans out your uterus.”

Chris is sunk down in one of the kitchen chairs with his hand over his mouth and tears running down his face. This is the first time he’s hearing any of this.

“Why didn’t-” his voice cracks, and he takes a minute and clears his throat before he tries again. “Why the hell didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you tell me? I would have come home!”

“Chris, you were 8,000 miles away from home. There wasn’t anything you could do. It was too late. They had to do the procedure as soon as possible. I didn’t.....I hadn’t told anyone else that I was pregnant. And I didn’t want to call your mom or sisters because I didn’t want them to find out. I knew if they found out they would call you, and you would be devastated. And I couldn’t do that to you when you were so far away. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you. I was trying to protect you.”

The sound of his fist slamming against the heavy oak table makes me jump.

“And what about over the last two years? Huh? Don’t you think that I had a right to know? Don’t you think I had the right as your husband, to be there with you? To comfort you? To mourn with you? To even have a fucking clue about what happened?”

I take a deep breath.

“You did. You should have been there. You should have been there with me to hold my hand and cry with me and tell me that it was going to be okay, even though it was a lie. But you weren’t. You were doing your job. I don’t know if you realize it, but when you leave for work or press or whatever it is that you have to leave me for, you’re not the only one who’s lonely. You’re not the only one who has to deal with the silence. But you don’t see me going out and fucking someone else.”

Tears start to swim in my eyes again, and I suddenly feel like if I don’t get out of the house right now, I’m going to suffocate. I’ve been in here with Chris literally all day while we picked apart his affair, and I’m exhausted. I’m hurt and emotional and talking about the baby that we lost just made everything worse.

“I’m gonna go. I just.....I can’t handle anything else today. I know you’re probably really pissed off at me right now, and honestly, the feeling is mutual. Things are already about as bad as they can be, so I’m gonna leave before we have a chance to make it worse.”

The last thing I see before I walk out the door is Chris sitting at the table with his head in his hands, sobbing while Dodger sits on the floor next to him, whining in distress.

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#blue christmas #chris evans #chris evans x wife #chris evans x kelly evans #rpf #cheating #angst #miscarriage #infertility #back to that night

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taeescript · 3 years

Text

29 + 1 (Part Two)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰: In which Seokjin is the Devil from The Devil Wears Prada, Taehyung is your work Jesus and Jimin is your handsome successful brother.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: seokjin x reader (squint harder than before for taehyung x reader)

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: slice of life; ceo!seokjin; a dash of enemies to lovers au

𝔴𝔠: 7.6k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: language; a plethora of drunk people, maybe a sext, and a ton of lying (possible implication of impending smut?!)

𝔞/𝔫: this part came out longer than i thought it would be but *shrugs* feedback and thoughts always welcomed. enjoy (: 𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯: DailyHive is real; this is not associated with it

part one || part three

The bright pop music that is blaring from the speakers does little to slow your animated talking. Bodies are packed into the small local bar, and students on summer break fill booths and form a snake of impatient, drunk (and horny) people. A slow trickle of the brazen has started to fill the dance floor as the evening morphs into the night.

You whip your hair into a ponytail and dab at the sweat that is beading your forehead. You definitely should have worn that sleeveless top rather than this thicker t-shirt dress.

“So, is he like your sugar daddy or something?” Taehyung asks, “Also drink.”

Friday nights were usually spent at home, snuggled under the blankets in your pjs binging another rewatch of Friends. After work today, you could no longer hold onto your secret and invited Taehyung out for drinks. His girlfriend, Fei, was supposed to join but had been held back for overtime.

You tip the shot back with no chase.

“You’re a monster,” he comments as he bites into his lemon piece.

The two of you had made a bet at the beginning of the evening: you each chose a pop song and each time it played, the nominee had to take a shot. That was your fourth of the night, and to say there was a bit of a buzz is an understatement.

“It’s all throat technique, Tae,” you say with a bit of a slur, “Hit the back and swallow. No innuendo intended. Also, why the hell haven’t you had any to drink?”

“You picked ‘Peaches’ for fuck’s sake.”

“I told you I don’t listen to pop music. It was the first one playing.”

“And shouldn’t that have told you something? Justin Bieber of all people?”

“Shut up. It’s your song.” You nod at the pink-faced barista for another round. She slaps your order in front of the two of you without so much a glance.

You don’t even know what song is playing, but you feel quite satisfied watching Taehyung make a face as he downs it in one go.

He clears his throat after the liquor has burned its way down to his stomach. “Back to my question: is he your sugar daddy?”

You bark out a laugh. Was he? Perhaps the fact that he paid for fancy meals at lunch? Those have been his one o’clock meetings for the past two months.

“I don’t know. I’d rather he buy me a car or pay my rent if anything. A casual 1k a week wouldn’t be so bad either. We just sit in his office and eat in secret, Tae. He’s ‘training me in the art of culinary cuisine’. I think it’s just so I don’t embarrass him by stuffing a shrimp cocktail up my nose.”

“You do know – ”

“Yes, I know. And I would never. It’s a metaphor. It’s just that the position ‘intern’ is quite loosely defined at DailyHive, don’t you think?”

Taehyung rinses his mouth with water before speaking. “So let me get this right. Mr. Kim calls you into his office, says he’s going to take you as his guest to the biggest tech event of the year, treats you to lunches and doesn’t ask for anything in return? No secret midnight meetups or shady business deals…”

You shake your head.

“Damn,” Taehyung says, resting his arm on the bar table, “Forget sugar daddy. He’s just daddy.”

Sticking your tongue out, you gag visibly at his comment. “Do not ever call him that again, Tae; ev-er.”

He laughs and watches you pensively. After a moment’s thought, he says, “Nobody has ever called me Tae.”

“What do they call you then?” you reply, wrinkling your brows together. A cute brunette across the room catches your eyes and for the briefest of seconds, you wonder what a one-night-stand would feel like.

He shrugs. “Just Taehyung.”

The brunette waves in your direction. You are about to return his wave when an equally cute brunette runs up to him. He promptly kisses her before swivelling her around to join his group of friends.

“Sorry. Do you want me to stop? I just assumed since we were out of the office…”

Oh Fate, how cruel you are. Life of twenty cats and solidarity, here you come. Maybe dogs. You feel like you could be more of a dog person.

“No,” he stops you, “You can call me Tae. Whatever you want.”

You turn your attention back on the also cute brunette in front of you. In all honestly, despite his youthful god-like countenance, he looks slightly out of place at this college bar with you in his upstanding business attire and dorkishly adorable thick-framed glasses.

“Sure. How about Tee-Tee? Or Hyungie? The TaeMan?” You wiggle your brows with the suggestion.

“God help me.”

The two of you clink your shot glasses together even though neither of your songs are being played.

His Apple watch lights up to indicate an incoming message. He relays the text to you, “Fei’s done work. She’s on her way now.” You can’t help but notice a shift in his previously excited demeanor.

You nudge him with your elbow. “Aren’t you excited? She’ll need a glass of wine or two to destress after work. I might be projecting onto you for this part, but you’re buzzed. So after we get her to unwind I’m sure the overwhelming power of pheromones will get you lucky tonight.” You wink at him to emphasize your point.

“She’s not a big drinker. She’s probably just going to come and ask to leave in five minutes. Bars like this aren’t really her thing either,” he states. He then unbuckles his watch and tucks it away into the pocket of his pants. Undoing the cuffs of his shirt, he rolls up the sleeves and continues to regard you solemnly. “Okay, next round is one me. Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to switch songs?”

You notice how nice, long, and slender his fingers are. Plus the thing of girls liking when men have visible veins on their forearm? That had never really caught your attention until now.

“She’s a bit of a bitch,” you say and immediately regret, “Shit, sorry. That just slipped out. Alcohol.”

He offers you his water to drink.

“I mean, she’s a little…uptight at times? But people can be completely different in and out of work. I can only imagine how stressful it is in her position. Working overtime until 9pm on a Saturday night seriously sucks,” you say to try and mend your wrongdoing.

“Fei in the office is basically Fei at home,” he says softly, “It’s always work with her.”

“We support career-driven women, yeah?” A smile is offered from you to him.

He finally lets out a small one and nods. Out of the blue, he reaches over and covers your hand with his. Staring intently into your eyes, he says, “I know she makes you do her reports and occupies your time to do her coffee runs as well. You can say no to her. She may be my girlfriend, but you’re technically my intern, and I will stand on your side no matter what.”

“Um, okay. Thanks, Tae,” you say. His sincerity has caught you off guard.

At that moment, the sound of clicking heels pierce its way into your eardrums through the noise of the even busier bar. Taehyung quickly retracts his hand.

Fei arrives, not a hair out of place in her tightly pulled bun. Her lips are painted a striking red against the paleness of her skin, and her manicured nails dig into the forearm of Taehyung when she reaches them. Even though she is wearing an otherwise drab office business suit, the curvature of her body draws quite a few glances from the younger men in the crowd.

“It’s like a zoo here,” she sneers, turning away from a sacrificial lamb who had been bold enough step out of his circle of friends to greet her with a sleezy “hey”.

“Hi, Fei. Busy night?” you greet her first.

She gives you a tight-lipped smile. “Yes. I don’t know why you weren’t there. Isn’t it the intern’s job to complete reports?”

Again, a loosely defined use of “intern” at DailyHive.

You return her smile with a crisp one of your own.

She turns away from you and regards Taehyung, who looks as if he had been the sacrificial lamb instead. “Teddybear, let’s go home. You know this type of place isn’t my vibe. I’m getting a headache already.”

You raise an eyebrow at his pet name.

He turns a little bit pinker, if that is possible under the current alcohol-induced glow of his cheeks, and says, “Um, sure. Y/N, are you going to be okay getting home?”

Waving him off, you show him your phone. “30% left. I’ve got pepper spray in my bag and enough booze in me to not run from a fight. I’ll call an Uber home soon, don’t worry.”

Fei has already begun to fight her way through the squirming, dancing bodies. Taehyung glances quickly at her and turns back to you once last time. “Text me that you’re home safe.”

“Will do, boss,” you smile at him warmly.

He lingers for just a moment more before running after his impatiently waiting girlfriend.

You turn back to the bar and order another beer for yourself. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is perhaps the biggest perk of being single.

...

On the opposite side of town, sinking deeply into a soft lounge chair is Seokjin enjoying a rare evening out with his best friend. He has swapped his usual attire for a more relaxed fit of a white oversized crewneck and techwear bottoms. A heavy, exorbitant fur-lined long leather coat hangs on the coat rack beside the door to their private VVIP room. He swirls his glass of Chateau Lafite before sipping delicately.

Outside, only a handful of patrons sit quietly engrossed in their own conversations. It is a relatively empty night at the high-end lounge. A lady sings sultrily on stage with the smooth background of a saxophone as accompaniment.

Junho has poured himself another glass while he is talking to Seokjin. Seokjin had since slightly tuned out his friend’s rather elongated rendition of another celebrity sighting to occupy his mind with another individual.

“Earth to Jin? When did you get so lightweight since I’ve been gone?” Junho waves a hand in front of Seokjin’s nose.

Seokjin blinks to refocus.

“The mansion I bought last year or the one I bought last month?” he reiterates. Sensing that Seokjin truly had no idea what the topic at hand had been, he tries again.

“Where should I do my birthday party this year, man? I thought the mansion from last year since it’s closer to the city, but I feel like it’s been reused too many times. It’s not completely furnished yet, but the property I got last month is significantly bigger and I can probably host more people.”

“The new place then,” Seokjin answers half-heartedly.

Junho grumbles something intelligible.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing,” Junho sighs, “Tell me what’s new with you. How’s that little project of yours going? I still can’t believe you won’t let me know who you’re planning to take to the Gala.”

Seokjin had refused to release even the slightest detail about you to Junho. Letting him know that Seokjin had agreed to one of his plans would be enough to inflate Junho’s ego for at least a little while.

“It’s been going...”

Junho waits for more of Seokjin’s answer, but his friend’s attention has been turned to a received text.

10:17pm “Safe and sound, Teddy Bear.”

10:17pm “Or should I say Taeddybear? 🥴”

10:18pm “That last beer done me rael godo.”

10:18pm “Real good**”

Seokjin raises a brow at the unknown number. He responds back.

10:18pm “Who is this? I think you’ve got the wrong number.”

Junho crosses his legs and sits back with a sigh. He presses the button to request for an attendant.

10:19pm “You know who… Anyways, I just wanted to say thank you for saying you’ve got my back. It’s definitely appreciated.”

The response doesn’t do much except to further pique Seokjin’s curiosity.

“Sorry,” he says, sliding his phone back into his pocket, “Rogue text I think.”

Junho shrugs. “Is that right? Seems to have caught your attention.” There is now a manner of indifference to his voice.

“It’s going well, by the way – answering your question. I mean, all things considered. It’s not like I have to teach her how not to stuff a cocktail shrimp up your nose.”

His friend snorts. “I’d be concerned and against this person if it’s who you’re planning to bring.”

Seokjin’s phone buzzes again.

10:21pm “Pray for me when I wake up with the worst hangover of my life. I’m going to bed now.”

A moment of silence.

10:21pm “I hope I didn’t piss off Fei tonight for stealing you for the evening.”

10:22pm “Okay I’ll shut up now. Please don’t tell me you’re reading this. You should be getting some 😼💦.”

The emoji makes Seokjin choke, liquid sputtering from his lips.

Junho cusses. He angrily dabs at the speckle of red wine that has landed on his pearly white top.

10:23pm Download attached image. “Just in case, here’s a little something to get the night started 😉”

“What the hell man?” Junho gets up and makes his way to the bathroom. Luckily, the previously called attendant had arrived in time to escort him.

Seokjin barely notices that he is alone in room as he taps the download button. It isn’t until he has returned home and is looking at the picture one last time before bed that he realizes who his mysterious texter is.

The employee nametag clipped to the collar of your workday shirt hanging on the arm of a chair can only be found when zoomed in past your painted toes and naked feet.

...

You cannot hide your nervousness when you arrive at your “lunch meeting” the following Monday morning. All weekend, you had cursed yourself for not better checking who the recipient of your texts were before pressing send. Never had you thought that in your drunken stupor you would mix up “The Devil” in your contact list with “Taehyung Kim.” Curse you and your lack of friends beginning with the letter ��T”.

You balk before, a hand poised in perfect position for a knock. Maybe he didn’t download it? And even if he did, it was just a troll feet pic. You had made sure that it was as pg-13 as possible before you had sent it.

“Hi,” you greet sheepishly when he has given you the go to enter.

In a smart plain blue button-up and round frames that are almost certainly for the aesthetics, the CEO of the company and your boss sizes you up and down.

“I know we’ve gotten to know each other better these past few weeks. But you’d think it’s still common courtesy to at least make eye contact,” he says. You look at him wide eyed without a word.

He rolls his eyes but does not gesture to your usual seat. In fact, you don’t spy a take-out container in sight. He instead stands up and picks up his phone, walking to the door. He notices you have yet to move.

“Let’s get moving. You’ve only got a 45 minute lunch.”

You scramble to match his speed and catch Taehyung’s eye as you grab your jacket at your desk. Taehyung’s gaze follows you as you hurry to leave in pursuit of Seokjin’s coattail.

...

The restaurant is a popular vegan establishment with a plethora of greenery crawling up its high ceilings and a window-framed overview of the city’s skyline. Waiters and waitresses who may just as well be walking New York Fashion Week serve you brunch mimosas on a golden plate; they attentively wait to the side in case you ever run out of water.

Common topics are rare between the two of you. Initially, you respectfully kept quiet and only answered questions when asked, but you have never been one for awkward silence. Yes, it’s awkward only if you make it awkward; there is just no denying the hanging suspense that curls your toes each time. Recently, you have started with simple inquiries regarding the company, who they might meet at the Gala and everyday mundane topics.

“You’re probably wondering why we’re out of the office,” Seokjin says. He continues shortly after taking a bite of his meal and ignores the look of your surprise at his initiation of a conversation. “My office has been getting stuffy with the warmer weather so I thought it’d be nice to get some fresh air. How’s the food?”

You nod, making small sounds of contentment as you chew on the Avocado Lime Tartare. Mmm… tart-y.

He takes a deep breath in, stalling the incoming conversation. “It’s my friend’s birthday this next weekend.”

“Oh,” you say, “Happy early birthday to him.”

“He’s my best friend.”

“Well… An extra happy early birthday to him.”

A sigh. “Are you free next weekend?”

Your chewing comes to a halt and you blink once at his question. Next weekend is the weekend before the Silver Gala. It is also the sole weekend before your birthday the following Friday after the Gala. You had hoped to spend it with Taehyung and maybe even Jimin who had promised to be in town on a long overdue vacation despite your chastising to visit your parents first.

He senses your trepidation. Quickly, he explains himself,

“He’s having a birthday party Saturday night. He has a place about an hour north of here. I can have somebody pick you up if that’s more convenient. I don’t have a birthday present for him and thought it’d be nice for you to meet him.”

“You’re giving him me for a present?” you ask, incredulously.

He bites his tongue. He never anticipated how awkward this conversation could go.

“You’re going as my plus one. He really wants to meet you; in fact, he insisted that you be there. He’ll be at the gala too. I have something else planned for his birthday present,” he adds hastily, “Besides, you’re less than qualified as a present.”

Musing silently to yourself, you wonder if in any situation should a human be qualified as a present. Despite that, you hate yourself as you agree on the spot.

The rest of the lunch passes by quickly in dull silence. As Seokjin pays for the meal on the company card (and hands you the receipt for reimbursement), you note that there has been no comment made on any strange photos texted to him over the weekend.

Perhaps being nonchalantly implied as a human birthday gift to a stranger is your karma for sending weird texts to your boss.

Seokjin stays inside the car as he drops you off at the office after lunch, already preparing for his next business meeting. You nod your goodbye and step onto the pavement through the courteously held open door of the limousine.

“Y/N, try a soft pink. Fuchsia is not your colour,” he tells you as the door is closed.

He then leaves you standing in front of the large office doors, staring at your chipped, week-old purple toenails.

...

“I’m not exactly expecting a package in the mail or a dress laid out on the hotel bed – ”

“You guys are staying at a hotel?” Taehyung says over the phone.

You are standing in your bedroom, an hour before when Seokjin is supposed to pick you up as an offering to his best friend. There are two dresses laid out on your Hello Kitty bed covers: a simple black dress you had worn once when you were a little bit more in shape and your prom dress.

“No, I’m at home. But I mean, let me play into this movie metaphor.”

“You suck at metaphors.”

You have your phone propped up on some pillows so that you can see Taehyung as you debate your fashion decision. He is in a relaxed white tee, hair messily framing his face after a shower and a bowl of popcorn in his hands. You watch as a droplet of water runs down his face from his still-wet hair. He nonchalantly licks it off from the side of his mouth.

“As I was saying, it wouldn’t hurt to get me something. He made it seem like it was a big deal. Like doesn’t the male lead usually surprise the female lead with a big bouquet of flowers and this over-the-top expensive dress which she wears and makes the male lead fall head over heels in love with her?”

He chews silently on a kernel then probes, “You want Mr. Kim to fall in love with you?”

“No,” you hastily correct, “It’s a metaphor. I think you’re the one who sucks at metaphors.”

There is a beep on your phone to indicate you have another incoming call.

“Tae, I’m going to have to call you back. My brother’s calling me,” you tell him. The black dress; your old prom dress is way too early 2000s. Black never hurts.

“Okay. Have fun tonight. Pretend that it’s your birthday party. And then I’ll meet you for brunch tomorrow, my treat? You can tell me all about it,” he says. “Also the black. You look cute in that one.”

“My party if I was 30, rich and successful. Oh wait, I’ll have one thing in common soon; that’s a start. Thanks though. I’ll call you tomorrow morning once I get up,” you say, then switch the call over to your brother. You had missed the flush of his cheeks as you busily swipe your phone.

Sticking the prom dress back into your closet, you rummage around the meager display of shoeboxes for a pair of high heels.

“Hey, Jimin,” you greet over the phone.

“Jesus, I do not need to be accosted by my half-naked sister,” he yells over the phone.

You turn rapidly, seeing that you had accidentally continued a video call from when you had hung up on Taehyung. You throw a pillow over the camera in your haste to cover yourself up.

“I was going to ask why you’re dressed like that but on second thought, I think I’ll leave your sexual exploits as your own secret.”

Despite how disturbed you feel about this comment, his cheerful voice makes you smile.

“So little sis, the weekend before the big three-oh!”

“Please stop reminding me.”

“Where do you want to meet tonight? I just got off the plane, but I can be ready to meet in about an hour. I booked a hotel close to the airport.”

Shit. You forgot to tell Jimin. These heels will have to do.

“Um… I, uh…”

“What?”

You clear your throat and begin to undress in front of the mirror. You have a sudden conscious thought that the dusty treadmill in your living room seems to be staring daggers at your back.

“I’ve got plans tonight.”

“Plans? I wasn’t even aware you had friends here.”

“Ouch, Jimin. But yes, I have friends. In fact, I am meeting a friend for brunch tomorrow if you want to join. I’m sure he’ll be okay with it.”

“He?” Jimin repeats, “Should I put on my big brother boxing gloves? Give him a good talking to in case he’s interested in my baby sister?” Pause. “Was that who you were calling before?”

You bite your answer back, not feeling the need to go down that rabbit hole.

“He’s just a friend; A co-worker really,” you say, “He’s also unavailable. And before you suggest anything, his goalkeeper is technically one of my bosses so I do not want to try and shoot past her thank you very much.”

Jimin laughs. “I wasn’t going to suggest anything. Well if you’re busy tonight, tomorrow morning works for me. Give me a call. I’ll spend the night in watching some good ol’ Netflix and enjoy this vacation time.”

“Sorry again,” you apologize.

“Go out and have fun,” he says, “You deserve it.”

The two of you finish off the call with the usual goodbyes. You have forty-five minutes to dress the part of a sparkly birthday surprise for the co-founder of the company you work for. Throwing on your favourite throwback music, you get to work.

Once satisfied, you snap a picture and sending it to Taehyung making special care that you have picked the right individual this time.

...

The mansion is bigger than you could have ever imagined, and the amount of people present are…

“You’re telling me I can do whatever I want tonight,” you ask Seokjin in the car.

There is no denying that Seokjin knows how to dress for an event. In a velvety black and white suit, contrasted by his blonde hair which he has elected to temporarily dye for the evening, he looks very much the posh CEO magazines brand him out to be. You are glad you elected for the simple black dress as standing beside this Renaissance statue in a floral pastel yellow dress would be like planting dandelions in Kanye’s sculpture garden (if he ever wanted one).

“The majority of people won’t recognize you after tonight. They’ll also be too drunk to even register anything you tell them,” Seokjin says.

He cannot believe that you chose a simple black dress. Did you really not own anything remotely feminine besides the most generic clubbing outfit? Even if you had wanted to make an appearance as a hooker, at least make it an expensive-looking one. Maybe he should have bought you that Versace dress he spotted in the window the other day. Instead…

“Take this. Your earrings are too gaudy for this event.”

You touch the sparkly black cats you have put into your ears. Their eyes are made of crystal, and you thought it looked quite fetching in the light. Opening up the box, you see a dainty elegant pair of teardrop earrings that may or may not be of real diamonds.

“Only Junho will know who you really are and then you can enjoy the rest of your night. I don’t want you to feel like you’re being held here against your will.”

Putting them on, you note that even this simple change in attire has elevated the entirety of your presence. You felt as luxurious as this gift.

“Thanks, Seokjin,” you try the first name basis he had insisted upon for this evening, “Not going to lie, I had imagined that maybe you’d send me a dress in the mail or something, but this is still very nice.”

He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Like in the movies? Please, I run a start-up company. I’m not a millionaire and I don’t think you would appreciate my handouts.”

You don’t respond, making your second note of the night on the Prada label on the cuff of his suit. “To clarify, I don’t introduce myself as your plus-one tonight.”

“No. I don’t want you associated with me,” he curtly states. He watches as your smirk twitches and he hits himself mentally in the head again. “It’s to protect you. There are bound to be tons of paparazzi tonight at a party as big as this. I don’t want you to find yourself in the tabloids tomorrow morning. Just be smart.”

The car pulls to a stop after inching its way up to the front door. People mill about outside in extravagant brands, holding glasses of champagne. The man of the hour is somewhere inside the building, charming his way into new business deals as well as making new friends.

“Stay close to me. You can leave after we meet Junho. It is his birthday after all,” Seokjin offers a hand as you step out of the car.

You take it, looping yourself into him so that your hand rests on his forearm. You are only 13 days younger than Junho, and yet this striking contrast in lifestyle hits you like a landslide while the two of you walk up the stairs and into the mansion.

Inside, it is dim with disco lights flashing to the beat of amped party music. Upon entrance, the two of you are offered glasses of liquor (you take a swirling iridescent drink) to which you are then ushered to where the birthday boy lounges.

Junho has an even more youthful face than Seokjin does. Where Seokjin’s features exude class and charm, Junho appears mischievous and looks to have stepped out of every girl’s bad boy dream.

You stop Seokjin with a tug and make him look at you. “Tell me: do I look like a passable birthday offering?”

Seokjin rolls his eyes and pulls you along with him.

“Jin!” Junho hollers loudly across the room when spotting his oldest friend. There is a doll-like female magnetized to his side. “This is Clara, my date for the evening.”

Seokjin shakes her hand and greets them. The female cannot seem to pry her eyes away from this handsome new stranger. He introduces himself chivalrously to her as Junho sides up to you and grips your hands in his. His breath smells strongly of mixed drinks, and you know that in about fifteen minutes the entire night will be a blur for him.

“You must be Y/N!” he says excitedly, “Jin didn’t tell me that you were coming! What a surprise!”

“I am,” you greet back with a large smile. “Although I’m also surprised. Seokjin told me that you had insisted I came.”

Seokjin grits his teeth, annoyed at Junho. Would he ever learn when to keep his big mouth closed?

Laughing loudly, Junho grabs two drinks just as a waiter passes by and hands them to you. “Insist might be a strong word,” he says, drilling another hole unknowingly, “I honestly thought I’d have to play part-time wingman tonight. But I’m glad he’s got someone by his side.” He jabs you a little too hard in the ribs. “Next week’s gala is going to be fun! Okay, now there’s only one rule tonight: there are no rules!”

The four of you clink your glasses together, while you do your best to hide an embarrassed smile on behalf of the birthday boy.

“You bet I’m going around as your trophy wife tonight,” you whisper in Seokjin’s ear when Junho looks away.

He whirls around to look at you, the tip of both your noses impossibly close together. He can taste the acidity of the wine when you breath out with a wicked smile. He barely has time to stop you as you peel yourself away to mingle with the crowds.

Seokjin is about to follow you but Junho pulls him away, flamboyantly introducing his handsome best friend to a group of international models. He turns on his brightest smile, but his heart thunders in his chest at you calling yourself his wife.

...

You twirl around in your dress, nobody noticing the small splash of champagne on the front of it in the quickly changing lights.

“He bought this for me last week. Says it reminds him of the first night we met. Our eyes met across the waters in Tuscany where he was on a business trip. I’ll let you on a little secret, but I was his mistress for a little while.”

Seokjin cannot make out the words you are saying to a small but growing group of people around you. He stands across from Junho, but looks over the latter’s shoulders to watch as you do another spin.

“A little while, Charlotte? Are you still his mistress?” an older lady with an exuberant amount of jewels hanging off her body whispers with a keen interest in your expertly spun story.

Charlotte Dior Laurent, an identity you are pretty sure is an amalgamation of French brands from the top of your mind. You continue to personify this character however.

“Don’t worry. He’s left her since. I know I know, my friends all say the same. ‘He’s already been divorced three times. How can you be sure he won’t leave you?’”

At this point, you are in way over your head at having told this story to at least two other groups and a multitude of other renditions to whomever you have met tonight. But there is something powerful about liquid courage as it courses through your body.

The lady lays a hand on your arm. “I don’t want your heart to break. You are still young.”

Looking up between the heads of your audience, you catch Seokjin’s eyes. They are fiery and it sends a strange sensation up your toes to your abdomen. You give a titillating wave at him in which he does not return.

“He says I’m special and different. How can you say no to that?” you exclaim with exasperation, fully committing to the poor damsel just oh-so in love.

There is a look of genuine concern on the lady’s face at your statement.

Before you can dig yourself a deeper hole, you place your empty glass on the table and excuse yourself. You do not know if it’s the drinking on a relatively empty stomach or if the room is really much warmer due to the multitude of bodies, but you head out to the balcony.

On your way out, you notice that the clock reads twenty minutes past midnight. This gives you a shock at how fast time has passed. Perhaps you should go find Seokjin if you are to get a decent amount of sleep before meeting with Taehyung and Jimin tomorrow. Speaking of Taehyung…

You pull out your phone and see that there are two unread messages. The first is from Jimin, confirming that he is indeed invited to brunch tomorrow morning. The second is a response from Taehyung.

11:09pm “Wow. You have me a little lost for words. I had imagined you’d look nice in the dress but… You really are beautiful.”

Smiling, you type in your response.

12:21am “Thanks, Tae. You’re up late.” You take a picture of the earrings Seokjin had gifted you and attach it to the message. “What do you think of these?”

Barely have you returned your phone into your bag when it buzzes again. This time you receive an attached image. Taehyung seems to be sitting in front of a monitor, as his face glows with a blue light and contorted into a pensive furrow of his brows.

12:21am “A little different from your usual style. Are they new? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear those.”

12:21am “Fei’s out with some friends tonight. She likes when I wait for her to come back before I sleep. To make sure she’s safe, I guess.”

12:22am “Pooey. I should’ve brought you as my plus-one 😩. Also, Seokjin bought them for me for tonight. He says my other earrings are too gaudy.”

12:24am “First name basis 🙃”

12:25am “How is your night going? Having fun?”

You are about give Taehyung a call for a detailed recounting of tonight’s escapades when someone speaks out from within the shadows.

“A penny for your thoughts?” He walks into the moonlight. You flush, meeting the eyes of this particularly dashing gentleman, the phonecall immediately forgotten.

Oh, Alcohol, you make even the smartest of people do dumb shit. And right now, your effects are even worse on this idiot.

Your mouth hangs slightly open as you watch him puff out smoke from his cigar and offer it to you. He brushes up beside you, his fingers trailing up your hand which grips the balcony. You cannot seem to break away from his gaze.

“Lung cancer has an increasing incidence rate particularly for females due to smoking. Are you sure you want to be condoning this type of behaviour?” Seokjin interjects himself between you and your Tuxedo Mask, pushing the outstretched cigar back towards its owner.

There is a small stare down amongst the two men before the latter quietly exits the stage. Your eyes continue to linger on him even as he walks towards another female alone in the night enjoying the outdoor breeze.

“You’ve just ruined by chance. I could have seduced then blackmailed him with the story of his illegitimate child to play Black Widow,” you whine.

Seokjin takes the glass that had somehow magically appeared in your hand during the short walk from inside to outside on the balcony.

“How many have you had since we came?” he asks.

You sigh wistfully, still in your dangerous daydream. “I don’t know. I’ve lost count.” You turn your attention back to him eventually. “What are you doing here? Did you see me with him and get all jealous, hubby?” you tease.

He scoffs, drinking from your glass and pulling a face. Once again, there is that twist and jump within his chest, but he attributes it to whatever nasty concoction he had just ingested. He pours its contents over the railing and into whatever shrubbery lies below. “You seriously went with being my trophy wife?”

You shrug. “Of sorts. You’d better be right about people being too drunk slash not caring about me enough after tonight to remember the things I’ve said. ‘Cuz you’ve been divorced three times, had me along with another as your mistress, I think you’ve sired a few illegitimate children and all in all, a Games of Throne life. Damn, maybe I made you a little too badass.”

“You’re having water for the rest of the night,” he says.

You glare at him, contemplating on making a remark about his equally flushed face but decide against it. Instead, you lean onto the balcony and give a cat stretch. A large sigh escapes from you.

Wordlessly, he shakes off his jacket and places it around your shoulder all the while averting his gaze on the unblemished skin of your upper thighs that had been exposed from your previous movement.

Your blood feels like liquid fire coursing through your veins. Feeling overheated even in the evening breeze, you give him back his jacket. You note his reluctance to meet you even as you throw what could be a thousand dollar jacket in the air to him. “So what’s it like to live like this every day?” you say in wonder. You feel said breeze return and lean over the balcony to catch its chill.

“Like what?” he asks. The warm summer night’s breeze blows through, settling his hair in a childish tousle.

“Like rich,” you say. You sigh again. “Believe it or not, I’m the same age as your birthday boy best friend.

And everything feels absolutely unreal right now. If I hadn’t agreed to come here tonight with you, I’d probably be at another dingy bar knocking back shots with my brother and friend.”

“Are you a secret alcoholic?”

You glare at him. “No,” you state matter-of-factly. “As I was trying to share, this type of lifestyle is something I could ever only imagine. I’m not ungrateful about spending time with them, but at the end of the night I’d go home, sweaty, drunk and gross, and then simply pass out. My bank account might be a couple hundred bucks lighter. Come Monday I’ll be working my ass off just to earn back what I had spent. Then cue the repeating cycle.”

Resting your chin on your palm, your other hand sweeps your hair back behind your ear.

“It’s amazing the difference a few life choices can have.”

Seokjin remains silent beside you. Truthfully, he is at a loss of words. The moonlight plays across your face and caresses your nose down to your lips. You are arching your back once again to pull away the soreness that comes with wearing high heel the entire night. It is just a simple black dress but on you it made you look –

“Well, you’re Mrs. Kim tonight,” he starts.

“Charlotte Dior Laurent,” you correct him.

He raises an eyebrow. “Okay… Ms. Charlotte Dior Laurent. Tonight you get to live like the rich, as you’ve put it. As a rich person, what would you like to do?”

You ponder his question a few moments for the answer. “Hmm…I think I’d like to play golf. It’s a rich person’s sport. I want to play it on a private golf course, wearing cute golfing outfits and talk about million-dollar deals with a client without a care in the world. I want to order sangria by the gallon.”

He laughs out loud. It takes a while for him to be able to speak again, but when he does you feel as if the night has been illuminated a few degrees brighter. “I personally don’t have a private golf course, but Junho does here in his backyard if you’re up for it. I can’t promise cute golfing outfits so you’ll have to do with your wine stained dress. And if you’re really up for it I can pretend to make business deals with you, that’s my job anyways.”

You grin, taking the hand he has offered you. “Call.” The two of you shake upon his suggestion.

As he is leads you by the hand towards the dim gates of said golf course, you tug at him gently. “There’s something missing…” you say.

He shakes his head and pulls you back in towards the party room.

“I’ll see what they have at the bar.”

...

As the hands of the clock continue to spin past another hour, the summer night takes a chilly turn. Seokjin has lent you his jacket but even that cannot stop your fingers from becoming numb. Your hands shake even as they tightly hold the golf club. Seokjin watches you in silence as you prepare to hit the golf ball, a beer in one hand and a few opened bottles littered on the grass beside him. The club hits the ball with a resounding “cling” but does little in propelling it a few centimeters.

“This one doesn’t count,” you announce, “It’s too dark to see anything here.”

Seokjin takes a swig as you readjust your position. You sway in the wind and the last tendrils of your hair come undone in its half up half down hairdo. Your hair now whips wildly around your face when another gust blows through.

“Shit!” you exclaim, missing the ball again. “Why is golfing so hard?!”

You throw your club down and trudge to Seokjin. The six pack the two of you had been sharing has officially been depleted. Seokjin offers you his half empty bottle. This time, you are the one watching as he goes to your spot and effortlessly swings his target into the darkness.

He smirks from the spot.

You grumble. “You’ve had years of practice. Not fair.”

“You’ve got to do better than that, Mrs. Johnson,” he says, teasing you.

Your grumble becomes more audible. You place the now empty bottle on the ground and cross your arms against your chest. Since telling him of your other American alias from tonight, he has not ceased to remind you of your strange choice of name.

“Just so you know, Mrs. Johnson can afford both an affair and the consequential prenup,” you huff.

“It’s still a stupid last name.”

“It’s an American multinational corporation with an income in the billions, okay?”

“Keep telling yourself that if it makes you sleep better at night. Now come on, I’ve got one last ball. Take a swing.”

Groaning, you shuffle over. You wish you had not suggested golf. You had never been good at sports anyways – bad hand-eye coordination.

He stands beside you this time, scrutinizing your every movement with hawk-like eyes. “No, not like that,” he says, “Have a wider stance and bend your knees. Better centre of gravity gives you a better swing. Also hold it with a neutral grip.”

You readjust your positioning following his instructions.

“Index finger down the center. Good. And three knuckles on each hand. No, that’s two. Okay your hands are just weird now. Three. I said three.”

“Stop standing there and show me then, Mr. Know-It-All,” you say, your patience in this makeshift lesson also coming to an end.

He walks closer to you, reaching out for the golf club. He retracts his hands in seeing that you have yet to let go. “You got to – ”

“You can touch me. I did tell you that Mrs. Johnson can afford an affair and prenup. Besides, I’m not going to be able to learn anything if I can’t even see you in this dark.”

He comes behind you and puts a foot between yours to guide your stance. Wrapping his arms around you, he fixes the placement of your hands to grip the shaft of the club in the way he had previously instructed.

Perhaps it is the mixture of wine, champagne and beer offered tonight, but being enveloped in the warmth of this embrace intoxicates you. The tingles that are sent down from his soft breathing on the base of your neck, make you shake like a leaf in the wind.

He inhales the sweet undertones of your perfume. The tendrils of your hair brush against his collarbone, sending a sensual kiss onto his skin. Unconsciously, he draws you closer to him, shielding you from another gust.

“Now you just want to swing,” he says, the words a mixture of a whisper and guttural grunt. His chest rumbles with it, passing the vibration through to your back.

You remain as still as a statue and lean ever so slightly back into him until your entire backside is pressed upon him.

You can’t stop yourself as you ask him, “Do you want to have sex with me?”

...

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wheeier · 3 years

Text

trust me

summary: steve coming out to you as bisexual :)

warnings: fluff !! nervous steve, maybe emotional reader bc that would be me

i got teary-eyes writing this but yeah anyways

bisexual!steve harrington x fem!reader

steve had been thinking about it for three months now. at first he didn't believe it – thinking it's not real and he's just insane, because all he know is boys like girls, and girls like boys. poor boy doesn't even know that the word bisexual actually exists. but after robin came out to him as lesbian almost a year ago, maybe the feeling he has was right this entire time. he isn't crazy as he think he is.

steve decided to talk to robin about the situation, since she knows better about this than anyone else.

"i just don't know why you won't tell her," robin says as she puts phoebe cates' standee in place, scrunching her face at her friend, who was visibly stressed out about the current situation. "(y/n) obviously loves you and will accept you no matter what. hell, she's like, head over heels for you. anyone can tell if they see you two together." she finishes as she walks near the boy.

steve lets out a huff, "i know she loves me, i do too. but i'm still scared." he says quietly, thinking anyone would hear, although they were about to close the store and no one was around except them two.

"that's fine. you know, i was so afraid to tell you about me, too. but you've gained my trust, dingus. and you're stuck with me for life." robin pats his shoulder as a way of her saying that his feeling is totally valid and also a way of her saying thank you.

trust. it's a big word for steve. he had trusted so many people in his life, but most of them betrayed and hurt him. he already lost the person he once truly loved and trust, nancy wheeler. it hurt him so much, like someone took his glass heart and dropped it, stomped on it, destroyed it in a thousand pieces.

he doesn't know if he can handle it if he loses you too.

"i'm just- what if she gets upset? what if she runs away?" steve turned his head to robin with a terrified face. "then it's her loss. you're an amazing person, steve. although you're a dumbass most of the time." steve lightly punched her shoulder, making her laugh.

"in all seriousness, just tell (y/n) what you feel when you're ready. i'm sure she won't do anything that would hurt you. i'm telling you she loves you more than anything you could ever think of."

—

a week after that conversation with robin, he was finally sure about what he is and what he likes.

the phone ringing from the living room caught your attention right after you put the pancakes on the plate. "it's just 7 in the morning, who the hell calls this early?" you muttered to yourself.

he immediately felt bad when he heard your frustrated 'hello' on the other line. "babe, hey. good morning, i'm sorry if i interrupted you or anything." you smiled upon hearing his voice. "hey, it's fine, don't worry about it. what made you call this early?" you asked as you sat on the floor. "i..i need to tell you something, but not here on the phone. i wanna tell it in person." you could tell that his voice was mixed with seriousness and anxiousness, which made you assume the worst.

"oh, okay. um.. are you gonna come here? i just made pancakes, i know you love those." you suggested, glancing back at the table as the smell of the pancake filled the house.

steve agreed and told you he would be there in a few minutes so you prepared breakfast for him and prepared some orange juice.

as expected, steve came ringing the doorbell and you fixed your hair a bit before opening the door. you half-expected him to look smiley and happy, but it was different. you stepped aside to let him in and shut the door.

"what is it that you wanted to tell me?" you said calmly, almost comforting that made steve melt. you brushed a strand of his hair away from his face and rest your hand on his cheek. "can we..sit?" he mutters quietly and you nodded.

you intertwined your fingers with his and dragged him to the kitchen where his favorite breakfast lays. he sat beside you, not saying any words. his heart was beating so fast and he's sure that you can practically hear it.

"everything okay?" you asked after putting the pancakes on your plate. you were starting to get nervous, thinking it's really that serious. "how..where do i even begin with this.. uh.." steve started mumbling to himself, you placed your hand on his forearm, letting him know that he can trust you.

steve let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding. "you know you can tell me anything, right? whatever that is, you can trust me." he stared into your eyes, searching for any hint of lie – but there weren't any.

he slightly nodded before looking around but you. "i like you, i mean, of course i do, you're my girlfriend. jesus, uh.. you know i love you, right?"

"yeah," your voice was quiet, unable to speak clearly because of the loud beating of your heart, but at least he admitted that he actually loves you. "yeah. of course."

steve took a deep breath, having the courage to look at your eyes. "before i say it, if you get mad i totally get it, but i hope you won't be. i just, don't wanna lose y-"

"steve?"

"-yeah?"

"just get to the point, please. i promise i won't be mad." you gave him a reassuring smile, and he returened you one.

"promise?"

"promise."

there was a few seconds of silence before he speaks again. "..i like girls. and.." he started, and you made a confused face. "and..i'm pretty sure i'm attracted to..guys, too." his voice trails off but you were able to catch it. he started to panic when you didn't say anything.

he looks down on his palm, picking his nails like he used to when he's anxious. "robin said it's called bisexual, at first i didn't know what it means but now i'm sure that i am that. and i've been thinking about that in the last three months but i didn't know how to tell you, because.. i was scared that you will leave me," his voice almost broke and when he had the courage, he looked back into your eyes. "but just know that i love you so much and if you don't love me anym–" he was interrupted with your hug, slowly letting out a sob which made him worry.

"(y/n)?" he was relieved when you looked up with a smile, sniffing as you let go of him. "sorry, this should be your moment, i just got carried away." you slightly laughed as you wiped your tears. he didn't say anything, he just looked at you, waiting for an answer.

"steve harrington, what made you think that i would ever leave you?" you held his hands with yours, drawing circles using your thumb to help him relax.

"you're not-"

"mad? no, of course not." you shook your head in disagreement. "why would i be mad at you? in fact, i am so so proud of you," you rest your hands on either side of his cheeks, his eyes still wide. "i know it's hard for you to do this but you did it, you're brave, and.. that's one of the things why i love you too." the tears went back to your eyes, "and i am glad that you did this, it means so much to me because i know that you trust me."

you sniffed, then let out a shaky breath. "i have no reason to be mad at you, steve. there's literally no reason. nothing will change. i'm still (y/n), your girlfriend and you're still steve, the love of my life and the one i would marry someday." steve smiled at your words and was about to make a joke about it, but stopped himself because he doesn't wanna ruin the moment.

"you became true to yourself and accepted it. there's nothing wrong with that." at this point you didn't care about the tears in your eyes, because he was crying too.

when he didn't say anything you just wiped his warm tears and pulled him for a hug, which he returned this time. "i love you so much, steve. more than anything you could ever think of."

his mind recalls the time when he talked to robin — when she said the same exact thing, and she was right.

"me too. i love you."

you were the first one to pull away from the hug that seemed like hours. "hey, stop crying now because i'll cry even more. i'm an emotional mess, remember?" you both laughed at your comment as he wiped your tear-stained cheek. you were glad to hear his laugh again, that laugh that you always admired. "okay." he chuckles as he nods, wiping his own tears too.

he turned to the table, ready to eat the now-cold pancakes you made. you remembered he even said that it doesn't taste the same if it wasn't you who cooked it.

once you both finished eating breakfast and cleaned the table, you headed back to the living room, prepared the movie ferris bueller's day off and he sits beside you, lower than usual so that your chin reaches the top of his head. you notice him look up at you, so you tilted your head down to see. "what?" you grin.

steve quirked an eyebrow, remembering your words from earlier. "so you're gonna marry me someday, huh?" he teased, but he knows you were serious. "no, actually. that was just for show." you rolled your eyes jokingly while a smile was visibly showing on your lips. "of course, dummy. there's no other person in the world that i would want to marry but you." when he smiled, you planted a kiss on his forehead before continuing to watch the movie.

you wrap your arm around his shoulder as you brush his hair with your other hand and not even an hour yet, he was already sound asleep in your arms.

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington fluff #fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #bisexual steve harrington #you are all loved #stranger things fluff

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robinofinashiro · 3 years

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“look, i know we don’t know each other that well, but i’m still worried about you. no one deserves to be alone.”

characters: hoshiumi kourai x fem! reader / slight miya atsumu

request status: OPEN / please send any reqs you guys have! my inbox is currently empty and im lacking in any kind of writing inspiration...like seriously lacking lmao. there could be a part two if any of you are interested in one.

you looked at your now ex boyfriend, trying to keep your tears at bay. the two of you were standing outside the bar, not knowing what you were planning on saying the man you loved as you saw him with a girl on his lap, laughing and giggling at whatever he was saying.

“you could’ve just broken up with me, it would have saved me time and effort,” you told him with a stone cold face. you could tell Atsumu was in a straight panic, not knowing what to say or do, “honestly, I would have handled the break up a lot better than you would have assumed I would have.”

Atsumu reached out to grab your hand but you quickly snatched it back, putting it behind your back, “no, you don’t get the right to hold any part of me anymore. whatever you were doing, do it with the girl you were just with,” you exclaimed, a laugh of bitterness leaving you, “but I don’t want that girl, I want you!” he yelled.

you rolled your eyes, not believing a word he was saying, “no, you wanted a girl to fuck with on the side while I waited for you at home. you’re just angry you got caught, Miya, that’s all,” you stated. Atsumu felt stray tears falling down his face as you noticed a familiar face with snow white hair popping out of the front of the door.

“as wrong as this is to say, I was always preparing myself for this. my grandmother always said to have a envelope of cash and money as runaway money in case I ever needed to get away...” you played with you finger nails before looking up to him for one final time, “I’ll be moved out in a few days. the apartment is under your name and I don’t mind getting a new place,” you added on.

Atsumu saw you walking away, not believing that you were actually leaving him. he grabbed your ankle, practically putting on a scene for everyone who was hanging out in the front of the building, “Atsumu, this is embarrassing for you. quit it while you still have some dignity left, jesus christ,” you said not realizing the mantrum that he was throwing, “you really should’ve thought this all out before you decided to cheat. I always had one rule and you knew it. I could quickly replace you as fast as we got together and this was your one chance.”

you kicked yourself out of his grip, walking into the bar to have yourself a drink. you saw the girl who was on Atsumu’s lap not wanting to look you in the eye as she sat on her chair in shame, “enjoy him girlie because as you can tell, he’ll quickly replace you when he gets bored,” you tipped your glass of dark liquor to her in a ‘good luck’ type of way before finding an empty seat.

that familiar snow white hair you saw earlier happened to be Hoshiumi who was walking towards you. you being the former Inarizaki manager made you know the names to the most popular players from each team they played so Hoshiumi was no stranger.

“hey,” you heard his voice say over the music. you gave him a smile with a small wave, not wanting to say, “you okay? I accidentally overheard your situation with Atsumu earlier,” he asked, pulling the seat out from the other side of the table.

you shrugged knowing that all the raw emotions from the argument and what you just had saw hadn’t settled in yet, “I don’t know,” you said truthfully, “my boyfriend of three years was cheating on me and if I’m okay right now, I know I won’t be tomorrow,” you explained.

Hoshiumi nodded understandingly, “do you mind if I sit with you for the rest of the night?” he asked quietly, in a sort of shy way, which was odd considering Hoshiumi was just as hyperactive as Hinata Shoyo from Karasuno way. “look, i know we don’t know each other that well, but i’m still worried about you. no one deserves to be alone.”

you felt that pang in your heart as you saw the warmness on Hoshiumi’s smile. you tried to contain your tears as best as you could but Hoshiumi saw right through that. he tracked down the waitress and ordered the two of you another round of drinks, your choice of course as he tried to focus the conversation on anything that wasn’t Atsumu or your breakup.

from that night forward, Hoshiumi was by your side for the entirety of your breakup. he was of help when you needed an extra hand to move all your things out of your shared apartment with Atsumu.

it didn’t sit right with Atsumu at the fact that Hoshiumi was seemingly close to you all of a sudden. he had saw him that night at the bar but he didn’t think he would take advantage of the situation and so quickly. never once in the entirety of your relationship with Atsumu did you ever mention befriending Hoshiumi and so closely but seeing the way he was helping you move out and making sure you were okay threw him way the hell off.

once you were finished taking your things out of the apartment, you looked to Atsumu and wiggled the set of keys that were on your keychain out. you gave him one last look before handing them to him, “so I take it that you won’t accept the job with the Jackals?” he asked.

“I think you know that answer, Miya.”

you walked out of the apartment, leaving a teary eyed Atsumu at the door as Hoshiumi waited for you at the front of the building. your place a few minutes farther from Atsumu’s place. it wasn’t as nice of a place in comparison to how you used to live but it would do until you found a job.

“what are you plans now?” Hoshiumi asked as he helped you unpack things from the box. you shrugged again, “I really don’t know. Atsumu had gotten me a job with the Jackals and those were plans for quite a while but considering that relationship is long gone, I guess I really have to start looking for a job before I go broke.”

Hoshiumi laughed, feeling his phone buzz multiple times. he looked down to see a few texts from Ushijima and Kageyama. to your luck, the Adlers had also gotten a job opening for a few positions with a team. Hoshiumi had mentioned to the team that he knew someone that could possibly take the position of the old manager and they had been grilling him about it since.

the pre-season was about to start and they needed an experienced manager and quick. considering your qualifications with Inarizaki and the degree you got in college, he knew you would do well on the job and all you would need is a bit of polishing up in order to be great if not even better than their former manager.

“listen, I don’t know how willing you will be to accept what I’m about to say but Schweiden has an opening for a positions and one of them is to be the team’s manager and assistant. I might’ve pushed your name because I know you’ve done the managerial position before and we need a manager as soon as possible.”

your eyes doubled down in confusion as Hoshiumi showed you the hiring paper. you quickly skimmed it down seeing that you had the qualifications for the job. you saw that it was a text from Kageyama Tobio that read if you had accept the position yet before their coach killed them.

“wait, how long would I be there?” you asked, gripping his phone. you looked at you, now slightly confused himself, “what do you mean? you’d be there as long as you want or until you quit. the position is permanent.” you read the application again and smiled, “I just got this place but tell them I’ll be available for an interview at any time.”

Hoshiumi tackled you into a hug, his hyperactive attitude running rampant again, “THANK YOU! THANK YOU! the team is gonna be so happy, I know it!” he exclaimed, quickly dialing his coaches number as you sat there, taking in your all new reality.

after a run through of a few interviews, the Adler’s ultimately gave you the position as their manager and assistant. they found you the most suitable as you had experience under your belt and got along with most of the team. well...as best as you could considering Kageyama and Ushijima weren’t really the talkative type to begin with.

the move to Tokyo was a bit easier than expected. Hoshiumi quickly helping you into your new apartment as he showed you around the Adler’s gym and even the town when he wasn’t busy. you had your own office since you were assisting the team’s coach with a few office related things but most of your duties were strictly to the team.

with your new job came new team photo’s for the year as well as your organizations employee id photo. your uniform consisted of black leggings or athletic shorts if Tokyo was particularly hot that day and a Schweiden sweater/t-shirt on game day. on non-game days where you had to be in your office, the general uniform was business casual unless it was Friday’s where you could wear your game day uniform.

the team photo day was around the corner and the Adler’s even had a few professional makeup artist for anyone who wanted to have their makeup done for the photos. Hoshiumi and to your surprise, Kageyama, landed in the makeup chairs right next to you as they both wanted to be concealed so their under eye bags weren’t as prominent.

“you ready for the pics?” Hoshiumi asked with an excited smile. you nodded just as excitedly, “working in volleyball again feels so weird but I can’t wait for the season to start!” you exclaimed as Hoshiumi gave you a high-five in agreement.

unbeknownst to you but known to the entire team, Hoshiumi had fell entirely head over heels for you. his heart eyes weren’t a secret to anyone besides you and if everyone was being honest, they really wanted Hoshiumi to get a move on with asking you out so he could stop coming to practice with a lovesick puppy look on his face.

after all of you were called to the gym to take the photos, they had all the players and coaching staff take their photos first before any managers and front office staff had their turns. while you waited for your turn, you were talking with the other manager so was an ex player of the team and had recently retired due to permanent injury to his arm.

“so how do you know Hoshiumi?” he asked as he saw the wave Hoshiumi was giving you. you smiled and waved back, “he was a friend of mine through high school and we just kept in contact since. Kourai and I are basically best friends if I’m being honest,” you explained.

he gave you a look before giving out a belly laugh, “just best friends? you have to got to be kidding. there’s more to your relationship with Hoshiumi than just best friends,” he admitted. you were a bit taken back by his answer as you asked him to explain, “come on, it’s not obvious? the decoy is in love with you. he follows you everywhere and has heart eyes for you and I can sense the feeling either is mutual or it’s starting to be on your end.”

you sat in silence, debating whether or not what he was saying was true. you had never taken into account romantic feelings Hoshiumi could have for you and vice versa. you knew deep down, you did harbor feelings for Hoshiumi but up until this point, you had never put it to the forefront of your brain.

“managers! it’s your turns now!” the photographer said. you nodded, going up to the small set up they had.

they had you do a bunch of different poses. one photo of just you smiling, another of you holding a volleyball, and a few with the other manager on the team. they had informed you that this year, they would be displaying team player photos along with head manager photos in the front of building, right outside of the gym to show appreciation to the entire team.

after the photo’s were finished, your head was still playing the conversation you had earlier. the idea of dating Hoshiumi did not sound so bad in the long run and you knew that it now wouldn’t come off as a surprise if you did in fact show feelings to him.

“Kou, what are you doing tonight?” you asked as he helped you with your bag after practice. he shook his head, saying nothing, “wanna come over? I wanna pig out on food before the season officially starts,” you giggled seeing his excited face as he grabbed your wrist and practically dragged you over to his car, exclaiming you both could get food and snacks.

the night came down to you watching a few movies from both of your childhood and basically talking/snacking the night away. it eventually got to the point where you moved closer to Hoshiumi, trying to find warmth as your AC was on full blast and you both were too lazy to get the blankets you had underneath your couch to actually get warm.

“hey Kou,” you said, trying to get his attention. he looked down to you, a warm smile on his face, “would you ever...be interested in dating? I heard a few members of the team saying that you liked me and for a while, I didn’t want to believe that but I figured there was no harm in asking because I totally feel the same,” you finally confessed.

Hoshiumi sat there, mouth wide in surprise as your heart basically fell your ass. your thoughts were immediately plagued with the idea that you had ruined your entire relationship with him but that was quickly put to rest as grabbed your closer and held your face as softly as ever before placing a kiss on both your cheeks before reaching your lips.

“honestly, I was about to ask you out tonight too. I’ve been having these feelings for a while now and I’m glad you finally confessed. I’ve truthfully liked you since the night I saw you with Atsumu but I didn’t want to make it seem as though I was being pushy.”

you laughed, pushing yourself away from him a bit as he dipped you down once again and kissed you again. you ran your fingers through his hair as he kissed your neck a bit and parts of your upper chest.

“you’re the best. I literally thought the best day of my life was the day I got the job for the Adler’s but this beats it by far!” he exclaimed, hugging you now. you laughed, shaking your head at his excitement, “I could say the same,” you giggled as you kissed him again.

a few weeks finally passed as the season was in full swing now. you were working a few days a week and going out on the days you had off with Kourai. the only dreadful part in all of this was that the Adler’s were playing Msby soon and you knew that you would in fact be seeing Atsumu during, before, and after the game.

Hoshiumi could see the slight nervousness and panic on your face the day of the game against the Black Jackals. you weren’t as excited as you were usually were and you were responding to the team in snippets and very short sentences. the team could sense your shift in attitude but didn’t bother to question it.

“hey, you okay?” Hoshiumi asked, pulling you to the side a few minutes before warm ups. you gave him a questioning look, “I can see you’re nervous and I’m pretty sure it’s probably because of Atsumu being here,” he assumed as you reluctantly agreed.

he sighed, bringing you in for a hug, “you don’t have to work today. I can make up an excuse that you got sick and say you’re in your office watching the game,” he said. you shook your head, “no, it would be immature of me to miss a game because of that fucking idiot. I’ll be okay, I promise,” you whispered, giving him a kiss of reassurance before letting him go.

a few feet behind, Atsumu had saw the entire interaction happen. his heart was admittedly broken, seeing the way you were kissing and hugging Hoshiumi. he hadn’t known that you were working with Scheweiden nor did he know that you were even dating Hoshiumi.

when the team had walked into the gym, he had saw your photo in the hallway entering the gym. your smile was one he missed and he felt himself get angry all over again. it had been months since the breakup but you had yet to unblock him from any social media so all of this news at once broke him.

the game was a lot more intense than they assumed it would have been. Hoshiumi and Atsumu playing to 100% and even getting into small scuffles. you had saw the interactions and knew it was probably because of you but were arguing when it came down to plays so it didn’t look as immature on the court.

ultimately, Schweiden won the game, beating the Jackal’s by a landslide in their last set. you were smiling at Hoshiumi as the game ended, bringing him a water and giving him a kiss before handing off the waters to Ushijima and Kageyama next. you had ran out of the gym for a few seconds to refill waters for a few players when you ran into the last person you expect.

“if you can excuse me Miya, I need to refill these,” you said, not even looking at him in the eye. he moved out of the way, seeing thew way you refilled the bottles as quickly as possible. once you were done, you were about to head back into the gym when he stopped you, “how are you?” he asked shyly.

you sighed, “fine Miya,” you said curtly. Atsumu growled in annoyance, “are you together with-,” “with me!” you heard Hoshiumi’s voice scream through the hall. you smiled at the sight of him as he pushed you behind him and sizing up the much taller Atsumu.

“this had nothing to do with you, Hoshiumi.”

“oh but it does! she’s my girlfriend, our manager, and a member of the team so whatever you need to say to her, you can say to me!” you laughed at Hoshiumi’s confidence as Atsumu looked at him, rage filling his eyes, “what? what’re you gonna do? hit me? you’d get suspended and look like a complete idiot to the entire V-league!”

“do we have an issue?” Ushijima asked, looking at Atsumu and Hoshiumi as Sakusa followed him, “no issue at all,” Atsumu gritted as Hoshiumi wore a proud grin on his face.

“that’s great to hear. come on ( your name ). Hoshiumi you better be in the gym in the next minute.”

“lets go Atsumu, you don’t win anything out of creating a scene,” Sakusa said as he grabbed his friend and tried dragging him out of the hallway. Hoshiumi waved at Atsumu as cockily as possible, “remember Atsumu! not only did we win the game but I also won your girl!” he screamed.

Atsumu went to jump but was pulled back by Sakusa and Bokuto as you walked out of the gym again to grab Hoshiumi. he grabbed you by the wrist and kissed you in front everyone that was in the hallway. Atsumu could hear Bokuto telling him to calm down but he wanted nothing more than to run over to Hoshiumi and kick his ass before reclaiming you as his again.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #atsumu miya #atsumu miya imagine #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya x you #hoshiumi korai #hoshiumi korai imagine #hoshiumi korai x reader #hoshiumi korai x you #sports anime #sport anime

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newtonsheffield · 3 years

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As much as I fucking loveeeee ✨Daddy✨ Greg, I feel like a ✨dom! Lucy✨ 🌶Spicy Sunday🌶 post would be so very iconic 🤠💅🥰🥳🥵👀

*clears throat*

I bet you thought I'd forgotten about this.

Oh no No. Molly never forgets a Ho (Hos are posts not people)

Gregory Bridgerton had no idea the switch that flipped when he was around Lucy Abernathy. Everything seemed to spiral out of control for him, spinning down in a dangerous spiral. Ironic really, because No one had things under tighter control than Lucy Abernathy.

She seemed to thrive on it. Everything about her screamed meticulous. Her eyebrows were perfectly shaped, her nails perfectly manicured, her shoes matched her handbag which matched her skirt, which matched her blouse. Gregory had looked up one day and frowned at the deep purple lipstick she had on and then at her shoes, Red.

"You don't match!" He'd said delightedly, smirking at her, something settling deep in his stomach as she raised her eyebrow a little imperiously, letting her lips brush his ear as she leaned towards him.

"Oh I think when you take me home tonight, Daddy, you'll find out that I actually do match."

Gregory's hips had bucked towards her at her words, and Lucy had given him a breathy chuckle walking back towards her desk outside Kate's office.

"Hey, Kate!" Gregory had called out ten minutes later, as long as he could stand Lucy staring at him eating a lollipop. "Lucy's feeling a little unwell so I'm going to take her home."

Kate had looked up from her desk, an eyebrow raised, seeing right through him. "Oh I'm sure she's unwell."

And when they'd burst through the door of Lucy's house in Chelsea and he'd eagerly ripped at her skirt and he'd seen the same colour purple tight across his skin he hadn't been able stop himself from groaning.

"Fuck I love you." As he bent her over the side table.

And the fact that He was the person that made her lose control, made him feel more than a little smug. He'd never really seen himself as a very dominant personality but the switch and flipped the very first time she'd underdressed herself for him he'd felt a possessive streak a mile wide.

But sometimes all he wanted was to be at the mercy of her rigid meticulousness. To hear her disapproving voice hot in his ear, the very thought of it had him adjusting the front of his trousers when he heard her clipped tone on the phone across the office.

Luckily for him, Lucy seemed to know exactly when he needed it. When her eye would catch his across the office while she handled some disagreement or another, and his eyes burn into hers. Her eyebrow would raise, a smirk on her lips, and he would know that they were playing a game now.

Would know that when she would walk into the kitchen, Gregory would follow her like a little puppy. Would know that when his hands went out to rest on her waist, fingers dipping into the waistband of her skirt, she would stop them just before they did, like an extra sense.

"No, Gregory. No touching. You know the rules. Not until I say so."

And he would whine even though they'd just begun the game, "Luce, please."

And her tongue would click as she turned back around, mug of tea in hand, eyebrow still raised. "You can touch Gregory, when you've shown me that you can be a good boy. Do you think you can be?"

He'd always nod, swallowing convulsively, "I can be."

Another wicked smirk, "We'll see."

It had gone just like that today and all afternoon Gregory had sat stock still at his desk, staring at Lucy across the room, every movement catalogued, until she stood from her desk heels clicking towards him.

"Gregory, it's time to go."

He stood from his desk immediately, ready to follow.

Lucy had smiled, "Babe, I know you're excited, but you probably still need to collect your things."

He'd barely had it in him to flush as he grabbed his satchel, then Lucy's hand and tried to drag her from the building, but Lucy had other ideas, letting him intwine their fingers but walked slowly through the room, stopping to chat to several people, meandering by the lifts and christ he was desperate.

Desperate as he sat in the passenger seat of her car, his hands folded in his lap, though he was aching to inch his fingers up under her skirt, and watch her squirm. But that wasn't the game today.

He waited in their entrance hall, following behind Lucy's every step, closely waiting for instruction. Lucy sighed as she finished hanging her coat in the closet, turning towards him.

"I should make you wait until after dinner."

Gregory's felt his muscles coil tighter, God please no.

"But I think you've been a very good boy this afternoon."

Gregory felt himself relax, his shoulders slumping as Lucy took his hand again, tugging him upstairs to their bedroom. Lucys fingers tugging at his tie, releasing it from his collar.

"I don't think you deserve to touch yet though."

Gregory whined "Lucy, Please."

"No Gregory. I'm in charge today. Take off your clothes."

Gregory did it immediately, standing in his Star Wars boxers embarrassingly quickly, Lucy's lips twitching as she saw them, fighting a smile, his tie wrapped around her fingers.

Gregory let himself be pushed against the bed, his head knocking against the headboard. Lucy's hands wrapping his tie tightly around his wrists, binding them to the headboard, his heart pounding, his hips already bucking towards her.

Her fingers tugging at the buttons of her blouse now slowly revealing the red lace of her lingerie, the same he'd watched her put on this morning his voice hot in her ear I'm going to fuck you stupid tonight and even then she'd chuckled Oh We'll see.

Her skirt pooling on the floor, and she made no effort to remove her stockings, her ridiculously high heels still in place.

"This is how you like it, isn't it?"

Her commanding voice shooting straight through him.

"Answer me Gregory. Do you like this?"

"Yes. God Yes, Please Lucy, please." It was wrenched from his chest, and as soon as he said it she climbed onto the bed, straddling his lap, his hands itching to touch the miles of smooth skin stretching out before him. Her hip starting to grind slowly against his thigh.

Her lips on his collarbone, teeth nipping along, tongue soothing afterwards.

"Lucy, I've waited all day." his voice crackled, grinding out his jaw tight.

And lucy sighed, "You're not being very patient, but I suppose I can forgive you."

And suddenly his boxers were lost, Lucy's underwear disappearing, and she was moving firmly against him, relentlessly, no build up, his breath leaving him in a harsh gasp, Lucy's beautiful face crumpled with concentration, her hands braced on his legs behind her to hold her balance as she gasped and moaned, moving powerfully above him. And Gregory had to fight not to finish almost immediately. Tension thickening the air around them, as they climbed higher and higher.

Lucy, Babe, It's so good, Fuck Fuck Fuck

Greg holy fuck. You're so good baby, what a good boy.

Echoing through the air, the sound of gasps and moans, sharp cries cutting through the air, and Gregory couldn't hold on any longer, heat tugging at his stomach pulling him over the edge with a sharp shout just as Lucy let out a cry of her own, shuddering against him, falling back against his legs as they fought for breath.

"Jesus." Gregory felt himself say, his shoulders aching a little from pulling against his restraints.

After several long seconds, Lucy sat up, her soft smile back as their lips finally touched, soft and warm, and his heart honestly felt fit to burst.

"Shit let me." She gestured to his hands. But he shook his head despite everything.

"Not until you sit on my face."

"where the fuck did you come from Gregory Bridgerton?" Was the last thing Lucy said before her moans broke through the room again, and Gregory burned with pride.

#bridgerton and sons au #gregory x lucy #gregory bridgerton #lucy abernathy #spicy sunday🌶#molly's asks and answers

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little-diable · 4 years

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A lil help - Dean x Reader x Sam (smut)

Request by anon

Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Reader helps the boys out on a case, but she is persistent when it comes to her reward.

Warnings: 18+, smut, threesome

Her skin felt sticky, drenched in body oil and glitter, fake lashes glued to her own ones, barely dressed. (Y/n) tried to swallow down the disgust that would crawl up her spine as she felt the men’s eyes on her, admiring every inch of her exposed skin, boobs pressed together by the tight, sparkly bra, short shorts wrapped around her legs, heels making her appear as tall as ever.

The things she’d do for the Winchester brothers and their cases.

They were hunting down a shapeshifter, following his trail that led them towards a strip club, instantly turning towards (y/n) for help. She’d be able to woo the man, to lure him into one of the back rooms. She was glad for those dancing lessons she took as a teen, effortlessly moving around the pole, dropping to her knees, sprawled out on the floor, smirking at the crowd.

“Come on please (y/n),” Dean smirked at her, staring at her bare face, twirling her loose strands of hair around his fingers, green eyes teasing her. Her heart was racing, mind focused on the man she had been wanting to kiss for a very long time, barely listening to the words he spoke, completely entranced by him.

“What’s in for me?” (Y/n) gave into his touch, hands placed on his sides, fisting the fabric of his grey shirt, “Well what do you want?” Sam’s voice made her tilt her head to the side, gaze finding his darkening eyes.

Her insides were burning, wondering how far she could take it, wondering if she could finally have what she had been dreaming about. “Mhmm” teasingly she bit her lip, “I’m sure I’ll come up with something.” The boys watched her leave the kitchen, swaying her hips, biting down her giggle, she had them wrapped around her little finger.

Dean couldn’t rip his enchanting green eyes off her frame, fuck, she was even more gorgeous than he had imagined, the need to grasp her and carry her to their motel room grew by the second, urged on by the jealousy that rose in the pit of his stomach.

“Dude,” Sam gave his brother a light shove, trying to ignore (y/n)’s almost naked figure on the stage, he couldn’t get distracted, at least not yet, “It’s him.” Sam pointed his finger towards the man they had been hunting down for the past week.

(Y/n) found the boys eyes, following their gaze, smirking to herself, he would be an easy target, at least easy enough to get it over and done with quickly. As soon as the song ended (y/n) made her way down from the stage, stalking up to the man she had her eyes focused on, “Hello handsome.” (Y/n) slung her arms around his neck, dropping down into his lap, thighs placed on either side of him.

His eyes wandered up and down her frame, confidently placing his hands on her behind, tracing the fabric of her tights, “Well hello there.” She uncomfortably shifted in his lap, biting down the need to puke her guts out, his breath fanned over her skin, god, how much she wanted to leave the club behind with the two brothers in tow, not letting the man touch her any further.

“I don’t like it Sam,” Dean clenched his jaw, hand enclosed around his bottle of beer, trying to keep himself from ripping the man away from (y/n), no longer caring about their hunt. Just as Sam opened his mouth to reply (y/n) rose from the target's lap, tugging on his tie, pulling him down the hallway, eyes finding the Winchester brothers.

Both instantly followed her, maybe they have been too carelessly, not caring if somebody watched them follow (y/n) and the man, not caring about any noisy bystanders, but fuck, they only wanted to get her out of there.

The boys have always been rather protective of the girl they had known for years, both would give their last breath for her, without ever thinking twice. But they also began to drown in the deep need they felt for her, the need to bury their lengths into her tightness, the need to taste her on their lips, the need to make her their own.

Both barged into the room, just in time to rip the man off her body, ending his pathetic life, freeing them and the town of the horror that seemed to follow him around.

“Finally,” (y/n) breathed out, grasping Deans outstretched hand, front pressed against his, deeply inhaling his intoxicating scent, “Thank goodness you’re okay.” Her chuckle made him open his eyes, pulling her head off his shoulder, “You big softie.” (Y/n) patted his chest, winking at Sam, “Take me home boys.”

The moment she stepped into their motel room a relieved sigh rumbled through her, her muscles felt sore, her body was aching with every step she took, “I’ll go on and take a shower, I need to scrub the glitter off me.” She kissed Sams cheek as she passed by him, taking off Deans sweater before she stepped into the bathroom, catching the boys wide eyes.

Hot water was crashing down on her, she rubbed the shower gel into her skin, watching the glitter make its way down the drain, makeup running down her cheeks. She could still feel the boys eyes on her as she was dancing to the song, felt a faint pulsing in her lower region, walls clenching around nothing as she imagined the things they’d do to her.

A chuckle spilled from her lips as she wiped her face clean, she looked ridiculous, rubbing her hair dry as she reached for her clothes, pulling the soft fabric of her panties up her legs, upper body dressed in one of Sam's old shirts, big enough to swallow most of her frame. “You got this,” she mumbled, eyes dancing over her frame, maybe she’d finally be brave enough to ask for what her heart desired the most.

Her eyes found both boys, sprawled out on the two beds, naked chests exposed, only dressed in loose sweatpants. (Y/n) was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed in front of her chest. “So,” she mumbled, “What about my reward?” The boys found each other’s eyes, smirking at one another, “Mhm, anything special you have in mind?” Dean patted the spot next to him, hungry green eyes following her every move.

Sam turned towards the both of them, watching (y/n) settle down next to Dean, nails scratching along his thigh, “Sammy come over here.” (Y/n) smirked at Sam, waiting till the tall man stood in front of her. “I want you.” her eyes switched between the two brothers, thighs pressed together, her arousal began to dampen her panties, “I think you need to be a bit more specific baby.” Sam’s hoarse voice made her moan, long fingers dancing along her jaw, “Fuck me, please.” Another pathetic whimper left her.

Dean moved his hand up her spine, tugging on the roots of her (y/h/c) hair, shoving her down onto the bed, nodding at Sam, he’d let him have her first, would take care of her upper body for a while, while his length was throbbing in his sweats, aching to be released. Sam’s skilled fingers traced a few shapes into her thighs, snapping the strings of her panties against her skin, teasing another moan out of her.

Just as Sam tugged her panties down her legs, Dean had pulled the shirt off (y/n)s body, green eyes falling to her boobs, her nipples were hardening as the chilly air hit her skin.

Sam sunk to his knees, eyes not letting go of her core, admiring her wetness, fuck she would probably taste so sweet, he couldn’t wait to spread her walls with his member. “Sammy,” (y/n) squeaked his name, hands finding Dean's short hair, who currently had his lips wrapped around her right nipple, teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

Her mind was all over the place, not truly grasping the fact that both boys were currently having their way with her. Sam was an expert with his tongue, brushing through her slit, rolling her pulsing bundle of nerves around between his lips, fingers dipping into her heat, instantly finding her sweet spot. The boys had just started touching her and she was already dancing along the brink of her orgasm, not quite sure whose name she should moan.

“Stop,” (y/n) panted, eyes finding Sammy’s almost black ones, for a blink of a second an unsure look crossed his features, wondering if she wasn’t truly enjoying the little thing they currently had going. Dean let his eyes wander down her body, gazing at his older brother, waiting for (y/n) to keep on talking.

Her chest was heavily rising and falling. “I,” her head crashed back against the pillow, deeply inhaling, “I want to cum around you.” She didn’t want to waste any more time, wanted to finally wrap her walls around the boy’s members. Dean dipped his head down, he pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, “Onto all fours.”

Dean and Sammy switched places, both undressed themselves, as Dean combed through his wallet, looking for a condom, Sam placed himself in front of her. “Baby,” he breathed out, finding her twinkling eyes, urged on by the excitement that flooded through her, (y/n) stretched her neck, lips brushing against Sam’s, tasting her arousal on his tongue. Sam pumped his length a few times, waiting till Dean finally found what he had been searching for, rolling the sticky fabric down his member.

Just as Sam’s tip entered her mouth Dean’s length disappeared into her heat, hips moved against her behind, letting her clenching walls adjust to his size. (Y/n) hummed around Sam’s shaft, he was big, way too big to take all of him, but somehow she managed to slacken her jaw, comfortably breathing around him. She moved against the older brother’s lower abdomen with every expertly thrust of Dean, perfectly burying himself into her heat, no man had ever managed to make her feel like this.

“You’re taking us so well baby,” Sam combed his hand through her hair, praising her, eyes locked with her glassy ones. A few growls rumbled through him, she knew exactly what to do with her mouth, tongue dancing along his velvety skin, adding just the right amount of pressure, though he couldn’t wait to finally take her.

“Jesus, seeing you like that earlier,” sweat pooled on Dean's forehead, eyes focused on the back of her head, “Made me want to fuck you right there and then.” He kept on watching her bob her head, moaning around his brother's impressive size.

Sam hummed, mind wandering back to the way she looked on stage, barely dressed, eyes sparkling, as if she had known that the boys would end up between her thighs that night. “Bet you thought of us, didn’t you? Hoping we’ll touch you, fuck you like the good slut you are?” (Y/n) couldn’t control the sounds that left her, she was too far gone, ready to finally give into her orgasm, her clit was painfully throbbing, begging for its release.

She wrapped one hand around Sams shaft, pulling him out of her mouth with a wet “pop”, pressed her forehead against Sam’s abs, “Fuck I’m so close.” A satisfied moan rumbled through Dean, he had dreamt about making her cum for nights on end, imagining the sounds that would spill from her swollen lips, length coated with her arousal, what a sight.

Dean gave it one last thrust ere he pulled (y/n) down the edge with him, he pressed his lips against her spine, moaning against her skin, length twitching as he filled the condom with his release. She moaned for the brothers, eyes squeezed shut, still stroking Sam’s member with trembling hands. Even though her orgasm had just ripped through her, her walls were still clenching, waiting for Sam to finally take her, to have his way with her.

Sam slipped away from her, pressing a kiss to her scalp as he once again switched places with Dean, carefully flipping (y/n) onto her back. Her pupils were dilated, lips swollen, hair was sticking to her sweaty forehead. Dean fell down on the mattress next to her, hands wandering up and down her upper body, mesmerized by every inch of her. “Oh shit, don’t stop, don’t stop please,” his fingers danced along her sensitive clit, circling the bud, watching Sam spread her thighs, length effortlessly disappearing into her.

She was a mess, thrashing around on the mattress, her walls were painfully aching, Dean was big, there was no doubt to it, but Sam, fuck, she couldn’t take all of him, couldn’t imagine how he’d fit into her. “So perfect, like you were made for us,” Dean nibbled on her neck, still teasing her clit with two fingers, tightening the knot that began to form in her lower belly, once again. No words left her, legs wrapped around Sam’s waist, skin jiggling with every ferocious thrust of the tall Winchester brother, she was done for, completely done for.

Sam was too focused on the orgasm he was chasing, he didn’t notice her panting his name, didn’t notice how her release was just about to wash over her, pace not faltering once. (Y/n) squealed, eyes clenched shut, holding onto Dean's forearm, nails digging into his skin. “Let go,” he mumbled into her ear, eyes focused on her features, she looked so gorgeous as came. The fluttering of her walls seemed to rip Sam out of his trance, eyes finding hers, smirking to himself, making her cum was probably his new favorite thing.

He pulled out of her just in time, release dripping down onto her lower abdomen, milky substance twinkling on her skin. “Was that enough of a reward for you?” Dean chuckled at her drowsy state, she was fading quickly, ready to give into the exhaustion, falling asleep next to the two men she’d call hers, finally.

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togetherwearerapture · 3 years

Text

Boundary (Ethan x MC x Tobias?)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC (Elle Valentine) x (hints of) Tobias Carrick

Description: Tobias and Elle get to know each other while working on a case. Tobias pushes some boundaries.

Warnings: A few curse words, underlying health problems. Most characters belong to Pixelberry.

Word Count: 5.9k

Notes: Something a bit different, but I very much enjoyed writing this. There’s no overt Tobias x MC, so this is hopefully something Ethan stans can enjoy reading too. If PB won’t give me what I want, I guess write it myself lol

*********

It’s early Fall, yet despite this fact and the hospital’s ‘Bloom-and-improved’ ventilation systems, the diagnostics office feels uncomfortably hot. Elle feels a prickling heat across her back, one that she has become accustomed to of late. The façade she’s wearing is beginning to feel like an actual mask, all clinical-scented and restrictive and artificial.

And yet, this is not a mask she’s wearing on a crowded, sweltering T carriage. Her discomfort is unwarranted; there are, after all, only three of them in the room.

Oblivious, Ethan and Harper continue their conversation. She’s tuned out long ago, but she catches the premise- something that Dr Yannick once said at a conference in New York several years ago.

If she really tried, Elle knows she could search for a moment to join in the discussion. But if she’s being honest with herself, she’s tired of searching for sidegates to enter their house of conversation, instead of ever being invited through the front door.

She tries her hardest to appear relaxed, unbothered, indifferent. But her uneasiness spills into her mannerisms, like water through a cracked pot. Manicured nails drum erratically on the top of her thigh. Her top teeth tug, over and over again, at her lips. The apex of her stiletto heel taps the diagnostic office floor like a furious knife.

She likes and respects Harper very much, and her feelings for Ethan, both as a diagnostician and as her romantic partner are unfathomable. But as juvenile as it sounds, she’s so tired of being shut out.

A whooshing of the sliding doors breaks her out of her reverie, and she and the two other occupants of the room look up. Tobias Carrick strides in, all beams and bravado.

Her own notion takes her by surprise, but somehow, she thinks, his arrival is the breath of fresh air she so desperately needs.

“Goooood morning team!” he chimes brightly. Once again, his arms are laden with a trayful of drinks.

“Morning,” Elle offers him a warm smile, Harper echoing her words.

Ethan nods towards the drinks.

“Another round on you?”

“Sure is, but this isn’t just any old round, Ethan,” Tobias replies. “Now I’ve spent a week on the team, I take great pride in this being the first drinks order that’s just right, for all of you.”

Ethan quirks an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

Tobias grins, and plucks the first drink off the tray.

“Harper,” he presents her with an extravagant looking drink. “Chocolate frappucino. Double the sugar, double the caffeine. The Friday OR schedule is always jam packed, so I reckon you’ll need it.”

“You got that right, I’ve got two laminectomies today,” she sighs, although the passion for her job shines through her eyes. She takes a sip from her drink. “No complaints from me!”

“Excellent,” Tobias grins. “Ethan- a Vienna for you. Classic, refined, and,” he winks, “only a little pretentious.”

Ethan accepts the drink with a roll of his eyes, as Tobias moves around the desk to Elle.

“And now, for you Elle,” he hands her the third cup. “I must admit, for you I went out on a whim. I just hope my guess is a lucky one.”

Curiosity piqued, Elle presses the rim to her lips. She is aware of the eyes of both Tobias and Ethan following her action with interest. Mild, pleasant citrus swims onto her palate.

“Lemon balm?” she asks Tobias. He nods. “You going to elaborate?”

He shrugs.

“Well, I’ve noticed that I’ve never seen you with a coffee before 4pm, so I figured you like to limit caffeine earlier in the day. And I’ve seen you make up a couple of herbal teas before. I took a gamble and figured you’d like this one.”

“Impressive guess, Carrick,” Elle nods, amused. She takes a sip. “It’s good, thank you.”

“Those are some very…astute observations” says Ethan stiffly, as Tobias takes a seat beside Elle. “Maybe you can put your perceptiveness to better use for our next case.”

He slides three manila envelopes across the table, and the team begin to peruse.

“Jake Adams. 17-year-old male admitted last night, with multiple cardiac arrests,” Ethan begins. “He collapsed at school, was unresponsive, no signs of life, but luckily a fellow student was able to perform high-quality CPR until the paramedics arrived. Heart rhythm on their defibrillator was ventricular fibrillation, he was shocked, back to normal sinus rhythm. Between the scene, being loaded onto the stretcher, in the ambulance and arriving here, he arrested and was shocked again 5 more times.”

“Jesus, poor boy,” murmurs Elle, a crease forming between her brows.

“Cardiology have asked us if we can determine the cause of the arrest, which will of course determine the treatment,” Ethan explains.

“This case only came in last night and since he’s now on life support, we’re able to bypass Bloom’s absurd judicial performance and get straight into it,” Harper adds. “Actually, Ethan and I discussed it at length before you both arrived, and we have some solid ideas.”

Elle looks up from the file, quirking an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

“So I’m thinking Long QT syndrome, or maybe Brugada,” says Harper.

“They would definitely explain the spontaneous cardiac arrest,” Ethan adds, “Harper and I have ordered genetic testing for both on immediate family members already.”

“Any family history of sudden cardiac death?” Tobias asks.

“Not that we know of,” says Ethan. “But that wouldn’t rule it out.”

Elle frowns slightly as she browses the file. The tests ordered so far are scant, and in her mind, there are several pieces of the diagnostic puzzle missing. But this didn’t seem to stop Harper and Ethan steamrollering ahead, and seemingly settling on a diagnosis before the case had even been presented.

“Does Jake have a-”

“Do you remember that patient with Brugada syndrome who came in for a study a few years ago, Ethan?” Harper turns to Ethan suddenly.

“Ah yes, Paul?” Ethan chuckles, “he was quite a character.”

As Harper and Ethan drift off once again, Elle glances up to see Tobias looking at her quizzically. She lets out a heavy sigh.

Tobias clears his throat.

“Hate to interrupt your…uh…stroll down memory lane,” he begins. “But Elle was about to ask a question about the case, and you both spoke over her.”

The three other diagnosticians turn to Tobias, and a tense silence hangs in the air. After a beat, Harper speaks up.

“I’m sorry Elle,” she says, sincerely. “That was out of line, please continue.”

Tobias turns to Ethan expectantly, who meets Elle’s eye.

Something flickers across his face for a moment, a mixture of shame, guilt, embarrassment, perhaps? It’s a look that Elle can’t quite place. Then, his eyes skim to Tobias and he coughs awkwardly.

“Yes…thank you Tobias. We did speak over you, Elle, I apologise. What were you saying?”

“I was asking if he had a 15-Lead ECG.”

“Not yet,” Harper replies.

“Then until he has one, I don’t think you can consider Brugada syndrome,” says Elle. “We’d need to do an ajmaline challenge too. I can see from the echocardiogram reports in here that he has a structurally normal heart, so we can definitely exclude congenital heart disease as the cause. But for me personally,” she gestures to the file, “there’s a lot missing in here. About what actually happened.”

“How do you mean?” Ethan asks.

“About the context of the cardiac arrest. All we know is that he was at school, but what was he doing? Was he doing anything strenuous, did it happen at rest? There’s a lot more I’d like to know.”

The rest of the team nod thoughtfully.

“I agree…if it happened during exertion, there’s a few other things we could rule out,” says Tobias.

“Exactly,” says Elle. “I think we should consider catecholaminergic polymorphic ventricular tachycardia.”

“You’re thinking CPVT?” asks Ethan, interested. “It’s a possibility.”

“Yes, and it’s one I’d like to investigate more by visiting the school, and finding out more about what happened” says Elle.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Harper responds, twirling her fountain pen between her fingers. “But unfortunately, I won’t be able to join you on your expedition. Like Tobias said, I’ve got a full day in the OR.”

The rest of the team turn to Ethan, who hesitates.

“I…have a meeting with Naveen and the board until lunch,” he says. “Which-”

“-means it’s just you and me, Valentine!” exclaims Tobias, clapping his hands together. “Oh boy, I’ve been looking forward to my first house call with the diagnostics team. We’re going to be on some scooby doo shit, Elle!”

“I beg your pardon?” says Ethan, scowling. Elle can’t help but burst out laughing.

“That settles it then, me and Elle will go to the school,” says Tobias, standing up from his chair. At the same time, Harper gets a page that her surgery is starting and bids them a hurried farewell.

“I was going to say, which means the three of us can go this afternoon once I’m finished,” Ethan says stiffly, as Harper heads out. Tobias shoots him a bemused look.

“I’d rather not wait,” says Elle flatly.

Ethan has wasted enough time in their meetings by bringing up pointless anecdotes with Harper, and she’s very keen to revert her focus to the patients, to diagnostics- the things she loves.

“Me and Valentine will be just fine, E. After all, I’m sure what happened with Jake is still pretty raw to the kids and staff, we’ll need to handle it delicately. Two’s company, three’s a crowd, right?” Tobias flashes Elle a smile.

The same look as before flashes across Ethan’s face, although this time, Elle thinks, it has less of the awkwardness and embarrassment and more of the…something else. His bright blue eyes seem to narrow a fraction, as he looks between Tobias and the woman of his affections.

“Alright,” he sighs finally. “We’ll reconvene when you’re back.”

“Let’s get this show on the road!” says Tobias happily. “To the mystery machine!”

He crosses the room to retrieve his car keys from his bag, while Ethan turns to Elle, and this time, the look of concern is undeniable.

“If you need anything,” he closes some of the distance between them and lowers his voice just a little, “just call me.”

“I think we can handle it,” says Elle, not unkindly. “Enjoy your meeting. And tell Naveen I said hello.”

And with that, she and Tobias leave the office.

********

A short while later, Elle and Tobias are riding in his blue Mercedes S-Class on the way to Jake’s school, a short drive away in South Quincy.

“Not exactly the mystery machine, huh?” says Elle, glancing around at the plush interior.

Tobias shrugs.

“The same colour, at least.”

Boston blurs by as Tobias pulls into a main road, and Elle turns to look at him. His side profile is unmistakably handsome. He drives one handed, the other resting on his thigh.

“So, how’s June?”

He gives a wry half smile, and glances at her.

“Is that your way of asking if we’re still sleeping together?”

“No!” says Elle, honestly. “I’m just wondering how she’s fitting in at Mass Ken. I mean, she left Edenbrook when she thought the ship was going to sink. I got the impression she was pretty keen to be working on your team, now I can’t help but think now you’ve come here, Aurora too…don’t you think she’s been left kinda high and dry?”

“In all honesty, I haven’t seen her for a while, and don’t expect to again anytime soon,” Tobias admits. “But trust me, Hirata will be just fine. She’s head of the team there now.”

Elle raises her eyebrows, impressed.

“I’d say she moves fast, but actually, that doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.”

“She was pissed as hell when I said I was leaving, don’t get me wrong,” says Tobias. “But she’s the strongest diagnostician on that team, and the strongest player too.”

“Player?”

“She knows how to play the game. She’ll have no trouble asserting herself as the new leader, running the show the way she wants to.”

Elle thinks back to her time working with June. The way she changed her personality to gain patients’ trust…and Elle’s. Distant anger simmers at the back of her mind, as she remembers how June stole her employee file.

“I agree…office politics was always child’s play for June.”

“Speaking of,” says Tobias as they stop at a red light. He turns to look at her. “The meeting this morning seemed very…uh…political.”

Elle pauses as feels the uncomfortable tingling rise in her chest. She could ask “what are you talking about?”, but she knows exactly what he’s talking about. And there’s something about Carrick that makes her want to cut the crap, to be upfront. So she is.

“You mean Harper and Ethan…”

“Yeah, that. Whatever the hell that was.”

Elle is silent.

“Does that…happen a lot?”

“More often than I’d like.”

“Well, good job I’m here then,” he grins.

Elle’s head whips around.

“Excuse me?”

“C’mon, you can’t tell me you didn’t appreciate the out.”

She rounds on him.

“Ok, let’s make one thing clear, I don’t need you to fight my battles” says Elle angrily. “Since Harper joined, every time the two of them have gone off track, I’ve steered them back on. I’m here for the patient, to solve the case, and nothing is going to detract my focus from that. That’s the way it’s going to stay, with or without your “outs”, Tobias.”

Tobias chuckles.

“You’re feisty Elle, I like it.” His eyes sweep over her from head to toe, which makes Elle feel more angry, but also, inexplicably, makes her stomach flutter a little.

“What I mean is,” Tobias speaks more seriously; sensing her anger, but mercifully oblivious to the other sensation, “I hope you know you’ve got someone else in your corner Elle. I know how much you care about your patients, and I know Bloom’s going to make life for the team difficult, and try and undermine our every move. That’s not helped when it feels like you’re not listened to by the actual people in it. You’re an excellent doctor Elle, and I value your input. The others should too.”

Elle is dumbstruck. She still doesn’t know what to make of Tobias Carrick; she had picked up pieces and hints from the scattered stories she’d heard from Ethan, most recently in their walk through the rose garden. But while considering the perspective and feelings of the man she so deeply cares for, she acknowledges it is biased. Elle knows that she has good reason to be wary of Tobias; it was not just Ethan he had toyed with, after all- Aurora had been burned by him too.

But, Tobias had helped to save her life. And the genuine smile that he gave her through the contamination screens of that cursed room, on the worst day of her life, had always stayed with her.

So, with a pinch of salt ready between her fingers, Elle decided from the moment he joined the team, that she would form her own opinion of him.

It occurs to her then, just how much Ethan sees the world in black and white. But Tobias Carrick is very much a shade of grey.

Before she can respond to him, the GPS on Tobias’ dash declares that they are arriving at their destination, and sure enough, Elle sees the school up ahead on the right.

“Here we are,” murmurs Tobias as he pulls in through the school gates. “Looks like we’re expected.”

They park up and head over to the school steps, surrounded by blossom trees, where a middle aged woman offers them a watery smile and extends a hand.

“Ah, hello…the doctors from Edenbrook, I presume?” she asks. “I’m Helena Brady, the principal of Greenview High.”

“Yes, we spoke earlier on the phone,” says Elle. “I’m Dr Eleanor Valentine, and this is Dr Tobias Carrick. We’re here to speak to the people that were with Jake when he collapsed?”

“I’m afraid it’s just the one person,” says Helena gravely, leading them through the school. “His friend Charlie was the only one who saw it, and then ran for help. How is Jake doing?”

“He’s still in a coma, but stable,” says Tobias. “The most important thing for us to help him, is find out from Charlie some more about the collapse, and go from there.”

Helena nods, as they come to a stop outside a small office.

“We’ve all been praying for him, it’s so tragically sad…nothing like this has ever happened to a student before,” she sniffs stoically. “Thank you for your work doctors, but please, be gentle with the boy. He’s still very shaken.”

Elle smiles at her reassuringly.

“We will be, don’t worry.”

As Tobias and Elle knock and enter the room, the boy springs to his feet, eyes wild.

“You’re the doctors…how’s Jake, is he-oh god is he-is he dead?” he cries.

“No, Jake is ok. He’s been through a lot, but he’s recovering,” says Elle gently. Charlie sinks back into his chair, though his knees are still quaking.

“It’s Charlie right?” Tobias asks, pulling up a chair. “I’m Tobias and this is Elle. We’re Jake’s doctors. Do you know why we’re here today?”

“Y-yes, that’s me,” Charlie sniffs. “Principal Brady said you were here to talk to me about Jake…I was so scared, I thought, I thought that meant he had died.”

Elle kneels in front of him, laying a gentle hand on his knee.

“I’m really sorry that us coming made you think that, Charlie,” she says. “It must have been really tough watching Jake collapse like that, I’m not surprised you’re thinking the worst. But we think we can help Jake get better, we just need your help.”

Some of the tension seems to leave Charlie’s body upon hearing this; his shudders subside. He pulls anxiously at the strings of his hoodie, unruly teenage bangs falling over his forehead.

“So, Charlie,” Tobias asks as Elle pulls up a chair beside him, “do you think you could tell us a bit more about what Jake was doing when you saw him collapse? Had he been running, exercising, working out?”

“No,” Charlie says quietly. “He wasn’t doing anything like that.”

“That’s really helpful Charlie, thank you,” says Elle. “Can you tell us if he standing up or sitting down? Did he lose his balance or seem dizzy? Did he complain of feeling ill, or funny in any sort of way before it happened?”

Charlie stiffens.

“No. He was-we were-we were arguing.”

Tobias and Elle exchange a quick look.

“Is Jake your friend, Charlie?” Tobias asks.

“No! No he’s not, and I’m so sick of pretending he is!” Charlie shouts. “Jake’s my boyfriend!” Tears begin to roll down his cheeks.

“Oh Charlie, I’m so sorry,” says Elle. “You said you were pretending…does anyone else know that?”

Charlie shakes his head.

“No. That’s what we were arguing about,” he accepts a tissue that Elle offers, blowing his nose.

“Take your time, Charlie,” says Tobias, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. “It’s ok.”

After a few deep breaths, Charlie steels himself.

“We’ve been dating for three years, kind of in secret, kind of not,” he explains. “My parents know I’m gay, and they’re fine with it. They’ve met Jake before and they love him, they know we’re together. But he’s not even out to his parents, they just think we’re friends.”

He sniffs.

“Now we’re in senior year, we’re both looking at colleges, and we want to go to different ones. We’d be living five hours apart. I don’t know if we can make the long-distance work, especially if his parents don’t know about us. In the times we’d both be back home, they wouldn’t understand why he’d want to spend a lot of that time with me. But the one thing I just really, really wanted, was for us to go to senior prom together. As a couple, you know? To just dress up together, get photos together, dance together, one last time before we leave.”

“And Jake…wasn’t on board with that?” asks Elle.

“He was,” says Charlie. “He said he really wanted to. He just…wasn’t on board with the part of that which meant he’d have to come out to his parents.”

“I see,” says Tobias.

Charlie’s eyes begin to fill with tears again.

“I was saying, before he collapsed, that he didn’t love me,” he cries. “That he must not love me if he’s not prepared to come out. He was getting so upset, begging me, telling me of course he loved me, he was just scared, and then-” he sobs. “Then he was on the floor.”

Elle kneels beside him again, taking both his hands in her own.

“I’ve been googling stuff that could have caused it,” Charlie sniffles. “I saw there’s this condition, some long one beginning with, a C, I think, that means people’s hearts can give out when they’re stressed.”

Tobias raises an eyebrow, somewhat impressed at the boy’s diagnostic skills.

“What if-what if I could’ve killed him, because of the argument? And I told him he must not love me, I didn’t even mean it, I know how hard it is to come out, I didn’t mean to-” he buries his head in his hands.

“Charlie- Charlie listen to me,” says Elle. “It’s true, that we think Jake might have a condition called CPVT. It means that certain situations, like exercise, or stress, can cause the heart to go into an abnormal rhythm. But that does not mean, whatsoever, that any of this is your fault. We all say things we don’t mean in the heat of the moment, when we’re angry. If Jake does have this condition, and we’ll have to run a couple more tests to know that for sure, then it means that we can treat it, and stop it from happening again. It could have happened to him at anytime, anywhere, but he was lucky enough to be with you. You’ve helped him have a lucky escape.”

“R-really?” asks Charlie.

“Really,” says Tobias, who is on his feet. He lays a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Your principal was telling us earlier that you did CPR on Jake while you got others to run for help?”

“Yes,” Charlie mutters, looking up at Tobias.

“Well Charlie, I think you saved his life.”

Charlie’s eyes gleam with hope.

“What are you applying for at college?” Tobias asks.

“Um..cardiac nursing,” he says.

“Very fitting. You’ll always be welcome at Edenbrook for some work experience.” Tobias smiles, genuinely. It’s the same smile Elle remembers from after the attack.

“Do you think, then, that he’ll be ok?” Charlie asks tentatively.

“Yes, I do,” smiles Elle. “And I think that you and Jake will be ok too.”

****************

Some time later, Elle steps out of the school. After speaking at length with the school counsellor, she had made sure that Charlie had some extensive therapy sessions in place. Tobias is waiting for her at the foot of the steps, beneath the blossom trees, and she is surprised to see he has a cigarette in hand.

“You smoke?” she raises an eyebrow at him as she approaches. “I thought you’d know better, Tobias.”

He takes a drag.

“Vices, Valentine,” he quips. “We all have them.”

Elle vaguely remembers Ethan had once said the same thing about butter.

“Carcinogens, though. Really?”

Tobias chuckles.

“I’m dirty, what can I say?”

He dutifully puts out the cigarette, as Elle gives him a reproachful look, and turns to her.

“You were good in there, with him,” says Tobias.

“Thanks…so were you.”

“We make a good team,” he smiles, and his expression softens a little. “That was kinda heavy though. You bearing up ok?” he asks.

Elle nods.

“I’m fine. I just hope Charlie will be ok, I really want to make sure he starts therapy as soon as possible. I know how much of a difference it made for me, after the attack.”

She trails off, and Tobias seems to sense the darkness clouding over her eyes. The mild September breeze sifts through the blossom trees above them with a gentle sigh.

“I don’t think I ever actually said this to you,” says Elle quietly, “but thank you. For helping to save me and Raf, that day.”

“No thanks needed,” he responds. “I wanted to do everything I could to help.”

He pauses only briefly before continuing.

“You know, out of everything that happened that day, all the work we did in the lab trying to find an antidote…the one thing I remember most is how Ethan was in that room. In all the years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him like that before. About anyone, or anything.”

A sudden chill trickles down her neck, goosebumps erupt on her forearms; a million tiny foothills.

Since their conversation in the car after Danny and Bobby’s funeral, Ethan had never really spoken in depth about his own feelings during the attack. Sometimes, in early hours when they laid in bed together, with the rain hammering against his window, she would mention it.

And every time, she would see his eyes darken with so many unsaid words. He would fix his gaze desperately on her like she was evaporating steam, set to vanish from existence in a matter of moments. His hold on her waist would tighten, fingertips tracing her soft skin as if to remind himself she wasn’t a ghost.

There had been whispers in his bed in the stillness of the night, when they were both half asleep. He had uttered sleepy confessions and declarations to her; some so heartfelt and moving, she still questioned whether they were real or if she had dreamt them.

More often straight after the attack, but still now sometimes, she would wake in his arms to find him already looking at her, his eyes filled with wonder, pain, and something else that she was starting to place.

‘Why are you awake?’ she would gently murmur.

‘I couldn’t sleep. I-had a nightmare.’

She would press herself closer to his chest, feel his strong arms encircling her as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

‘I’m here, Ethan.’

‘I know. I’m…so glad you are.’

She is jolted to the present with Tobias’ voice.

“Even if he didn’t show it this morning…Ethan’s got it bad for you, you know.”

Elle cranes her neck to look up at him- at the man who shares so much history with Ethan. He’s almost as tall as her lover, but slightly less built, shoulders not quite as broad. Alike in many ways, but different in so many others.

“Why are you here, Tobias?” she asks, without breaking eye contact. “You had it all at Mass Kenmore. You’re an excellent diagnostician, you could have gone anywhere. Why, of all people, would you want to come and work for Ethan, someone you have such a complicated past with?”

Tobias’ hazel eyes, a contrast to Ethan’s azure blue’s, look into hers deeply. She knows that there’s something hiding beneath their golden depths; either earnestness, an ulterior motive, or perhaps something more complicated- a mixture of both.

He takes a step towards her, raising his hand towards her face. Her breath hitches, then climaxes in a soft exhale, when he simply removes a lone blossom petal that has settled on the lapel of her white coat. She wonders what exactly she had been expecting him to do.

Tobias twists his tongue between his teeth, a half-smile playing on his lips. Once again, his eyes roam over her from head to toe. This close, Elle can smell his cologne. It’s good; notes of leather and pine and exotism drift to her olfactory nerve. It’s a contrast to her favourite aftershave of Ethan’s, which smelled like bergamot, cedar, and home.

Tobias drops the petal to the floor, his eyes never leaving hers.

“I’m here Elle,” he murmurs, “because I want to push boundaries.”

********************

Ethan leans against his desk, fingertips drumming impatiently. His meeting had been finished for a while now, but he was still waiting for Elle and Tobias to return.

His old rival’s keenness to go on an outreach call with Elle had stirred something within him. Something in his head had switched on. A distant alarm bell that had been silent for some time, had started to ring.

Lost in thought, he mulls over the events of the morning.

He’d done it again.

He, and Harper, had spoken over Elle when she was trying to talk about the patient. Not only that, he recognises now, but before Tobias had entered the room, the two of them had been reminiscing about something that didn’t involve Elle in the slightest.

He doesn’t know why he keeps slipping up. He harbours no romantic feelings for Harper whatsoever, but he’s been enjoying the chance to work more closely with her, the friendly conversations, to share stories and experiences.

But they haven’t just been work related, he thinks. Did I really need to bring up the flamenco lessons? Or Gaston’s? He recalls the look on her face when he’d told Elle he planned to take her there because of its intimacy, immediately after discussing it with Harper. Before Elle’s forced smile and her gracious reply of “I’d like that,” he’d always thought he had caught a flicker of dismay, of hurt, on her features.

Now he’s certain it was more than a flicker.

I don’t deserve her, he thought.

With a swoosh, the doors of the diagnostics office open. He sees the familiar head of immaculately coiffed blonde locks, and as his eyes travel down to Elle’s beautiful face, his heart soars, and he can’t help but break into a wide smile.

“Elle!” he says happily, pushing himself up of the desk.

I missed you, he foolishly finds himself wanting to say, despite the fact that like most days at work, it’s only been a few hours since he’s seen her. But as his eyes travel to Tobias following her in, he keeps the admission to himself.

“We have an answer,” says Elle triumphantly. “We’ve listed Jake for an ICD insertion tomorrow morning.”

“It was CPVT?” Ethan asks.

“Yep,” says Tobias. “Elle’s hunch was right. Turns out it was an argument with his boyfriend that brought on the cardiac arrest. We ran a test for CPVT as soon as we got back, while you were still in the meeting, and it’s positive.”

Elle smiles brightly.

“Jake’s going to be okay.”

Ethan beams. He’s exceptionally proud of her.

“Excellent work Elle,” he leans forward to squeeze her arm, as bold a gesture as he dares while they have company. “And thanks Tobias, for helping out.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” says Tobias. He looks pointedly at Elle, then adds, “believe me.”

An unpleasant sensation coils in the pit of Ethan’s stomach. He tries to push it down.

As Tobias crosses the room to take a phone call, he steps closer to Elle, lowering his voice.

“Listen Elle, about earlier. I’m sorry,” he says sincerely, tentatively taking her hand in his own. He caresses her tiny fingers with his thumb. “It’s unacceptable for me to talk over you in meetings, and I…know that this isn’t the first time it’s happened, and that there are, uh, other things. I’m sorry if my actions have ever made you feel excluded.”

Elle’s bright green eyes look into his thoughtfully, though she says nothing; silently willing him to continue.

“I’d like to make it up to you. I think a date night between us is long overdue. Can I take you for dinner tonight?” he asks. A flash of hope, along with the tinge of dismay he remembers from before, travels across her face. “Not Gaston’s,” he adds quickly. “I want to find somewhere new with you. For us.”

Her face floods with warmth, eyes gazing into his searchingly. He desperately scans her beautiful face, seeking some inkling of her true feelings; the ones he knows she’s bottling up.

“You’re right, it is long overdue,” she says finally, her gaze steady. “And I’d really like that, to find somewhere new to go to dinner with you. But I can’t do tonight.”

His heart sinks a little, and as if sensing this, like she always seems to, she squeezes his hand reassuringly.

“I’m out for drinks with Si, Aurora and Jackie tonight. But we’ll go soon.”

She offers him a soft smile, which he returns.

It doesn’t quite quell the slight but unmistakable feeling of anxiety in his stomach. It’s guilt, it’s the gnawing thought that he will never be good enough for her, the idea that he’s taken her for granted.

Worst of all, there is the completely irrational, but terrible notion that he could lose her.

And somehow, the thought that he could lose her in living rather than in death, as he had once feared, is almost more terrible.

She gently lets go of his hand. On the other side of the room, Tobias hangs up the phone.

“I’m going to go and speak to Jake’s parents,” says Elle, slipping off and readjusting her white coat.

Ethan’s eyes travel over her form-fitting pencil skirt, clinging to her delicate body in all the right places.

He doesn’t miss the way Tobias’ do the same. Then, as if knowing he’s being watched, he looks up at Ethan. His eyes narrow, and the corners of his lips twitch.

Ethan wants nothing more than to sock him in the jaw.

“We’ll check in later, once Harper’s finished surgery?” she asks, breaking the two men out of their reverie.

Ethan nods, and Elle bids them goodbye. The click of her heels on the linoleum echoes into the tense silence. Then, he can’t hold it in any longer.

“Could you be,” Ethan begins through gritted teeth, “a little more fucking subtle, Carrick?”

Tobias chuckles.

“I can’t help it, Ethan, and clearly neither can you. A woman like that, body like that…we’re just as powerless as any other red-blooded male.”

Ethan curls his fists in the pockets of his coat.

“Don’t talk about Elle like that. I won’t have you disrespecting her in that way,” he spits, taking a step towards him.

“You want to talk about disrespecting her?” counters Tobias, unflinching. “Because I think taking a stroll down memory lane with your ex, every five minutes, is pretty disrespectful to the woman you’re currently fucking.”

Ethan is stunned. Had she told Tobias that it had happened before? Did she tell him they were seeing eachother, or had Tobias clocked it himself? What exactly had they talked about while they were away?

“Elle is- she’s off limits,” he snaps, the only response his seething mind is able to come up with.

Tobias smiles, satisfied at seeing the other man riled up. Then, infuriatingly, he turns away.

“Who decided that, Ethan?” he says quietly over his shoulder “Her or you?”

And with that, Tobias turns and leaves.

*******

Author’s Note: Thanks for reading this far! I wanted to explore the dynamic between Elle and Tobias, and the way I wrote him in this fic reflects my own thoughts about him; I think he’s a good guy, as demonstrated by him helping to save her life and his thoughtfulness, but I’m definitely suspicious of his ulterior motives and his past actions. I also wanted the sexual tension between Ethan, Elle and Tobias, and was hoping that PB would make Tobias call out Ethan shutting her out of meetings. They didn’t deliver so I did it myself lol Also wanted Ethan to start feeling insecure about the way he’s been treating Elle since his behaviour has been trash thanks to the OOC writing, but I still love him

#ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #tobias carrick #ethan ramsey #tobias carrick x mc #open heart #choices open heart #open heart 3

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junicai · 4 years

Text

Learn the Alphabet with Aria + Friends ;

273,175 views • 15 Mar 2021 • uploaded by [haechanieski]

A is for: “Adios”

Filming a JCC episode was always something Aria looked forward to - either because she got to watch it later and laugh, or she was a guest star herself. Johnny had taken it upon himself to uphold the communication part of his series name, and asked Aria to teach Czennie some Irish while she was around.

“And how do you say goodbye?”

“Adios!” Aria spoke with full confidence, a beaming smile directed to the camera.

Johnny behind her snorted. “Adios?”

Aria blinked, before spluttering. “Oh no not adios that’s the wrong - that’s not Irish.”

“Isn’t that Spanish?”

“...yeah.”

B is for: “Baby~”

Aria was leant forward her knees, eyes fixated on the laptop in front of her that was playing the 90s Love music video. It was the first time she had seen it edited and polished, and she was anxiously anticipating her own scenes.

An Aria appeared on the screen, running her tongue over her top teeth before scrunching her nose and giving the camera a wink. She spun on her heel, tossing a jacket over her shoulder and tilted her head so her sultry smirk was visible to the camera.

The boys around her clamored loudly, and Aria cringed away from the video - right into Ten’s awaiting embrace who clasped her head in his grip and stopped her from turning her head away from the laptop.

“Baby~” Ten sang, curling his arms around Aria. “My baby is all grown up~”

Aria whined, thrashing weakly in Ten’s grip in an attempt to shake the boy off. “Nooo.”

“My baby~”

C is for: “Chewing Gum”

“Yes! It’s been a long time since we performed our debut song.” Aria took over from Chenle who had been speaking into the phone cradled in his hands. The voice-only vlive had been unplanned, and neither idol had been willing to put their messy bedheads on video for their fans to immortalize on twitter.

Chenle snickered. “Noona is just thankful that she gets to wear things other than pajamas on stage now,” He teased, jostling the phone as he leant over to poke her.

“That’s not true! Bubblegum will always have a special place in my heart.” Aria defended herself, crossing her arms in front of her stomach to protect it.

Chenle retracted his hand to stare up at Aria with a disbelieving face. She looked back at him, as the boy burst into laughter.

“Bubblegum?”

“Chewing gum! I said chewing gum. You misheard me.”

“Bubblegum-” Chenle was wheezing, hand gripping Aria’s arm tightly.

“I’m a foreigner! I have an accent!”

“Noona, that’s in English?!”

D is for: “Deicide”

“Jaemin! Leave me alon- ow.” Aria’s attempts to fight off a cuddly boy proved ineffective, the boy in question succeeding in drawing the squirming girl onto his lap and securing her in position with his arms around her waist.

Aria let out a long-suffering sigh, closing her eyes in resignation.

“Okay, yes, okay. Fine. I’m done you win.”

Jaemin smiled, satisfied, and tucked his head into the crook of Aria’s neck, humming to himself. His content mood was quickly yanked away from him however, as Aria leant down to whisper in his ear.

“Jaeminne. If you don’t let me go to finish doing my hair, I’m going to remind you of the fact that I have zero qualms with deicide, and you have yet to reach god-like standards.”

Paling slightly, he retracted his hands and Aria pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before hopping off his thigh.

E is for: “Eomma”

Aria squealed as she was tackled down, hitting the ground with a thunk as Jaehyun leapt for her from across the room. “No no no I’m sorry I take it back I take it back-”

Jaehyun was grinning down at her as he slid his hands up her sides and began to tickle her, pinning down her flailing arms as she tried to hit him. “Oh yeah? You’re sorry now?”

“Yes! Yes I’m sorry I promise - you’re not - I didn’t mean it -” Aria struggled to get the words out, unable to catch her breath.

“Eomma!” She cried out, face red and hurting with how much she was laughing. “Help mee~”

F is for: “Fudge”

Stumbling around the dorm in the dark was never a good idea, but it was late and the other members besides herself and Donghyuck were already asleep. Aria hadn’t wanted to disturb them, so the only lighting the pair had was the fading light from their phone flashlights.

“I can’t see it, but I know I put it down here somewhere? Do you think it’s behind the tab- FU-dge. I like fudge, do you like fudge?” Aria leant over the table to rest her arm on Donghyuck’s shoulder, peering at him curiously.

Her eyes were pinched with pain, and she was hopping slightly.

“Did you stub your toe on the table?”

“Psh, no! This is a serious question Hyuck. Fudge preferences are serious business.”

G is for: “Gorgeous”

“Oh! Gorgeous dahling. Positively stunning.” Aria spoke in a pompous voice, face pulled down with pinched lips and squinted eyes and obnoxiously raised eyebrows. She fluttered her hand around in an aggressively dramatic hand gesture, before spinning on her heel to flounce out of the room.

Mark and Taeyong exchanged a wide eyed glance. Clearly the ‘Greek God’ inspired video had gone more to her head than they had previously anticipated.

H is for: *intense heavy breathing*

Jungwoo took one look at Aria lying on the practice room floor, and immediately proceeded to flop down - belly first - onto the unsuspecting girl. Aria let out an oof, choking slightly at the sudden weight on her chest.

“Jung-w-oo,” She coughed out, slapping weakly at the weight of the older boy.

He only hummed in response, not moving from his position, despite the fact that Aria’s zip on her hoodie was digging into his cheek. He swung his arms up to cover her shoulders, and soon he was lying completely on top of her, obscuring the smaller girl from view.

All was quiet for a moment, before Aria broke the silence with exaggerated, heavy breathing, panting for air. Her eyes widened comically, and she was smiling despite the fact that Jungwoo was actually crushing her lungs slightly.

Still, no attempt was made to get off her, and she slowly resigned herself to her fate.

I is for: “I surrender”

The camera was set up a safe distance away, so that when the bag of flour fell to the ground and poofed up in the inevitable cloud of white dust - the piece of equipment was unharmed. Because of this, it was given a perfect view of the sequence of events that immediately followed:

Aria, grip-less in her socked feet stepped backwards out of the flour coating the floor, misjudged the circumference of the circular cloud that had by then settled, and promptly slipped over, clattering to the ground with a thud and disappearing behind the counter with a half-formed yelp.

The screen was empty for a moment, still, before a hand shot up from behind the counter, coated in the white flour.

“I surrender,” Aria waved her hand back and forth like a flag, commiserating with the now ruined flour lining the tiled floor.

J is for: “Jesus Christ”

The walls were lined with fake and real cobwebs alike, barely visible in the complete lack of light offered from the red blinking lights of the cameras that recorded each NCT 127 member as they crawled their way tentatively through the haunted house’s hallways.

Aria shuffled past old beams that looked far too close to collapse for comfort, sneezing after her nose was ticked by a hanging vine that she hadn’t seen before it was already brushing her nose as she scooted past.

The hallways were quiet, only the sound of her own breathing audible to her heightened senses. That was, until a hand shot out from behind a load-bearing beam, gnarled nails reaching to grab at her skin.

She jumped back, letting out a vocal-chord ripping shriek. “Jesus Christ!”

K is for: *Kiss*

“So, Aria is not a lover of skinship?” The question was posed to Taeyong, the leader having been given the choice to choose his member’s punishment after losing the game they had been playing.

Taeyong let out a short chuckle, seeing where the interviewer was going with their question. “No, no she’s not. Only if we initiate it - and she’ll normally kick us off pretty quickly.”

Aria was shaking her head, making slicing motions in front of her neck to signal Taeyong to stop, no, please anything but that, stop it-

Taeyong paid no mind to her, and soon Aria was settled on a stool in the centre of the studio floor, knees tucked into her chest as Jaemin, Ten, Doyoung and Taeil - the members of her losing team - all gathered around her in a circle.

One by one, they all pressed a single kiss to her cheek, Aria cringing away from Ten’s hold when he went to press another peck to her forehead, and Doyoung coming behind her to hold her still.

When the four boys retreated, Aria was red in the face, the blush adorning her cheeks visible despite the foundation.

L is for: “You don’t love me”

“Hyuck, I have to go.”

“Noooo.” The boy whined from his position sprawled over the mattress, legs spread and hands clutching onto Aria’s wrist to prevent her from leaving. “Stay. M’comfy.”

Aria sighed, tugging at her wrist futilely. “Hyuck, I’m literally going to the bathroom. I’ll be five minutes - less if you let me go now.”

Donghyuck only whined louder, tightening his grip. “No!”

Tossing her head back to the ceiling, Aria yanked her hand out of his grip, plugging her ears against the screech of protest that left Donghyuck’s mouth.

“NO! Come back!”

When Aria made no motion to return, having exited through the doorway hastily, he threw himself back onto the bed. “You don’t love me anymore!”

Her response echoed down the hallway, punctuated by the slamming of the bathroom door. “I do! You’re just a big baby and I needed to go!”

M is for: *Mine*

Aria slid beneath the reaching arm of their maknae, patting him on the side to make him edge a little to the left as she too reached for one of the cookies that were set up on the small snack table.

The white chocolate chips were tempting her, and after staring at the still-full plate for twenty minutes, there was only so much she could do in terms of self restraint.

Scurrying back to her original seat, she settled back in comfortably, bringing the cookie up to her mouth and nibbling at the crunchy edge of the treat.

N is for: “Neo”

“Nono?” Aria bent her neck down to peer at the boy who had entered through the door, dropped his bag, slid off his shoes and then promptly snuggled himself into Aria’s side without so much as a hello.

Jeno nodded in acknowledgement, but made no attempt to explain his curious behaviour.

“Dude,” Aria sighed, hand already moving to run through his hair despite her long-suffering eyeroll, “You’re not being very neo right now.”

O is for: “Ow”

Sitting beside Mark in any context was never a good idea when one wasn’t wearing sleeves or long trousers. He was a very, volatile, laugher, and once he got going it was impossible to stop.

Unfortunately for Aria, her short dress afforded her neither of the aforementioned luxuries, and so she was sure that by the end of the day she was going to be covered in black and purpling bruises from Mark’s non-malicious attacks.

The movie on the screen flickered to a new scene, one that sent Mark into another burst of raucous laughter. His hand raised, and clapped down on Aria’s arm, again, and again, and again.

“Ow, ow, ow ow ow ow, Mark!”

P is for: “Potato juice”

Lucas held up his glass to the camera, grinning as he said, “Apple juice!”

Taeyong bit back a smile as Jungwoo fit himself into the frame, holding his own glass and affirming Lucas’ statement. “Apple juice!”

The camera was spun around, focusing briefly on the apostles of darkness who held up their own glasses of apple juice, before it panned down the row to where Aria was sitting, cradling a glass of clear liquid in her hands that she was taking small sips from.

Taking notice of the camera focusing on her, she took another sip of her glass before holding it up in a cheers. “Potato juice!” She cheered, bringing it back to her lips and paying no mind to the startled cough Doyoung let out, choking on his own apple juice.

Doyoung spun to the camera, gently pulling the glass from Aria’s grasp. “Water. It’s water.” His tone dropped a few decibels, “Did Jaehyun give you this? I’ll kill him.”

Q is for: “Quickly”

“Quickly! Hurry up!” Renjun yelled, rushing over to help Aria into the inflatable costume to begin her run.

“Yah, Renjun! I’m not on your team stop yelling at me!” Aria retorted, pushing his fumbling hands away and pulling up the straps onto her shoulders.

R is for: “Ruff”

The door swung open with a quiet creak, Donghyuck only hearing it when the handle made contact with the wall behind it. He spun around in his chair, eyebrow lifting at the sight of Aria partially in through the doorway. “Hey?”

“Ruff.” Aria blinked at him, unmoving.

“Uh, ruff?” Donghyuck responded in kind, his eyebrows now knitting together in confusion.

Nodding satisfactorily, Aria exited the room with a wave. “Mark! I told you I could get him to bark on live.”

S is for: “Saranghae”

It was a group-wide agreement that in 127, the title for cutest either went to one of the maknaes, or their oldest hyung. Apparently that agreement also spread over stan-twitter, because suddenly Taeil and Aria were being pitted against each other in an aeygo-off. Fan edits and polls were made, and TaeilvsAria was trending on Twitter for nearly a week.

Eager to encourage the trend, it was all too easy for the staff to set the pair up in front of a camera and press record.

Two minutes in, and neither member had broken, both maintaining their stoic faces - although Aria’s lip was slightly red from being bitten, having resorted to pinching the skin between her lips to prevent a smile from breaking out on her face when Taeil had tucked his hands underneath his chin and pouted.

She inhaled, thinking hard on how to end the competition swiftly, exhaling with a small smile as she settled on her next plan of attack.

Spinning around, Aria set her gaze on Taeil, letting her eyes widen and her lips fall into a natural pout.

“Oppa~” She wheedled, moving to clasp his hand in hers. “Saranghae~”

Taeil’s face crumpled, and he closed his eyes in defeat as he dragged Aria into his embrace. “Cheater.”

T is for: “Tough biscuits”

“But what if I don’t want to?” Yangyang argued, pointing at Aria.

“Then, tough biscuits.” Aria stuck out her tongue in retaliation, stealing the game controller from his hands and flicking the game to Minecraft. “I suck at those shooty-games, let me have this.”

U is for: “Unnie”

With her mask pulled up over her nose and lips, Aria was pretty confident that she wasn’t going to be recognized by a member of the public as she strolled down the street towards the coffee shop that had recently opened its doors a few streets over.

She was humming happily, but jolted as she felt an arm snake itself around her waist. Immediately on high-alert, she went to push the unknown person away, before catching a glimpse of their face.

“Unnie!” Aria’s entire demeanor changed, face breaking out into a bright smile beneath the black facemask.

Irene smiled back at her, squeezing her waist lightly. “Hey, angel! How’re you?”

V is for: “Very untrue”

“And Aria normally naps during this time anyway, so we should be happy she’s awake for this.” Jaemin informed the few thousand czennie watching the vlive, phone tucked in between two chairs in the greenroom.

Aria’s mouth dropped open at the obvious betrayal. “Hey! Very untrue! False information! You liar, I do not.”

Jaemin snickered, leaning into the phone. “You can see the marks on her cheek from the arm of the chair too, right czennie?”

The dancer leant over and thumped him on the back of his head for that.

W is for: “Wait wait wait-”

Aria was sprinting down the hallway, phone clutched to her chest and panting. Yuta followed in quick pursuit, rapidly gaining thanks to longer legs and shoes that offered more grip than the tenuous grip offered by Aria’s slippers.

“Wait wait wait, Yuta, no I don’t want to die!” She breathed, pumping her legs faster in an attempt to flee from almost certain death. Perhaps, taking candid photos of the man while he was unconsciously snuggled up to Mark’s side as he slept was, in hindsight, not the best idea.

Yuta was rapidly gaining on her, despite her best efforts.

“Please don’t kill me!”

X is for: “Xièxiè”

Accepting the glass from Kun’s hand, Aria smiled up at the man. “Xièxiè.”

Kun, who was already moving away and back into the kitchen responded in kind, before flinging himself into another bout of conversation; but this time, with a language switch.

Being so used to the constant flip-flopping between languages in the WAYV dorms, he thought nothing of it, but after asking a question and receiving no response, he peered back into the main living area to see Aria sitting there with a puzzled expression on her face.

“Uh, Xièxiè?”

Y is for: “Yessir”

Taeyong explained what it is Aria had to complete for her mission, handing her a small slip of paper that she was to hide from the other team before they came into the makeshift base that had been constructed a few minutes prior.

Aria nodded, completely serious. “Yes sir.”

He waved her away, happy that she understood the level of importance that he had just entrusted her with, and Aria happily departed from the conversation -

By the means of vaulting a table and scrambling over a chair before exiting the door.

Taeyong blinked. And then shrugged, turning his attention elsewhere.

Z is for: *Zzzz*

Snuggled up beneath a blanket is exactly where Aria wanted to be at that very moment - not sitting in the back of a van, squished between Johnny and Yuta. The two men were broad-shoulders, and that left Aria to be batted between the two like a ping-pong ball.

Despite the abrasions to her temple however, Aria found herself slowly drifting off - the lengthy schedules and lack of sleep finally catching up on her.

Her head dropped to the side, first falling forward before it was gently maneuvered onto Yuta’s shoulder, where he tucked her closer and into his side.

Letting out a pleased hum, Aria snuggled closer into his warm coat, sighing softly as she drifted to sleep.

thank you for watching ! - haechanieski

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vintagedolan · 4 years

Text

I don’t even know what to call this lmao, but here’s your continuation of this blurb based on the gif above :)

warning: smut :’)

“Shoes on or off?”

“On,” you hummed, curious to see how it would play out with you in heels. If Grayson swallowing hard enough for you to see it was any indication, it was probably the right decision, and once again, you felt the warmth of confidence spread through you again. It was reassuring in a way, to know that you had the same effect that he so obviously had on you.

He kept walking you backwards until your calves hit the bed. Usually, this would be the point where you fell back onto the mattress, and Grayson fell on top of you. But, he made a spur of the moment decision and pulled you forward to kiss you hard, keeping you standing there in your heels for a moment longer.

“I have an idea.”

“I’m listening,” you mumbled, already a bit breathless just from anticipation alone.

“You wanna feel sexy right?”

It seemed almost childish for him to say it so outright, but there was nothing childish about the way his thumb was brushing across your lace covered boob, tickling over your nipple that was just barely hidden away.

“Yes.”

“Well. When do you feel sexiest?”

“Gray.”

“I’m serious, I wanna know!” He took in your blush and your hesitation with a soft smile. “Here, I’ll start. But let me do something really quick.”

You frowned a bit at the loss of contact when he stepped away, but it was only to turn the lights off and turn the LEDs under his bed on - a new addition to the bedroom that he was rather proud of. And it was no surprise that he left them on red - it made the dark green of the wall wash black, along with the lace and straps against your skin. He came back over to you, devilishly close, and placed a hand on your waist as his fingers traced over the silky strap of your garter belt. It was a delicate thing - one of his fingertips was wider than it was - but he didn’t show any sign of wanting to take it off of you. His eyes just traveled over you, every curve shown off in the red lights as he spoke.

“I feel sexiest when...” He traced his hand up, over your side and back up to your boob, with just enough contact for your body to shudder. “...when I make your body react like that. Or when you say my name when you cum. Just...you. Getting you worked up, it makes me feel good, like I’m doing something right.”

If his words weren’t so filthy that they went straight to your panties, they may have actually been sweet. But he knew exactly what he was doing, from the tenor of his voice to the way his hands have traveled from the belt down to your ass, hands spreading wide over the flesh. It had your entire body buzzing already, and it didn’t help matters that he leaned in and nipped at your ear, breath hot against your neck.

“What about you, hmmm? What does it for you baby, tell me.”

As if it wasn’t hard enough to get your answer together, he pressed kisses down your shoulder and back up to your neck as he waited for you to find your words.

“When you cum fast. Or when I can tell you’re trying not to, but you want to.”

“You make my job very hard,” he hummed, unable to stop himself from interrupting. Every word you were saying went straight to his dick, and it took all his self control to stay still. You were in the same boat when he leaned back up and you looked down, saw the ridges of his abs contrasted in the red, saw the way he was tenting his boxers.

“And when you can’t keep your hands off me, no matter where we are.”

At that he groaned low in his chest, thumbs tracing over the vertical straps that sat snug over your ass cheeks, up and down. If he moved any further forward he’d realize you were practically dripping for him already, and you bit your lip at the thought. Sure, you and Grayson always had your fair share of foreplay, but this? This was something else.

“What else, tell me.” If you could have seen his eyes in the lighting, his pupils would have been blown wide open.

“When you talk to me, tell me how I make you feel. Lets me know when I’m doing a good job.” That one, for some reason, made you blush the hardest. Maybe because of the cheeky smile that stretched across his lips.

“You always do a good job baby. Trust me on that one,” he teased, finally kissing you again, apparently satisfied with your answers. You couldn’t decide where to put your hands, so you settled for his sides, running your nails over his ribcage gently as he held your face with both his hands, pressing you to him as his tongue overtook yours.

You’d heard Grayson Dolan say a lot of dirty things in the bedroom. But god, were you woefully unprepared for what he said when he pulled his lips back from yours.

“Make me cum. I want you to see how fast you can make me cum.”

If you weren’t holding onto him, you probably would have fallen over. Never, not once, had he asked you for something like this. Usually the roles were entirely reversed, and it lit a fire in you that you didn’t know you had the embers for.

With a sudden burst of confidence you spun the two of you around, pushing on his chest until he fell back against the mattress, the way you usually did. Now, you could understand why he always paused for a moment, why he looked you over so heavily when he had you like this. He looked blissful, beautiful, godly laid out there before you, even when he bridged his hips up to free himself of his boxers.

There was no time for teasing, not when he’d asked you so outright for what he wanted, and what you wanted. So, you immediately crawled up to him, getting your waist level with his before you swung a leg over. It took a moment of maneuvering but you did your best to make it quick, lifting up enough to get his dick lined up and your panties pushed far enough to the side to accommodate him.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth as soon as your hand wrapped around him, and there was something deliciously dirty about the fact that the first thing that felt how wet you were was the head of his dick.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck,” he groaned as you started to sink down onto him. You didn’t bother with trying to get to your feet - the heels probably would have made it impossible anyways. You knew he liked having you pressed up against him in any way that he could, especially like this. So you stayed down, knees digging into the mattress as you braced your hands on his chest for a moment, sinking down until you could feel his balls against your ass.

And then, you were moving. Grinding, bouncing, figure 8′s above him as you tried to get him to the edge as fast as you could, watching his face as you moved, the way his eyes would scrunch up for a moment before his mouth fell open and his whole torso arched and squirmed under your hands.

“Jesus you’re gonna make me cum, fuck baby, fuck yeah,” he could barely get enough breath in to speak, his hands uselessly grabbing at your moving hips, garters tickling against his forearms as his fingers found the flesh between the belt and your thong.

To your surprise, your rapid pace was doing the trick for you too, though that was your last priority. It might have had more to do with the fact that your boyfriend was a mumbling mess below you after about 30 seconds, but either way, you felt that tightening in your tummy, the moment of numbness that you knew would break into something overwhelming

“Don’t stop, please fuck don’t stop,” he whined, urging you forward as you folded forward against him, let him wrap his arms around you as you bounced on him, slick sounds and heavy breathing filling the room until he was squeezing you, so tight it almost hurt, the same way your walls were squeezing him. And that was his downfall - a minute in and he was undone, shooting inside of you like it was the last thing he’d ever do.

You came down together, with you sliding up just far enough to kiss him, breathy and messy as you tried to recover, a thin sheen of sweat covering both of you.

“Holy shit. What was that, like a minute?”

“I’d say 45 seconds... 50 if I’m being generous,” you teased, smiling at the feeling of his chest moving as he laughed.

“Whatever, I don’t give a fuck if you’ll ride me like that every time,” he said, shaking his head up at the ceiling.

“You didn’t tear any fabric, I’m proud of you,” you giggled.

“Couldn’t. Want you to wear this thing every fuckin’ day.”

“Doubtful, I don’t have enough time to get in and out of this shit. Actually, I don’t even know how to get outta this thing,” you admitted with a laugh.

“Let’s go get cleaned up, I’ll help.”

You were right back to your casual selves as soon as he sat you down on your feet in the bathroom, both working in tandem and laughing as the other struggled to loosen the straps and finally get you out of the contraption. The heels were the best part, with you bracing against his shoulder while he fiddled with the tiny straps.

And when you were freshly showered and clad in one of his big t-shirts, it was obvious that he’d softened up just as much as you had, especially with the blue lights illuminating the room.

“You know, you’re just as sexy like this,” he hummed, rolling over to get closer you, pulling you against him before sneaking a hand under your shirt to cup one of your boobs.

“Right,” you laughed, shaking your head.

“i’m serious. I’ve got a thing for you in my shirts.”

“I wear your shirts all the time,” you countered.

“And?”

You just rolled your eyes and blushed, making a bit of a mental note to raid his wardrobe even more often than you already did.

“Thank you, for tonight.”

“I think I should be thanking you, but you’re welcome baby,” he smiled at you, moving his hand from your shirt to run along your cheek. You replayed the night in your head while you looked at him.

“What?”

“50 seconds huh. Is it like that every time? Like obviously you don’t actually cum that quick every time, but like... could you?”

Now, it was his turn to get embarrassed. He rolled over, practically on top of you as he buried his face in your neck.

“Maybe,” he muttered, making you laugh as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Bubs, really?”

“Like I said, you don’t make my job very easy.”

#whew lord #so anyways uh... here's this #*runs away*#g:blurb #blurb #grayson dolan #grayson dolan smut #grayson dolan fanfiction

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