#I’m not a fancy party person but he makes me feel that way… | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nichuuu · 5 months

Text

Lemon.

Word count: 13k+

You decide that you don’t quite like Balls (get your head out of the gutter).

Music: odd. Yes, it’s a fancy mansion—5 floors, the works… But you don’t know how to feel about the sole pianist in the centre of the foyer, the one that’s playing some classical piece that has the people around you murmuring about his technique and sound (whatever the hell either of those meant).

People: you don’t know a good half of them. Scratch that—it’s a sea of strangers

Drinks: strong, way too fucking strong for your liking. The drinks are free of charge, and the bartender clearly didn’t shake this Pina Colada well, but you have to drink it if you want to even try and get into the mood of the party. Around you, men in posh suits and women in flamboyant dresses skirt each other, talk to each other with placid smiles—hoodwinking each other with their highfalutin laughs and smiles to establish connections that probably won’t matter in a couple of days. The only person you’ve talked to tonight is the bartender, and that was just to order your drink.

This whole place stinks of capitalism, and you feel out of place in your cheaper suit and dress shoes. On your right, some guy is talking about how bitcoin and blockchain will make a grand return, some lady is gossiping about the latest Gucci handbag on your left. In front of you, a man and a woman are clearly flirting with each other, bashful grins on their faces as they hold their fancy drinks in their hands and talk about god knows what. You’re wondering if you should ask for a straw from the bartender just to dip your toes in social interaction.

Wonder why Cinderella was so hot on attending a Ball, thing seems pretty bland to me, you’re thinking, watching the tip of the ice that was shaped like an iceberg melt away and sink beneath the surface of your margarita. Some guy in a tux comes by, orders two glasses of Prosecco—one for him, one for the woman next to him. He’s talking loudly, disrupting your peace and quiet. Your solution: move seats.

From a distance—two chairs away from your original seat—you watch as he takes the two glasses from the hands of the bartender, hands one to the woman, then clinks his glass with hers. He’s preternaturally genteel, and you’d know because you recognised him as the guy that got slapped at the start of this whole thing because he grabbed the ass of someone’s wife. Impropriety, but it’s the behaviour of the newfangled rich.

Now he’s bragging about his car. Nissan GTR fitted with this engine, this ventilation, blah, blah… Whatever it is he’s saying, the woman’s having none of it. You’re no psychologist, but you can tell that she wants to get out of a conversation; her smile is awfully sweet, but you can see that she’s silently importuring him to shut his trap—her eyes give it all away. You pity her, silently sending her your best wishes as the man grabs her by the arm and leads her back into the sea of people. Personally, you’d be screaming if you were in her shoes.

(Off to your left, just at the edge of your vision, you see your boss talking to a woman. She’s getting touchy, really touchy and really flirty; her hand’s on his thigh, fuck me eyes out to play and on full display—A trite tactic used by these types of women to get lucky with a rich man at these type of events. Luckily for her, your boss is quick to bite on to such bait. God bless them both.)

For the record: you’ve never really enjoyed Balls or anything of the ilk, because quite frankly speaking, you’d much rather burrow up in your bed at home and binge Kimini ni Todoke till you were giggling and squealing like a little schoolgirl. Maybe I’m still young, I’ll learn to like these types of events later on, you tell yourself, I’ll need connections at some point, maybe I should start—

A sickly sweet fragrance crawls up your nostrils, truncating all thought. Perfume, you’re quick to identify, and then you’re aware of the presence of someone on your right. Your grip on your glass grows tighter in the slightest; you’re praying—Please just be ordering a drink, please be ordering a drink.

Frankly, you don’t know why you’d ever think anyone would talk to you, an unimportant cog that just tagged along with his boss because he had nothing better to do. Irrational fears are really a funny thing.

Sharp, clear, resonant—three words that came to mind when you heard the voice of the person next to you, the voice that delivered the simplest of orders: Yamazaki. I want it neat.

Your first thought is, Damn… Neat Whisky? Someone’s having a horrible night, as you turn your face away from her (if you couldn’t see her, she wouldn’t be able to see you, right?). And just as you’re wondering if she’s gonna take her drink and leave, your question is answered by the soft creak and even softer rustle of shifting fabric from your right. You bristle.

The glass makes a sound against the wood as it’s gently placed down on the table.

(Now would be an excellent time for a subtitle to come in, one that states in square brackets: Awkward silence.)

You can hear her swirling the liquid around in her glass. Fuck, now this is awkward… You’re thinking, and then you’re wondering if you should just get up and leave, absquatulate, skedaddle—any word that can convey the act of disappearing in an instant—right out of there. But as you start to slide your butt off the chair, that voice rings out once more.

“Not much of a talker, are you?”

She doesn’t know how her simple sentence has caged you in the most challenging position (to you at least). Now you’re sliding your ass back into the bar stool and you turn and face her—

(Now that you’re looking at her, your second thought about her comes in: God, she’s beautiful. Dark brown hair that falls just past her shoulders like velvet curtains, soft yet somehow piercing eyes, a smile that makes you feel fuzzy all over—probably one of the most attractive women you’ll ever meet. She’s the woman from earlier, the woman that you saw smiling and nodding placidly to that guy who got her the Prosecco. She must’ve found a way to slip away, and she has your full respect for that.)

—and you find that you’re drumming your nails against the base of your glass.

“Shy, huh?” she’s throwing out a guess, watching as the Whisky in her glass slowly swirls to a stop inside the chilled glass. “It’s been a while since I met a shy man. You’re a breath of fresh air.”

You shift in the stool, and your first instinct is to ask her if you two had met before. It’s only after that last syllable leaves your mouth that you realise how stupid of a question it is. You don’t know her, and judging by the fact that she hasn’t called you by your name: she doesn’t know you either. You let her decide whether to oust you as a fool as she scans you up and down.

(Update on your boss and that woman: She’s kissing him now, full on making out. It’s an unsettling sight to behold, and you attribute your queasiness to the fact that they’ve somehow found they’re way behind the woman you're talking to. Your boss doesn't see you; you choose not to see him. God bless them both.)

“Well… Considering that you don’t look the least bit familiar,” she sets the glass down, “and that you haven’t been introduced to me like some product by a crusty, old man… I think it’s safe to say that we’re.”

Now her eyes are on your drink. What are you drinking this fine night? She’s asking, using her chin to gesture towards your Pina Colada. You tell her exactly what it is, and she cringes slightly. They say Pineapple doesn’t belong on pizza, I say it doesn’t belong fucking anywhere. Oust it as a fruit! she’s telling you, making sure to add a little more emphasis on the word “oust” as she couches her firm belief, something you find rather hilarious considering that it’s your first meeting with her. She sips the Whisky, grimaces a bit, then sets the glass back down to say, we skipped past a lot of formalities, didn’t we?

And here comes the part of talking to strangers that you’re the most comfortable with—Introductions. You think that it is safe to assume that just about anyone would find saying hello and telling someone your occupation much easier than holding up a conversation, what more with a beautiful woman like her. You give her your name, tell her what you do for a living, the usual stuff. She listens, the gleam in her eyes that comes when you’re done talking ever so enigmatic and cryptic.

“Lawyer huh?” She’s playing with her glass again, “considering were we are right now, I really shouldn’t be this surprised… Yet I am. Little shy for a guy dealing clients on the daily, no?”

Somehow, by the grace of some supernatural force (you call it alcohol), you crack your first joke of the night—I know. The most I ever talked is in court—and you’re relieved that she’s kind enough to humour you (or maybe she really does find it funny. You’ll never know), and gives you an elegant chortle, one that makes your hair stand at their ends as your third thought about her goes through your mind: even her laugh is attractive. Is there anything wrong with this woman?

And when she tells you her name, you realise why she seems to be exuding this inexplicable aura; Minatozaki Sana, pleasure to meet you, she introduces herself with a generous amount of pizzaz. You’re scanning her up and down at this point, and only now do you take in the expensive dress that dons her slender frame, the same dress that’s accompanied by a glimmering necklace and earrings, 3 rings on her middle, index and ring finger respectively.

“You’re…” you begin.

“The host’s daughter? Yes.”

Now you’re at a loss for words. Well uh… It’s an honour to meet you, is what you plan on saying, but it comes out as a simple, more blunt manner: Oh damn. Sana’s giggling to herself, swirling her Whisky as she watches you struggle to find things to say to her.

“I take it that you don’t come around here often?” she asks. When you raise an eyebrow, she explains how her father hosts a Ball like this every other month to try and find her a “suitor”. Apparently, 27 years old is “too old” to still be single, so my Dad just gets a bunch of men together and parades me around, she’s carping. The glimmering chandeliers, the array of drinks and food, the vanity of all these people; the dazzling marble floor, the glass sculptures, the embroidered tablecloths; this event, in all its glory and prestige, is all about her.

Christ, you’re thinking to yourself, money really gets you to places, huh?

Now she’s explaining how some of the people here are frequent visitors. Mothers and their sons, fathers and their sons, young business men, old business men, middle aged businessman; whoever can afford to come to this lavish Ball—all of them frequent this mansion like moths to a flame, all looking for a chance to ingratiate with the Minatozakis so that maybe, just maybe, they get a chance to get Sana’s hand in marriage. It’s a glorified yet obsolete form of Tinder really.

(Your boss is nowhere in sight now, and you’re pretty sure that the two of them have gone off somewhere to get it on. Maybe this event isn’t just about Sana, it’s about finding a rich person that can spoil you for the rest of your life too. God bless everyone here.)

“So what brings a man like yourself here this fine night?” She seems oddly interested in you (and also very hot on using this fine night as well apparently). You give her the truth that carries your watered down emotions in your tone—My boss asked me to tag along. Apparently all attendees were to bring a male plus one.

Sana chuckles, but it’s one of bitterness.

“So Dad’s reverted to these tactics huh?” you hear her whisper before taking an alarming large gulp of Whisky. She swallows, then sighs, “wonder what he’ll do next… Maybe an arranged marriage?”

Past the frustration and utter disappointment, there’s amusement in her voice. It tells you: if I could, I’d kill my Dad. It’s more of an inference from your end than a message that you’re sure that she’s trying to imply. You always had a bad habit of reading between the lines—probably picked it up from your job.

Sana downs the rest of the Whisky in a flash, wincing as the alcohol burns her throat. She scratches her nose, then turns to you and asks, “say, you don’t look like you want to be here, and neither do I.”

Behind you, you can hear the voice of a man approaching. He’s talking to someone—my daughter should like you very much, you seem like a man that suits her taste—and Sana bristles. Her father, you deduce, noting the way that the woman before you is searching around for an exit. Then you blink, and in that split second, she grabs your hand.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Just like that, you’re running through a crowd of people, spewing a million-and-one apologies as you jostle your way through the crowd, in tow behind a woman you've known for a grand total of 5 minutes.

A very unlikely start to a romance really.

Now the gears in your head are whirring, your stomach’s churning—there’s no other way to describe how you feel when Sana’s looking at you like that from across the table: small smile, a slight gleam behind those eyes, hand under her chin and fingers tapping against her cheek… She’s got you in perdition just with a look. You’re a guy of relatively taciturn nature, and the last time you went on a date was in university. That date went horribly, and now you’re wondering if this one was gonna go up in flames as well. Your brain urges you to say something to her, but your mouth seems to be sewn shut.

On the other hand, Sana’s poised as ever. “What’s wrong?” she’s cocking her head and pouting slightly, “nervous?”

You're not ashamed to admit that you indeed are, and that you’ve never really gone out on dates in a long time. Sana seems tickled by this—It’s been a while since I’ve seen a shy man. I like it, she tells you—and assures you that she won’t bite. In fact, she’s glad that you’re quiet and not rambling off about some business venture. She tells you, I don’t recall the last time I’ve been with a guy like you, though I’d appreciate it if you assist me in starting some conversation, and you’re slightly ashamed of your reticence.

There’s a gleam in her eyes when you start asking her some questions on her personal life, and she finds it congenial to gesticulate in a moderate manner as she answers your questions. Her outgoing nature leaves you flummoxed, and there’s barely enough space in your brain to remember everything she tells you about herself. Born in Osaka, likes yoghurt smoothies, likes to take walks in the park, likes this, likes that… You vaguely remember her telling you this on the night that the two of you escaped that event.

(To jog your own memory: She took you to the garden, where the two of you spent the rest of the night strolling amongst shrubs and other greenery that thrived in Spring. The Pina Colada in your system allowed you to hold a conversation, one that lasted long enough for her to take a liking to you. At the end of it all, she gets your number, you get her’s, and a date’s been settled in some french restaurant she patronises.)

“Now, I don’t expect you to remember all of this,” she’s watching the wine leave streaks against the glass, “but if you do, I believe you're entitled to some extra points.”

“Points?” you’re keen on inquiring, “we’re keeping a scoreboard?”

Sana simply smiles. For asking that question, minus 2 from you, is her answer—not a very good one if you were to be blunt. You can’t suppress a chuckle as you take a sip from your own wine.

Unwittingly, Sana has eased you into her presence. It suddenly feels like you’ve known her forever (if forever meant 2 weeks that is).

A smooth start to a relationship if you do say so yourself.

“Sana, there’s people out there.”

“I know.”

“They might hear us.”

“I know.”

“We could get caught.”

“We won’t.”

It’s the confidence in her voice that irks you really. The lack of hesitance combined with the sheer lack of shame towards the fact that anyone outside the changing room in this damn Prada store could easily raise a phone over the door and start recording. It’s not that she’s not cognizant of this, but more of the fact that she doesn’t give two shits if someone captures a video of her blowing you in this dressing room. Shameless, aplomb, obstinate, are the three words that come to mind when dealing with Sana at the given moment, but there’s no energy in you to convey this to her, not when she wraps her lips around your cock. The outfits that she chose remain untouched behind her, fabrics still in light while the person that chose them remains active on her knees.

(Almost a year. Almost a year the two of you have been dating. You thought you’d learned all there is to know about her, yet she’s hitting you with new facts and surprises every day, left, right, and centre. There are probably many more things that you have yet to figure out, but they’ll all come to light in due time.)

Really, it’s on you for not exercising due diligence upon entering the store; you should’ve known better from the moment you saw that look in her eyes while she was looking at a dress. But there’s nothing you can do about it now, not when she’s already enraptured you with that damn gaze—the one that exudes want and lust, the one that’s the leaven to your morality in her eyes. She knows that she’s got you wrapped around her finger when your hand rests itself atop of her head as she slowly bobs her head over your crotch. She’s taking her time despite the situation that she’s placed the both of you in.

“This has always been on my bucket list,” she’s letting her hand run along your shaft, spreading her saliva with each stroke of her palm. Her nails, freshly done just over 2 hours ago, glisten under the light—partially because of her spit and partly because of the gloss. “Everything about this is just so… Eroctic, isn’t it?”

Christ, she’s really into this thrill-seeking thing, you note as you choke out a reply: Not particularly, but whatever floats your boat Sana (obviously, it doesn’t come out as smooth as it should. No one would be able to get out a full sentence with phonics properly strung together if they too were getting blown in a changing room). She’s got a glint in her eye, but it’s covered by your shaft as she slides her tongue down your cock, nose brushing against the base of your cock, just behind her tongue. She knows what she’s doing, she’s given you head before; she’s building up the suspense and waiting for you to beg for more. You really don’t want to indulge her, you really don’t, but there’s not much you can do when she starts placing kisses on your shaft—base to tip in a fervently slow fashion. How far is she gonna go with this, you can’t help but wonder, but you quickly have your question answered in the next second or so.

“Unenthusiastic?” she quips, “minus four”.

She wraps her lips around you and pushes her head forward, and you almost let the people in the store know that something’s going down in here.

You figure that the feeling of her lips wrapped around your shaft will never get old, not when it sends electricity up your spine and makes your hand ball into a fist in her hair. Her eyes seem to glint as you let out a sharp gasp. Yes, you could be caught by an employee at any second. Yes, you could very well be caught on camera by a customer at any second. There were a lot of things to consider when assessing the dangers of the circumstances that Sana has put the both of you in. Yet, none of them take anything away from the pleasure she’s bringing you, not as she starts to bob her head in beat to the metronome in her head. There’s no point in trying to figure out her pace.

“Jesus… Fuck… Sana I…” Your voice is—somehow—hushed as you struggle to convey how weak she’s making you, but it’s not like you need to anyway—she knows exactly what she’s doing, and she’s loving every second of the havoc she’s wreacking upon your senses. The slight tug in the corner of her lips is the suggestion of a smirk, and the muffled noise that rises from her throat is the implication of a giggle.

There's a knock on the door and you bristle; Sana slows down, but she doesn’t stop. Past the door, the voice of the staff that led you to this very room asks if everything is alright in there, and you’re praying that her eyes aren’t set on the floor. Sana locks eyes with you, then darts her eyes to the door to tell you—Answer it goddamnit. Of course, she doesn’t make it easy for you as you open your mouth, applying light suction to your tip as you find the strength to say: Yep, just give us a few more minutes please, making you choke on that last word and sending alarms blaring in your head. Thankfully, the store assistant is kind enough to leave you with a take your time sir, and the shadow of her feet disappear from the gap beneath the door. It’s then that Sana pops your glistening cock out of her mouth.

“A few more minutes, huh?” She’s got drool on the corner of her lips as she rises to her feet. “Better make this quick then. You gotta keep your word as a lawyer, don’t you?”

Her wit is certainly better than most of your colleagues.

(There are customers outside now, you can hear them talking to the store assistant. They sound vaguely familiar… Maybe you heard them at the restaurant? Or maybe they’re colleagues… No, that can’t be it, at least you hope so).

Now for the record: you’ve seen Sana naked on multiple occasions, be it voluntarily or not. The shower, the bedroom, even a public shower at the pool… You could name a lot more places where she’d shamelessly flaunted her nude body before you off the top of your head. “A body to die for” is a fitting expression for Sana; you’ve always wondered if you’d find her on the top of the Google image search if you were to look up “dream bodies”, and you figure that you can probably get her there if you could somehow take pictures with your eyes as she undresses before you. She’s more methodical than anything, straying away from her usual teasing nature for the sake of being quick (that’s what you infer from her behaviour, but really, she could just be extremely horny and desperate. There’s never a solid answer to Sana’s behaviour). Mini skirt, then top, then bra; she’s going through the motions that she’d usually drag out just to get a reaction out of you preternaturally quickly.

Why is she getting naked in a changing room? You have no clue. Your best guess: she’s doing it for the thrill of it. The thought of getting caught completely nude with her boyfriend speared inside of her must be sending lethal doses of adrenaline through her veins. A pretty solid guess if you do say so yourself. No time for anymore guesses anyway—she’s already brought your hand up to her right breast, and she’s closing her eyes to enjoy the feel of your fingers closing around the semi-firm flesh. Her top lip’s furling behind her front teeth, she’s letting her other hand rest on your arm. She’s telling you where she wants it—did you cum in my ass yesterday? Or was it the day before? Ah, whatever… Give me a fucking creampie—in this soft, low voice that sends a velvet chill down your spine. Then she's kissing you softly, sweetly, nibbling on your top lip as usual, all while pushing you to the corner of the room where your feet aren't visible to those outside, flushing your back against the wall. It’s an uncomfortable fit, but that quickly changes when she grips the middle of your shaft and lines you tip up with her slit. The hand on her tit is guided to that slim waist, your other hand quickly finding its place on that symmetrical, slim figure.

“I don’t care if I cum or not,” she drawls, trailing a finger down your chest, “I just want your load inside me, right here, right now. Just focus on that, nothing else.”

(Half request, half demand—give her an award for being so damn ambiguous. Subtitles that could translate what she truly means would be really, really handy right now. Alas, such a system doesn’t exist.)

Describing how Sana’s pussy felt would be doing her injustice. The feeling was ineffable. From entering her to hilting yourself inside of her, there was never a second of that process where you had an easy time breathing or thinking. You’ve never been so reliant on your senses to keep you grounded in reality, nor have you ever been so glad that Sana’s nails are digging into your shoulder. This position—facing each other, standing and fucking against the wall of (all places) a changing room—is a stranger to the both of you, but the sheer tightness of her cunt working hand in hand with the intimacy of it all has you welcoming it with open arms.

Your hips are moving on their own, taking liberties without signals from your fried brain as you start thrusting into Sana. For long, wordless minutes, you're thrusting into Sana in a mindless, slow fashion, relishing the feel of her skin in your palms, the look on her face, the soft moans that are slowly slipping from her ever so slightly opened lips. Then your ability to think slowly returns, and you’re thinking like a damn neanderthal—tight, wet, hot, so fucking good—as your grip on her waist tightens. Your shaft glistens in the light of the changing room, slick with her sweet juices as it slips in and out of her slick, spearing into her with depth, making her legs weak. Sana cups your cheek, lifts your head, and it’s now that you see how her eyes have been completely glazed over with lust and want. Her face, her figure down to the sounds she’s making; everything about her, about this, is the phantasmagoria of a wet dream.

If you were being completely true to yourself right now: You couldn’t care less if you got caught.

And as if on cue, the voices approach as soon as you finish that train of thought.

“Do you provide altercation services?” It’s the voice of a man, closely followed by that of the store assistant: Of course sir. After you try on the suit, you can note how you’d like it to be altered to your liking.

A shadow of feet appears at the base of the door. Sana cups a hand over her mouth as the door rattles—the customer trying to open it. You stop your movements, breath caught in your throat as the store assistant tells him to use the other fitting room. Sana’s breath is loud in your ears as a second set of footsteps approach, followed by a female voice that asks, “Is my husband in there?”

Yes ma’am, is the assistant’s reply. Of course, this is hardly the end of it.

Now, as the woman engages the store assistant in conversation right outside your door, Sana lets the hand on her mouth drop. She flushes herself against you as the store assistant answers, and she whispers, “Keep going”.

Endlessly seeking thrill. Classic Sana.

The logical part of you warns you against doing as she says. Sadly, there’s not much room for logic in your head in the given circumstances, not when your balls-deep inside your girlfriend in a changing room. There’s barely enough room for dilemma to occur; Sana’s the sole occupant of your mind, rent-free, free-hold, and really: she’s the only thing that matters right now.

She almost, just almost, lets out a cry when you spear yourself back inside her. You didn't expect to start so soon, and neither did she. However, catching her by surprise is a novelty to you, and you relish in that brief rush of smugness before you restart your movements. Her mouth is frozen in a silent scream, but her eyes say all that she wants to: smug asshole, I’ll kill you later. You reply by letting your index and forefinger slip into her still-open mouth.

“Personally, I enjoy the Italian selection more…” The store assistant’s voice is barely audible to you over Sana’s small, muffled moans that manage to skirt your fingers and Sana’s closed lips, and as the lady starts talking about trench coats, Sana coats your fingers with a fresh layer of saliva, turning your fingers slick and slimy with her tongue as she looks you dead in the eye, as if challenging you: Is this the best you can do? Is this the riskiest you can be?

Every question from her deserves an answer, and your’s is to remove your saliva-slicked fingers out of her mouth, draw a circle with her spit just above her collarbone, then whisper right into her ear: I’m gonna mark you right there. The involuntary gasp that she lets out tugs the corner of your lips up into a perverse smile. Slowly your lips drift down to the glistening spot, and you wait just a moment to build up that sweet-sweet suspense. It’s a split second, but it’s a second too much for her to bear—the way her body tenses when you finally make contact is the clearest indication you will ever receive. And when you start sucking, God does she almost drive you over the edge: she tightens, she gasps, she starts twitching; she loves it, every second your lips stay locked around that sweet spot of skin is bliss to her.

You can hear the door to the other fitting room unlock, and you hear the man’s heavy footsteps as he walks out, no doubt in that suit he had earlier. The compulsory question comes: how do I look?

There’s a brief moment of silence, and you’re almost fearful of the fact that maybe, just maybe, their ears are picking up on the ragged breathing and slightly audible squelching coming from the other fitting room. All consternation dissipates when the woman starts to comment on how she looks, but Sana seems to have an answer to his question as well: So good. So fucking good. Harder, let me feel all of you, fuck me harder. Oh fuck, you’re so fucking deep.

You look dashing honey. The pitch of the woman’s reply harmonises with Sana’s soft whine as your lips leave her skin, the same patch where you’ve left your purple artwork on. I think we can afford to alter the pants—

Sana crushes your lips against hers, hot breath filling your mouth as you feel her lift her leg. You hold the back of her knee (like the gentleman you are), bring it to your side, hold it there. She bites your lower lip, hard enough for her to pull and tug it as you start losing yourself in her: her scent, her breath, her skin—all of it’s so deliciously addicting. You can’t get enough.

Then she’s going straight to moaning into your mouth, letting those muffled cries permeate in the small space and hopefully not outside the fitting room. She’s wet, she’s tight, she’s everything you need right now. You want, so badly, to pull her apart, ruin her till you can’t put her back together, get her begging at the top of her lungs for you to fuck her harder and harder.

And you’re almost on the verge of calling her a slut. There’s no need for that though, she knows what she’s made of herself.

—so that they’re a little shorter. I think we could also try—

Sana’s figured out the best way to moan: straight into your ear. She’s not letting up with them, and she’s giving you one hell of an array of sounds. There’s the common ah, the not so common, oh, and the very common shit, fuck, fuck me and so good. Her phonics are so loosely strung together that they’re just a jumbled mess, and you're perfectly ensconced with that; you love hearing those lazy, sloppy cries, and they only seem even more melodic at this volume, at this moment. Fuck, record them and play them as white noise as you sleep.

—changing the colours of the buttons? Ooh! Maybe we could even change the stitching around—

She tilts her head back, and you’re peppering her neck with kisses. She loves it, you know she loves it; all this attention, all this adrenaline, all this carnality she’s invoking—all of it for her. Each time you grunt, she knows that she’s the damn reason for it. Every time your fingers dig into her thigh a little more, she knows it’s because of her. Every kiss on her neck, every inch of her pussy you fill with your rock-hard meat, all of it’s for her. She isn’t vain, nor is she a pick me girl, but she sure as hell knows how to make you treat her like she’s the only girl in the fucking world, and you’re more than happy to give her what she wants.

Because it’s always like this with Sana: if she wants it badly enough, she’ll formulate a stratagem to get it, nip her cravings in the bud before they turn into desires that she can’t control. Mind you, she’s not dissolute; she’s just “riding the highs of life” as she calls it. Pretty bullshit and circumlocutory, but you always let her off the hook.

—the pocket area? That’s my two cents. What do you think darling?

Another moment of silence follows, and Sana seizes the opportunity to nibble on your earlobe. Her leg’s sweaty, slowly slipping from your grasp and trembling from the pleasure that’s giving her voice this lilt when she says: Carry me. Fuck me. Cum in me. Please. Pleasure, coursing through your veins, makes you comply in an almost servile manner. It’s precipitous, even fatuous to pull such a stunt in a fitting room of all places, but when your hands are supporting her by her ass and her legs lock around your waist, there’s no turning back.

And as the man starts going off on his own preferences, Sana’s wrapping her arms around your neck, letting you get a look at those bouncing breasts as you reach new depths inside of those slick, warm walls. If she could cry out, she would, but those damn customers outside are placing her in a box here, and it’s clearly frustrating her. If you were at your place, her hands gripping your sheets and her juices messing up your quilt, she could moan, mewl, cry and cuss however loud she wanted. In a way, it was funny to watch her hold back, but at the same time: you so badly want to make her scream, undo her right here and now and make her a mess in your arms, but you’ll settle for what you have right now. What the two of you have created is controlled chaos, and should it be released past that damn changing room door, God knows what will happen.

Now it’s the store assistant’s turn to speak, and she’s giving them a rundown of the pricings. Outside, they’re talking about the possibility of a discount; inside, Sana’s talking about how deep you feel inside of. Outside, the man’s trying to guilt-trip the store assistant by saying how exorbitant the price is; inside, Sana’s exclaiming and pleading in a hushed voice—Own me. For the love of God, fucking o-own me!—as each thrust you make into her pussy sends her further and further down this rabbit hole of pleasure. It takes guts to fuck in a fitting room, but it takes the guts of Minatozaki Sana to be this needy while fucking in a fitting room. The risks of being caught are high, the risk of being heard even higher, but neither of those affect her ardour. At a controlled volume, she’s pleading for you to fuck her harder, faster, unravel every single bit of her being while she tries to keep herself together. It’s one hell of a show, and it’s one hell of an experience too.

(The sight of her perfect body flushed against yours as she’s fucked in the air, the smell of her sickly sweet perfume, the feeling of that divinely tight pussy wrapped snugly around your shaft like a damned glove, the way those sonorously soft moans filter into your ears. Add these together with the fact that the people outside could hear you at any second, and you’ve got one hell of a recipe for a voyeurist’s wet dream. You’re no voyeurist, but everything about this moment is making you feel like one.

Right now, this is everything to Sana. Having you this close to her, feeling that cool Prada air conditioning against her bare body, listening to you grunt and sigh as you piston yourself in and out of that slick, wet slit… All her needs are being fulfilled, all of her senses heightened and primed, aware of every movement you make inside of her pussy. Sometimes, you feel so good and oh fuck, or maybe even oh god isn’t enough to convey how she feels, so she just opts to let out this strained, strangled gasps that tells you everything you need to know—a maelstrom of emotions and expressions compressed and compacted into one simple “hngh” is enough for you to know that you’re doing something right.)

“You like this Sana?” you find yourself whispering. “You like being fucked like a damn slut with people just outside, don’t you? You like everything about this, don’t you?”

Right now, she doesn’t have that capacity to reply. Of course, you know this, which makes you feel all the more smug as you watch, watching as she slips into a state of complete, utter bliss: her mouth hangs open, her eyes are unfocused, she’s barely holding on to you. The purple mark that your lips have left on her neck sears itself into your sight, and it’s joined by the breathtaking view of her breasts loosely bouncing each time you drive yourself into her. Loose strands of hair are flying, neither of you have any hands free to fix them. Her legs are quaking around your waist, neither of you want to stop just so that she can be back down on the floor. Her eyes are closing, you can feel her heartbeat in her pussy, she’s begging, pleading, fucking imploring you to keep going.

Christ. You want her to moan as loud as she can for you.

It’s hard not to get turned on by the sight of it, and it’s even harder to keep yourself controlled under the rapidly tightening grip of her cunt. Her breaths are shallow, her head is almost completely limp. She may not seem to be aware of it, but you sure as hell are more than cognizant of the fact that the both of you are about to hit that peak that you’ve been chasing for the past God-knows-how-many minutes.

“Sana.” Uttering her name is all that’s needed to bring her back to the real world. When you have her attention, you give her the sentence that she’s been waiting to hear for so damn long: I’m gonna fucking fill you, and It’s like the air gets heavier when she softly whispers, pleads for you to fulfill her new desire; cum with me. I need it so bad.

Controlled orgasm would take strength to pull off, and you silently pray that you have that strength as you send one final thrust between her shaking legs. Your cock twitches, spasms and the first rope of your warm seed that’s sent into her waiting walls is enough to send her over the edge. She bites down on your shoulder, quick enough to muffle the cry that escapes her throat. The tightening of her walls seem to coordinate with each spasm of your cock, and they sync up, working together to get every last drop of cum out of you and into her. She lets a soft moan escape her lips with each spurt, as though welcoming it, as though each one were something she long wanted and needed. You let out a single, soft grunt, as though thanking her, as though every twitch of her walls that sends a shock down your cock is a treasure to be relished.

So the scarf that she brought in to try is no longer just an ornament like the rest of the outfits. Even after adjusting her outfit, the fabric still can't seem to cover that hickey you left on her collarbone. The simple solution: Sana waits there, you buy the scarf, hand it to her, she puts it on and the both of you walk out of the store like nothing happened, like the both of you really were in there to try on some clothes, then leave.

It’s unsuspecting, it’s smooth. The store assistant wishes you a good day, and Sana smiles and waves to her, looking exactly like she did when she entered, plus a scarf. The only difference in Sana’s entrance and exit from the Prada store is the load between her legs.

But that’s a secret for the two of you.

“Hey. Could I talk to you about something?”

In your two years of dating Sana, never have you heard her this nervous in your life. The fact that your client isn’t responding to you a day before his trial plagues you no more, and your laptop is shut before she can close the door.

Your posture—arms crossed atop the desk and back straight—is all she needs. The message is implicit: I’m here, all ears, and she smiles softly as she walks over to the bed. The frame creaks a little as she settles down.

“My uh… My Dad is organising another one of those damned Balls again.” The way she intonates her words tells you that the Ball is the least of her concerns at the moment. “It’s gonna be at the usual time.. Usual place… Not like we can move it anyway.”

You offer her a chuckle to assuage her, diffuse the tension a little. She manages a half-forced giggle at her own joke. Is this a transitional opening? Or is this legitimately the subject of her conversation? you’re thinking, and as you sip from your cup, that subtle shift in her posture is shifting the atmosphere of the room.

She’s scared, but of what?

“I was wondering,” she drums her nails against her knees, “could I… Introduce you to him tomorrow? M-My Dad I mean.”

And now you suddenly understand why she’s on edge. She’s not scared for herself; she’s scared for you. The head of the Minatozaki clan, Sana’s father—you heard much about him, partly because of the stories that Sana tells you and partly from the things you heard through the grapevine at work. In your firm, there’s a whole box dedicated to storing suits that have been opened by him on the intern’s table (it’s a hilariously off-putting thing to say out loud), and from what you’ve heard: there’s another two in the storage room. Personally, you’ve assisted a colleague in one of his lawsuits, and the emails you billed weren’t pretty. You’d be throwing out a fib if you ever couched that you never once thought: It’s a pretty bad first impression of the man, could he maybe… You know… Stop suing people? Please? but you’re not going to let a mere few boxes and one night of reading through emails determine your perception of Sana’s father.

And hopefully, he won’t judge a book by its cover too.

“I have a trial tomorrow Sha,” you remind her, but it’s not like you actually expected her to remember this; you whispered it to her while cuddling on the couch a solid week ago. “I don’t know when I’ll end. It might be a little tight for me.”

It's undeniable that she sighs in relief. The blush that follows the breath is a clear indication. She’s glad, too glad. You can't help but ask: What’s up? Think I’ll flub everything when I meet him?

Sana does that thing where she wants to answer, but doesn’t know how to: her mouth opens, closes, opens again—longer this time, then closes again. It isn’t an easy thing to talk about; what your father will think of your partner is never not a touchy matter. All touchy matters should be discussed in comfort (Sana knows that you strongly believe in this, that’s why she’s situated herself on the bed), and you join her on the mattress.

“WIll he feel that I’m not enough for you?” You’re prodding, all while you gently reach for her hand and grasp it in your own. It’s cold, really cold. You’ll warm it up with your palms, keep them there while she replies, “it’s not that… I know that you’re more than enough for me, that’s what matters to him… At least I think so.”

She’s staring down at her hand, the one that’s slowly heating up via the warmth of your hand. Then what’s making you so worried? you’re asking. She folds her bottom in, past her front teeth. You rub her knuckle with your thumb.

“Yea I… I don’t know what’s making me so worried either,” she finally muses. “Guess I’m just… New to this practice. Never had to do it before...”

Because all the men that have tried to win you over have never lasted for more than a week, you complete in your head, smiling as she lays her other hand over yours. It’s cold too—that won’t do.

And as you set another hand atop hers, she’s asking you for a kiss. Luckily for her, obliging her wants is your specialty, and your lips are quickly travelling that small gap between the two of you. Connection is made, and you physically feel her relax. You know. You know that she belides a truth that she’s not ready to divulge. It’s in her kiss, it’s in her hands, and that’s fine with you. You can infer that it’s not something that’s going to be detrimental to your relationship, and whenever she’s ready to speak about it, you’ll always be available.

Now the kiss is done, she’s asking for fried chicken. You counter-ask if the kiss was to soften you up so that she could ask for her Famichiki. Of course, you get a classic Sana reply: a “maybe”, followed by that mischievous grin. You rise from the bed to grab your coat.

You're glad that the Konbini is just next to your apartment. Sana’s glad that she gets to be close to you as you walk through the snowy street.

“You know,” she’s whispering, “I really won’t mind if you propose to me one of these days.”

You laugh it off, kiss her on her forehead.

In your head: you note to start looking for a nice ring.

Money can get you to places, but it can also get you a private soundproof karaoke room in a club. Three and a half years of dating—that’s all you need to know: you can bet your left kidney that Sana is taking full advantage of that room.

The bottle of Whisky that she opened to get the room is hardly the main event; Sana, slowly slipping out of that tight black dress she’s wearing, foreground to the default music that’s on the TV, has your unwavering attention. The smile on her face could've been mistaken for a sweet one if it weren’t for the fact that she’s getting naked, and the lack of a bra really doesn’t help with her case either.

“There isn’t a time limit to the use of this room, right?” You know the answer to that is no, the lady at the counter told you so. The question is more of a gauge, an instrument that’s helping you assess her plans for the night.

“If you’re trying to know how long we’ll be here for,” she slings her dress onto the couch next to you, and in her stockings and panties, saunters over with a sultry sway in her hips, “my answer is a secret.”

“I have work tomorrow, Sana.”

“Too bad. Call in sick.”

She picks up the glass of Whisky, raises it to her lips. When she drinks, she lets some of that amber liquid trickle out past her lips, down past her chin and onto her tits. In the light, her wet skin glistens and shimmers, and you once again find yourself in absolute awe with the woman before you. And as she straddles you, glass in hand, the way she uses her fingers to tilt your face up to the light tells you that she’s in control. She takes a sip of the amber liquid, swallows it, then brings it to your lips.

“Be a good boy,” she’s tipping the glass as she speaks, a strong way to convey that there’s no room for disobedience, “say ‘ahh’ for me baby.”

The glass is cold against your lips, the liquor even colder on your tongue as it flows into your mouth at a manageable rate. When she stops pouring, you take the cue, and you swallow all of it in one gulp. The burn in your throat is oddly rewarding, probably because Sana’s smiling down at you, stroking your hair and telling you how obedient you are as you swallow. Then she makes you open your mouth again, pours another portion down the hatch.

How does it taste, she’s asking, cupping your right cheek as she swirls the glass. You give her a short honest review of it: It’s good. The answer pleases her, and she sets down the glass in her hand to pick up the bottle from the table next to you.

“Yamazaki, 12 year old single Malt.” She’s letting you see the bottle under the light, though you have to admit that her tits right next to the bottle are a horrible distraction. “My personal favourite.”

She unscrews the cap and takes a swig straight from the bottle, swallows it without even flinching. She’s always been able to hold her alcohol well, and you know for a fact that she can probably outdrink 5 of your colleagues and maybe, just maybe, your boss too. But you’ll never have a fair gauge on how well she can drink in comparison to your peers; she only drinks around you.

Your face is back in her hand, and she’s got some more things to say—Drink it neat, on the rocks, add it to another drink, it tastes great no matter what—as she starts to lightly grind herself over your throbbing shaft in your pants. But you know what the best way to drink it is, she asks you. She’s not looking for an answer from you, just finding a way to transition from the Whisky to whatever it is she has in mind—you can tell because she leans down to capture lips right after she throws out the inquiry, kissing you deeply, her tongue playing aggressively on your lips before searching your mouth for its counterpart. The smell of Whisky is so damn strong on her breath, and the only thing hotter than the burning sensation in your throat is the fact that she’s using one hand to play with herself, the bottle of Whisky in the other. You can hear it slosh next to your ear as she raises it.

And as she breaks the kiss, the thin strand of saliva connecting the two of you doesn’t stop her from providing the answer to her question—it tastes the best when you drink it right off my body—as she straightens herself. The next second, still playing with herself, she’s bringing the bottle to her lips, tipping it just before it touches those red-tinted lips to let the golden liquid flow down her chest and breasts. There's no time to admire; you reach out and catch the rapidly falling liquid, your tongue pressed tightly to her skin to lap up as much of the bitter liquor as you could. Her skin glistens with the Whisky on it. It looks like gold in the snow. She smells like lavender and lust.

Your tongue, saturated with Whisky, finds and captures her left nipple. You close your lips around it, suckling deeply from her chest, enjoying the taste of her body and the liquor that made it spicy and bitter. Sana gasps and moans as you have your way with her chest, fondling her small mounds, suckling both of her taut nipples—roughly, hungrily. You could say that she’s wasted some perfectly good Whisky, but you say that she’s added complex flavours to an already exquisite meal. The blend of alcohol and Sana’s skin is not something you never knew you needed, but now you do. The novelty of it, the sheer lust she’s emanating, all of it makes her tits taste better than ever, and you find yourself leaving marks on her cleavage, the right side of her left breast, the left side of her right breast; every centimetre of skin that can be reached is marked and tasted—your attempt at dipping your toes in a little control in this karaoke room that is Sana’s domain.

Maybe you’re a little over-indulgent in her, maybe you’re just unaware, but you certainly can’t feel her slipping your tie off your neck. By the time you’re aware of the sudden feeling of freedom at your throat, she’s already wrapping your wrists, securing them together with an intricate knot. You know damn well that even the boy scouts couldn’t untie this one, even if they sent their best member. The theory is only enforced when Sana asks you to try pulling your wrists apart, and it feels like they’ve been superglued together. Satisfied, she feeds you some more Whisky off her body, then it’s time for her fun.

Palm flat against your chest, eyes flaring, wicked smile; Sana pushed you back against the couch with graceful authority—something that only she is capable of. Then it’s onto your shirt, and he’s unbuttoning it with practised dexterity: unfastening, pulling—motions so fast that she has your reverence for mastering the art. She takes a moment, parts the fabric covering your chest and runs a fingernail down the centre of your torso. The nail—painted black with little Sakura flowers adorning it—stops at your belt. It isn’t hesitance that keeps her finger there; it’s the innate cheekiness that makes her linger there a little longer, that makes her smile softly as the other hand joins in and starts undoing the clasp of your belt. Not a word is uttered as she pulls apart your belt, then goes straight for the buckle of your belt.

Then it’s back to kissing. Sloppy, passionate kissing. Sloppy, passionate kissing as she runs her fingers through your hair. The Whisky on both of your breaths mingle. Admittedly, you’re feeling a little floaty, engendering a pleasant tingle on your skin as she starts placing kisses on your cheek, then on your jaw. Next thing you know, she’s sucking hard at the nape of your neck, marking you with those lovely lips, as if she’s placing a wax seal on you, declaring: you are mine and mine alone. And when she successfully sears the shape of her lips onto your skin, she traces the slick outline with a finger, whispers softly, You have no idea how much I want to own you right now.

The excitement is palpable, the tension even more so. She’s whispering all sorts of things to you—most of them entailing what she’s about to do with your cock—all while she starts to slip your briefs off of your legs. Your cock springs out of your pants, slaps against her ass and twitches on the rotund flesh. The smile grows wider, devilish dimples appear. And for the record: no, she’s not gonna blow you. She’s gonna make herself cum before anything else happens, and she’s going to make you feel things you’ve never felt before.

She slides off you, gets back up on her feet. With her back turned to you, she bends forward at the waist, shaking her ass while she uses her thumbs to hook onto the waistband of her panties. She looks over her shoulder, eyes locked on yours. With a little hop, she pushes the fabric down and off her hips, kicking it to the side. She looks over her shoulder, eyes locked on yours. With a little hop, she pushes the fabric down and off her hips, kicking it to the side. Her pussy glistens in the light, flushed pink and folds tantalising as ever puffy and swollen with excitement.

She bends her knees, getting down on all fours.

She wiggles her ass at you, looking back at you over her shoulder.

“Bet you wished,” she gets on her back, spreads her legs to get the spotlight on her slit, “that you could absolutely own me like this right now, don’t you?”

She’s so cocksure. It’s driving you crazy. You swallow, your voice barely audible as you utter her name. She crawls to you, sits up, her face in front of yours, so close, so hot. Her hand touches the back of your head, her voice barely a whisper as she grips the base of your cock—but you can’t, and it’s so damn frustrating, isn’t it?—and rubs your tip between her dripping folds, lathering her juices all over your head and smiling all the way through.

And when you least expect it, she turns and sinks down on your cock.

You throw your head back, groan, the sound of her wetness as she takes your cock into her pussy loud and clear over the music. Your head falls forward again, watching her sink further and further, taking more and more of your cock inside her with every passing moment as she lets a long, drawn-out moan float through the air. When her crotch meets yours and you are fully embedded inside her, a soft, wordless cry of pleasure that leaves open lips. You meet it with a sigh of your own, somehow tearing open your own shut eyes to watch the expression on her beautiful face as you fill her.

Christ, fuck and god—just some of the words that you want to cry out as she starts to slowly grind herself against you. The ride she’s about to take is one that’s of perverse nature; it’s not going to be a slow, pleasant ride. Naturally, her habit of jumping straight into things leaves her unprepared for what she’s about to experience, so now she has to slowly slowly adjust to your size, like striking the flint over and over next to the fireplace as you hope to get a flame going. Usually, this would be a time where you’d caress that beautiful body, run your hands over that unblemished white skin and pepper kisses all over the places that she loves to be kissed. But she’s not in the mood for that, not when she has this room and you at her disposal.

Then the fire ignites, and it is merciless, a force of nature—untameable, unrelenting. In your bonds you are unable to resist. You never would’ve in the first place. She begins to move, her pussy tight and slick around your cock. She rides you like she was made to do this, like a pro. She rides you fiercely, roughly, taking you in and out of her tight wet heat, caring little for your comfort or much of anything aside from stuffing herself over and over with thick, hard meat. Throughout it all she is digging into your thigh, crying out like her life depends on it as she goes up, down, up, down—a lewd seat on a merry go round.

Yes, yes, yes—she throws her head back, auburn hair flying like streamers in the wind as she has her way with you—o-oh fuck I need this! I need this so fucking bad! The rhythmic, repetitive motion, her unbridled desire to be filled, it sends you reeling. The pressure on your leg is forgotten, the slight discomfort in your arms pushed out of the way. You can do nothing but watch her ride you. You can do nothing but marvel at how good you feel inside her, how the tightness of her pussy massages your shaft, how the way she takes you so completely into her folds, how you stretch her and make her quiver and quake.

A part of you wishes the mirror were visible from your current position, so that you could watch as Sana impales herself over and over on your cock. You want to watch the expression of pleasure wrangle her cute features, want to watch her full, round breasts bounce up and down, want to watch every muscle of her long, perfectly shaped legs work to throw her body again and again against your cock. But you’ll have to content yourself with the almost equally alluring view of her sweaty back (not that it was a particularly difficult position to enjoy. How could you call it “bad” with the view of her round, full ass as she slams it down against your crotch?). It’s not like you can change anything about this anyway. No—the only thing you can do is sit back, watch, and savour how her ass jiggles as it crashes against your crotch.

Oh fuck, oh yes! I’m so fucking full! I’m so stuffed with this cock!

You lose yourself to the sound of her voice, the feeling of her pussy as it swallows up your cock, the sight of her back arching and her hands shaking. As much as you try, you find yourself unable to move, as though your own pleasure has been drained out of your body, and you are just an observer. You watch as she pushes herself down further on your cock, impaling herself with every thrust of her hips, her voice growing louder and louder as she gets into that dangerous rhythm, the rhythm that makes you think she’s on Acid. Well-formed breasts bounce, you see them past her slender figure. Her shapely, luscious ass ripples. Long legs work overtime, cooperating with the stamina of the girl who is using them to drive herself over the edge like it’s her be-all and end-all. It’s exhilarating. It’s thrilling.

It’s so fucking hot.

Oh god. You’re stretching me out so good. This cock feels so damn good!

Two things are getting you at the moment: (1) The sweat glistening that’s building up on her back. (2) The fact that she’s pushing your thighs apart to get more of you inside her. The former sight is a breathtaking process really: beady moisture on that well built back, pooling at all the best places and making her skin glow as some of it slowly trickles down her spine. The latter’s no grain of sand either mind you, maybe even hotter than Sana’s sweaty back if you dare say. Freshly done nails sit just outside the insides of your thighs, the palms that they’re connected to pushing down against the flesh beneath them. They’re indenting the muscles of your thighs, it’s uncomfortable, but only for a second at a time.

I don’t wanna stop. I don’t wanna fucking stop!

In your restraints, your hands grasp at the flesh that’s so close yet so far, the skin that’s rippling and slapping against yours. Her ass taunts you, tempts you, teases you. It’s so frustrating yet so erotic; you aren’t sure if you should welcome this mix of emotions or reject it before it folds its wings and nestles itself in your chest. The mix of desire and vexation, exasperation and ecstasy—any two emotions that shouldn’t go together are mixing, blending, forming these bubbles in your chest that you can’t explain.

One woman; innumerable sensations.

You need more. More of everything. More of her.

You wish you could touch her.

You wish you could fuck her.

But all you can do is watch, watch as she starts going down harder, crying out even louder.

Her body, so flawlessly feminine, is in deadly motion, working you over from the inside like you’ve never experienced. The air is filled with the wet, lewd sounds of her pussy sucking you in your hips slapping against her ass, her moans and groans, her curses that seem to go on perennially, blending in perfectly with that shitty synth in the background.

And you’re just along for the ride.

You have no idea… How good this is.. Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

And she wants you to see it, she wants you to watch her—it is exactly that kind of attention that she is basking in. So you watch. You watch her, the way she looks back at you, the way her eyes flare as she takes you in, the way her hands claw at your leg. The way she's moaning with that lilt back in her voice. Everything about this spectacle seems like it’s been scripted for some porno, and her body is certainly making you feel like you’re in one. The only grasp on reality that this situation offers is… Well, nothing. And it’s not that there really isn’t anything for you to root yourself in this real world, rather you’re choosing not to make that mental effort to do so; every little corner of your mind is being bled with whatever colour the image of Sana bouncing on your cock is. There’s no room for reality, and it's addicting, enthralling.

Fuck. You can't get enough of her, and you probably never will.

So deep! So fucking… Oh my god!

Your breath is ragged, and it takes every bit of control you have left in you to not cum right then and there. It takes every ounce of focus not to simply give in to her, not to simply melt into the couch, not to lose your mind to the sensation of her tight, wet slick as it swallows you in, pushes you out; fucking itself over and over and over again on your rock hard shaft. You don't know how much longer you can hold out for, and as if she can tell, Sana starts to move faster, her movements getting even more aggressive. The slaps of her ass against your crotch are louder now, and the wet smacking sound of her pussy's getting faster and faster. Her fingers are digging into your leg, her moans more frequent and more desperate. You can feel her tightening around you, the way her walls clamp down, the way her legs are trembling, the way her voice is going up in pitch.

(It’s the moments of privacy that really get her going; the moments where she can scream and cuss and moan like there’s no tomorrow are everything to her.

Yes, she likes fucking in public spaces for the thrill of it, but she likes it better when she can hold you freely as you fill her, not having to care for the fact that the way her body’s positioned engenders any discomfort or risk of being heard.

Yes, she likes it when there’s the chance that someone can walk in on the two of you, but the prospect of being able to own your cock, uninterrupted and unheard, thrills her like nothing else in the damn world.

Yes, she likes to see if she can hold in her cries while you’re rearranging her insides in a bathroom stall, but she prefers it much more when she can slam herself down on your cock—be loud and be proud of the fact that she loves every inch of meat that fills her till she can barely breathe.

Bottom line: she likes chasing that thrill of being caught, but she loves those moments where she’s alone with you in private even more. Now is one of those times, and God… She’s barely herself anymore.

She is a storm of pure, unfiltered lust. And you must say: it’s fucking sublime.)

Then the game changing sentence comes from her, and it's beautiful.

"I'm fucking cumming!"

The words ring out, clear and loud. And she doesn't stop; she keeps riding you, taking you into her wet hole and milking your cock, using you to bring herself off. It's not until the final second that she slows down, her back arching as she lets out the most satisfying scream that you have ever heard in your entire life. It is all that you can do to watch as she slumps forward, breaths ragged and body twitching as you hold yourself back. It takes everything—every fibre, every cell and every last bit of will—to not cum in her right there and then. And when the final spasm has passed and the shuddering has subsided, when Sana has collapsed against you, your cock still buried inside her, she turns to you.

There are no words spoken, just a mutual understanding of what comes next. She slips off the couch, takes your slick shaft in her hands. A few pumps are delivered, and they’re considerate and slow; she’s good at building tension.

“You’ve already marked my tits. Might as well cum on them.” She’s still got some cheekiness left in her, and that smile is really doing everything for you.

“Fuck, Sana, I—” “Do it. Paint me.”

You feel the semen gather in your balls before coursing up your shaft and erupting from its tip, landing in thick, wet, warm ropes upon Sana’s creamy skin. Your tip is directed between her cleavage, and the first spurt of cum shoots itself between those wonderful mounds. It’s quickly followed by a second rope, and the third lands on her upper chest. With grace, she manages to direct your spurting cock by the base so the fourth and fifth ropes cover the front of her tits, then the rest don’t matter anymore.

The last ropes of thick, warm semen land upon her face, staining her soft, blushing features with creamy white cum. Some of it lands on her cheeks, on her forehead and onto her open mouth and the thirsty tongue within it. When you finally open eyes you hadn’t known had closed, the picture of Minatozaki Sana, face and chest painted with your warm, thick cum, is one you never want to forget. And as she scoops up your seed with her fingers, she’s got a thing or two to say.

“Excellent load,” she whispers, watching as the cum slithers down her palm. “Plus two to you.”

Just two? Is your reply of false bewilderment. Sana chortles.

Maybe if you can give me a load up my ass, I’ll consider adding another three points.

Now the ring’s oddly heavy in your pocket.

Sana’s father seems more imposing than he should for a man his size, and looking at the Yamazaki bottle on the desk, you can tell that Sana gets her liking for Whisky from him.

“I’ve never met you in my life,” he begins, “and now you come here like a friend, asking for my daughter’s hand in marriage?”

Sana’s head is bowed. In the corner of the office she sits, hands clasped over one another as she listens in silently. No amount of trials or oral submissions could ever prepare you for this tension.

“Mr Minatozaki… I understand that all of this is sudden,” you begin, but you’re interrupted by a raised hand.

“You know boy… You sure do talk like you know everything about the situation.” His voice is nowhere near threatening as he speaks, and it’s absolutely terrifying. “For a lawyer, you sure do sound quite the fool. Guess I shouldn’t have been expecting much considering your background.”

And it’s that very statement that has you on tenterhooks. You’ve never met him, never even seen his face, yet he knows your occupation which you never even touched on, and from the sound of it, knows what went down in your family. Sana’s head snaps up, her eyes wide as she watches her father produce a file from under his desk.

“It’s not the suddenness,” the air quotations he uses hold more weight than they really should, “that doesn’t sit well with me dear boy. No, no… It’s more than that.”

The broad leather chair in his office grows constricting. As he rises from his seat, the foam that holds your butt up seems to depress. And as he begins—if you sauntered in here as just a lawyer, I would’ve let you take my daughter in a heartbeat!—his explanation of what’s grinding his gears, you start feeling uneasy. For context on the severity of this feeling: the last time you felt like this was when you first met his daughter.

But you’re not just a lawyer—he’s opening the file in his hands, flipping through its contents—you’re a disgrace to this very world. You shouldn’t even be in this damn house right now.

Into the file his hand reaches, and out from it: two mugshots. You bristle; Sana gasps (and it’s not that she didn’t know, rather because she was shocked that her father knew.)

So it’s the next sentence that seals your fate. Frankly, you kind of expected it, but it still doesn’t take away from the sheer bedlam that goes down in your head when Mr Minatozaki waves the mugshots of your parents before your face and shrieks at the top of his lungs.

This isn’t the way you pictured this going.

Honestly, you never pictured this happening at all.

“Do you seriously think for a second that I’d let the son of two druggies—two disgraceful, repugnant, filthy, druggies—marry my daughter?”

It’s hard to forget what she told you over the phone after your talk with her father (if you can even call it that): we’ll figure this out. I promise you, we’ll figure this out.

Money can get you a nice fancy Ball, some nice Whisky and a private Karaoke room. Naturally, it can grant you a means to keep the son of two convicted drug abusers that hung themselves in their cells away from your daughter.

So not even 12 hours after that fate-sealing conversation did you get a phone call from your boss. Next thing you know, you’re uprooted from your workplace in Osaka, transferred to the branch in Nagoya; Sana’s number mysteriously changes itself, none of your letters ever reach her.

It’s over the payphone, months after all of this, that Sana finally reaches you, and she’s ugly crying over the phone.

We can fix this, we’ll figure something out. We’ll figure this out. I promise you, we’ll figure this out.

In a way, she ended up being right.

And in your suit, you smile as you watch her walk down the aisle. She’s beautiful as ever, and you feel like that white veil over her face is doing her the biggest disservice ever. The little boy carrying the wedding rings seems a little confused, but it only adds to his adorable aura as he stumbles behind Sana. The flower petals are being scattered, the crowd’s on their feet. They’re clapping; you’re crying. Have you mentioned that she looks beautiful?

Oh? You have? Odd…

But just in case it slips your mind, you tell her how beautiful she is in your head, all while she walks right past you and continues to the stage. It feels like the ring boy’s acting stupid to taunt you for being the fool here.

In a way, she ended up being right. If “We” referred to Sana’s father and that man on the stage, “We” did indeed end up figuring things out. The invite broke you, and this wedding is breaking you even more. You know that this invite wasn’t sent by Sana—she isn’t cruel. This has the fingerprints of her father all over it: the seat close to the aisle, your wristband to authorise your access to the venue holding the same serial code as your father’s prisoner ID… All of it is him.

But there’s not much you can do about it is there? You chose to come, you chose this for yourself. There was the option to not come, to tear the invite up and go cry in your apartment in Nagoya, but you bought the Shinkansen ticket here, didn’t you? You walked through the doors of this damn place and took your seat, didn’t you?

And the Yamazaki doesn’t taste as good as it should, and the Spring air is sharper than it should be at the afterparty. They’re over there, congratulating the newly weds and wishing them all the best; you’re over here, sipping on your neat Whisky behind a bush as the music roars on.

It really shouldn’t be a question on how she finds you; she knows you too well to know where you’d go at a place like this. And in her wedding gown, she stands where she is, this look of a god-knows-what mix of emotions simmering on her face. You rub your nose with a thumb, sip on the bitter Whisky as your remedy. No words are spoken, not even a “hey” or “how have you been”—both of you know that there’s no use in starting a conversation here. It’ll go sob, fast, and this isn’t the place for it.

There will never be a place for it.

So why not substitute words with actions?

So in her bare feet, she hikes up her gown, runs over to you, lunges to close those years of separation between you two to hug you like she used to. The Whisky is knocked out of your hands; you’re knocked off your feet. And in the grass, she buries her head into your shoulder and weeps.

You always thought that only death would make you cry, but now as you hold her for what may very well be the last time, you realise: you're not as tough as you think.

Like a Lemon, the realisation that comes is bitter, and it has you bawling.

Cause maybe in a world that wasn’t so cruel, you could’ve been the one on that stage.

(Then the two of you could be in love, happier than ever.)

#minatozaki sana #twice smut #sana smut #kpop #fanfic #writing #smut

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steddielations · 2 months

Text

nonsexual d/s for sub Eddie week with art here by @ent-is-indecisive

“Eddie, will you please open the door?”

“I ruined it, Steve, I messed everything up.”

“You didn’t ruin anything, baby, let me in, c’mon.”

All the music from the party almost drowns out Steve’s voice, but a small pathetic piece of Eddie clings to it like an anchor. He opens the door and Steve’s brows knit sympathetically at the state of distress Eddie's in. It’s all fucked up.

His leather sleeve is wet and sticky, he can’t stop raking his fingers through his hair, ruining the nice waves Steve styled for him earlier because he was too much of a wreck to do it himself. It’s all fucked up.

“I fucked up.”

Shaking his head, Steve comes inside and shuts the door behind him. “It wasn’t that bad. Could’ve been worse, remember when Robin threw up in the middle of an audition.”

“Steve, at this point they’re gonna pay me not to make an album,” Eddie stresses, pacing around the bathroom. “I spilled wine all over the guy. Dale fucking Grazer wants to talk serious paper and shake my hand and I just emptied my stupid little glass all over him!”

“It was just wine, not puke or something,” Steve says lightly, trying to bring Eddie down from his frantic state. It works, his voice is a tether for Eddie to grab onto. “Come here, let me fix you up.”

Eddie does as Steve says, not trusting himself to make any more decisions when all he’s done today is fuck up.

Steve guides him over to the sink, wetting a towel and dabbing Eddie’s jacket. He’s so calm, like this isn’t the most important night in Eddie’s life and it’s not already blown and he can still make that hotshot from the record label like him.

Steve’s acting like everything’s fine, which makes Eddie feel stupid and small like he's overreacting, he tries to let Steve’s energy calm him too but it’s hard.

“You’re overthinking, I can see it on your face,” Steve says, being gentle but not in a coddling way that would make Eddie feel even more stupid.

He straightens out Eddie’s sleeve, good as new, then works on Eddie’s hair next. His fingers are soft and skilled and so sure, knowing exactly how to fix it and how to make Eddie melt under his touch.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, just trying to let Steve fix everything. He's way better at fancy parties and schmoozing than Eddie is. He always knows how to get Eddie out of his head and that’s what he needs right now. As pathetic as he feels about it, he needs to stop thinking. Let Steve think for him, even.

“Wanna tell me what’s on your mind?” Steve prompts softly and Eddie is helpless but to let it all out.

“I can’t stop saying the wrong shit. Why’d I tell him my dad’s in prison? Or bring up the dropped murder charges, or all that stuff about ket, I just can’t shut up.”

“No, that’s just you, the whole big personality charismatic rockstar thing. Trust me, that guy’s got star eyes for you.”

“This is just like with Paige’s label. I messed that up, and now I’m ruining Jeff’s chance again, and—”

“No you’re not, that guy loves Jeff already, everybody loves Jeff.”

“You’re right, he’s got this, he doesn’t need me. Let’s just get out of here, make a run for it.”

Eddie barely takes a step before Steve’s hands circle both his wrists, his grip gentle but solid, holding Eddie in place. It flips the same little switch in Eddie as the cuffs they use in the bedroom. It takes away the option to run.

Somewhere in the jumble of his mind, he knows it’s the right choice, trusting that Steve wouldn’t let him make the wrong one.

“We’re not going anywhere, baby, this is your chance too.” Steve rubs up and down Eddie’s arms, guiding him around in front of the mirror.

It’s hard for Eddie to look at himself right now and see it written all over his face. Steve cleaned the stain and made his hair perfect again but he can’t fix whatever’s making Eddie… Well, Eddie. Whatever it is that made him flunk senior year 3 times, or screw up the first chance he had to make something of himself, or the reason Ronnie won’t pick up his phone calls, or the reason Wayne sleeps with his keys on the bedside table in case he has to come running to Eddie’s rescue like always—

Steve’s fingers lightly cup Eddie’s chin, he’s standing behind Eddie now, his body warmly pressed against him.

“Look here, honey.” Steve gently tips Eddie’s head up to meet his own eyes in the mirror. They’re glistening with unshed tears that almost fall when Steve says soft but sure, “You’re not a fuckup,” and prompts Eddie, “Say it.”

Eddie swallows the lump rising in his throat, “I’m not—”

He chokes up a little bit and Steve waits patiently.

“Tell yourself,” Steve whispers, all earnest-eyed in the mirror like all he wants is to make Eddie believe it.

“I’m not a… fuckup,” Eddie gets the words out and a few tears slip free with them.

Steve brushes them away. “You can do this. Say it.”

With a deep breath, Eddie tells himself, “I can do this.”

Steve kisses his temple, gives him a little praise that he admittedly needs so much right now, “You’re gonna be so good.”

Eddie’s mind starts to clear of everything that’s not Steve rocking him slowly in his arms, whispering, “You’re my good boy,” as many times as Eddie needs to hear it. He feels his confidence building back up, getting more comfortable in his skin again with Steve holding him, believing the words Steve made him say in the mirror, believing the words Steve kisses into his neck and loves into his skin. He can do this.

“Aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me,” Steve prompts and Eddie turns a little, blinking slowly, eyes feeling heavy with the slow dose of bliss Steve gave him.

“I’m your good boy,” Eddie murmurs and he believes it.

When they leave the bathroom later, Steve can’t hold his hand through this, but Eddie still feels him.

He charms the fuck out of those suits from the label. They love Jeff, everybody loves Jeff, and they love Eddie too. The whole band is definitely getting signed, at least that’s what Steve says on the ride home.

Eddie greedily soaks up all the praise and attention, feeling a little spacey with it, Steve's big warm hand on his thigh grounding him. He can't wait for them to get home so he can properly thank Steve.

#i just think eddie needs steve to tell him he's a good boy sometimes and i'm right #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #subeddieweek #also thank you again ent i'm flattered you wanted to draw this and it's so gorgeous and I appreciate it!!

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ragingbookdragon · 10 months

Text

Ghost wasn’t a man who knew how to do relationships. Even when he was a teenager, the idea of romance was stamped out of him when he watched his father beat his mother. Love between two people didn’t exist to Ghost, and yet, he found himself sweet on the recruit they’d gotten from overseas a few months ago. If there was a person who had Ghost’s demeanor and Soap’s personality, it was her. Quiet when the moment called for it, always watching, always waiting, loud and boisterous when a party needed to be started.

He bonded with her over a love of fine bourbon and good knives, finding himself watching her at every opportunity to see if more of her would be revealed to him. He wasn’t going to ask, of course, a man like Ghost never asked. He observed and acted with careful thought.

Starting a relationship with her, however, proved to be a much more arduous task. Soap had once teased her about her love of having a knight in shining armor and she’d practically floundered in embarrassment while hastily spitting out, “Well, I’ve saved myself since I was eight. Forgive me for wanting someone to take care of me and treat me like a princess.” And that’s when Ghost realized that she wanted it all. She wanted the roses on the first date, to wear that sexy red dress, and go to a fancy restaurant. To have a man be a gentleman and open doors and pull her chair out, but still a little suggestive and whisper blush-inducing words in her ear when no one was looking. She wanted someone who would wake her up with slow kisses, bring her breakfast in bed, take her dancing under the streetlights when it was drizzling in the cool night.

She wanted what Ghost couldn’t offer her.

And yet, he tried to.

He had successfully asked her out with a dozen red roses, managed to get her into a red dress and to a nice restaurant, but the longer he found himself sitting across from her, the more he felt himself becoming uncomfortable with the environment. Too many windows, too many open spaces, too many unfamiliar faces. His nerves were on alert, and it was only until her hand gently rested on his that he looked at her, blinking in shock.

“Simon?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. “Is everything okay tonight?” concern was etched onto her face. “You look like you’re gonna have an anxiety attack.”

He swallowed thickly and shook his head. “I’m fine…jus’ not used to this is all.”

“Dinner with a pretty woman who can kick ass?” she joked, and he tried for a smile but managed to make a better grimace. “Simon, what’s wrong? Really?”

He let out a breath and closed his eyes, feeling like a fool for being in his thirties and unable to properly explain his emotions like a teenager. “I’m trying to give you a good date, but…I don’t…” she gently encouraged him by brushing her fingers against his hand. “I don’t know how to do this right. And I…I don’t want you to get upset that I’m not doing it how you want.”

“How I want?”

Simon gestured vaguely. “A knight in shining armor…treating you like a princess.” He looked at her. “I…care about you, love, I just don’t know how to do this in a way that you deserve.”

Her eyes shown with a softness, and she nodded her head, then pulled away, flagging down a waiter for the bill. He wasn’t even able to argue when she paid and pulled him up, dragging him to the car where she ordered him to drive her back to base. And all the while, Ghost was cursing himself for being so open that it wasn’t until he was trying to stop his heart from escaping his throat at her quarter door that he realized it.

She opened her room and walked in, stopping when she realized that Ghost didn’t follow her. “Simon?”

“Look, I get it, this isn’t what you want, but I just need to—”

“Will you get in here?” she huffed, pulling him in by his suit jacket. “Jeez, can’t even read the room.”

“I don’t follow?”

“You’re a smart man, but I think you’re spending too much time around Soap.” She smiled and sat on her bed, bright expression lit up at him as she said, “Simon, I don’t need you to be some type of prince for me.” Holding out her hand, she added, “Besides, I think a knight in shining armor is a little far-fetched even for you. You’re more like a death knight. The grim reaper. Death incarnate. Death—”

“I got it,” he scowled and sat down, taking her hand in his. “So…you don’t want the whole suit and tie?”

“You look like you’re genuinely going to have a hernia, Simon. It’s like you stuck a cat in a Halloween costume. Besides, you look the best in a pair of dark jeans and that jacket-hoodie combo you always have going on.” She looked away, embarrassment in her tone as she admitted, “It’s sexy.”

“You think I’m sexy?” he teased, and she rolled her eyes, glancing back at him.

“I once watched you break a man’s neck with just the heel of your boot and that’s when I genuinely realized there was something wrong with me, because it was very enticing to see how deadly you were.”

“So, you don’t want to be saved by a prince, you want to be saved by an asshole knight who was assigned to guard the irritating princess against his will? And they bicker at every single moment of their life?”

She snapped her fingers and pointed at him. “That’s the relationship goals.” She smiled at him. “And then they fall in love, and he realizes that his irritating princess is actually all he’s ever wanted in life.”

“Besides a paycheck.”

“Besides a paycheck.” She gently reached up, cupping his cheek, thumb brushing over his lips as she murmured, “Simon, I don’t need you to be something you’re not. I just need you exactly as you are.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, maybe you can smile at me more than you do everyone else. Maybe not be so grumpy with me.”

He knocked his forehead against hers. “I already do that with you.”

She barked a laugh. “HA! Could’ve fooled me. You grunt at me like you do Soap.”

“That’s because you and Johnny become Dumb and Dumber when you two get together.”

“We do not!”

“And you turn into the three stooges when you get Gaz in on it.”

“That one might actually have grounds, but the jury’s still out on the former.”

“Uh huh.”

She shifted, throwing a leg over his lap, perching herself gently atop his thighs, forearms resting on his shoulders. “Why don’t we get out of the nines, put something comfier on, and get takeout? We can eat Chinese watching the water and talk shit about our childhoods.”

Simon visibly melted beneath her and leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. “Yeah…that sounds good.”

Clearing her throat, she leaned back a little and offered, “You should help me out of this dress though, Lieutenant Riley. See I can’t reach the zipper and I’m defenselessly naked underneath.” She batted her lashes. “I need a man of upstanding honor to make sure that no one can take advantage of me in my nude. A man who wouldn’t feel up all this woman underneath her clothes.”

Ghost smirked, reaching behind her to grab the zipper of her dress. “Is that right?” he started pulling down. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but there are no men with upstanding honor here.”

She sighed dramatically and feigned passing out, a hand pressed against her forehead. “Oh no, whatever shall I do in the hands of this scoundrel? Am I really to give in to the throes of passion and let him ruin me and my honor?”

The zipper touched the top of her rear, and he slipped his hands inside her dress, feeling her warm, bare skin beneath. “Funny, I was thinking that exactly.”

“My bodyguard is going to kick your ass,” she retorted, arching against his palms as they smoothed up her back to securely pull her down by her shoulders. “I’m serious. He’s very protective over what’s his.” She leaned in and murmured, “He once cut a man’s head off for touching me.”

Ghost’s chest rumbled with a growl, and he leaned into her ear. “Well, well, Princess, it’s a shame you can’t tell your bodyguard from a common knave.”

“Oh, I can,” she flirted, tugging at his tie. “It’s just fun to see him get annoyed.” She grinned and curled the tie in her fist, yanking him forward. “Treat me well. Princess’s orders.”

He matched her smirk, already turning her back into the mattress, hands pushing up her dress to her stomach. “As she wishes.”

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purerae · 1 year

Note

What if the reader was high/drunk and when she’s high/drunk she’s the sweetest and very loving. How would Kieran react? Would he be all lovey with her?

╭────༺♡༻────╮

YANDERE!PLAYBOY X FEM!READER.

DRUNK IN SWEETNESS // ONESHOT.

warnings ;; yandere behaviour, possessive behaviour , fluff, obsession, lying (??), jealousy etc, slight angst (if you squint)

click here for the masterlist!

╰────༺♡༻────╯

Kieran walks into the party that he was dreading going to. Because he gave up hooking up with girls, going to parties was too boring for him. He can’t get drunk because he has a very high tolerance and the conversations he has with his so-called ‘friends’ makes him want to feel pain so he can shoot himself five times in the head.

The white-haired male would much rather talk with you, feel you, and joke around with you. Too bad, every time he asks for your number you mutter out a sarcastic response and switch the topic.

It’s not his fault he wants to speak with you at all times! I mean…He could just sneak into your house and watch you from there. But he isn’t going to do that of course! He’s not a fucking creep.

As he walks deeper into the house party, alcohol is pushed against his nose as his past hookups wink at him, the ones who want to be his new girl attempt to walk up to him but he just gives them a wink and pushes past them. If he got a coin for the number of people who dabbed him up and knew his name while he didn’t know theirs, He’d probably be twice as rich as he is now.

The playboy (or ‘former’ playboy) gets pulled into a conversation with the football jocks as they speak about the next game, who they’re going to go for and just basic stuff etc. Kieran makes a joke here and there and he can’t tell if they’re laughing at it because it was legitimately funny or if they’re laughing because they want to get on his good side.

With you, he never had to think that. He knows that you laugh if something is actually funny and God, it makes him feel so proud when he’s the one who gets the laugh out of you.

Speaking of you…His eyes glance away from the group for a split second and the same eyes widen at the scene in front of him. It was you. Dressed up for a party he would never imagine you would go to and hell, you looked fine as fuck. But there was no way you would go to this shitty party! Who would even invite you? The jocks?? No, no it couldn’t have been. Could it?

Maybe he’s just too obsessed with you that he’s imagining you there. He quickly disregards the conversation and walks up to the couch he’s supposedly imagining you on. But there you were, In the flesh. He gives you an infamous smirk before smoothly saying

“Woah, didn’t kn—“ “Oh, my god!! Kieran! Helloooo!!” You grin at him before jumping up from your seat, almost stumbling to the ground and give him a big hug before giggling. “Fancy seeing you here~!”

Kieran remained still for what felt like hours but was actually around 5 seconds. Why were you happy to see him? Why are you hugging him??? “…Haha hey now— What’s gotten’ into you princess?”

This was one of the first times he was almost speechless. Normally you reject his advances constantly. Even if he put an arm around your shoulder, you would give him a sharp glare and push him off. But now…You’re hugging him?!

Unfortunately for him, you let go of the blissful hug before looking up at him and pouting with wide glassy eyes.

“Are you not happy to see me…I’m r-really happy to see you, Kieran!” You sniff and flop back onto the couch. Glaring at him with narrowed eyes and a pout on your cherished lips.

The blue-eyed male recovers from his shocked flustered stare before realising…bottles everywhere, your eyes were struggling to stay open, emotions off the rail. You were obviously drunk! Your personality seemed more intimate too. He could use this to his advantage. Kieran quickly sits down next to you and holds onto your arm.

“Of course, I'm happy to see you, cutie! I'm always happy to see your pretty little face~” He flirts back at you, wondering how the drunk version of you would respond.

You lean into his touch and smile. “I knew you’d be happy to see me..!!” you look at his face and then his shirt before placing a hand against it. “Woah— your shirt suits you so much, Kier! You should wear blue more often” You compliment him with a wide smile and your eyes closed.

Kieran looks at your flushed face. In his heart, he knows it’s because of the alcohol but ignorance is bliss so he’ll pretend it was because of him. His face matched yours despite not drinking anything. The new nickname and the compliment which you never give him, gives him electrical pangs in his heart.

He looks down at you with a widened smile and you’re so close to him, he just wants to kiss your red plumped lips but decided against it. He wanted you to be sober when you guys kissed. He wants you to remember his lips on yours.

“Jesus, how much did you drink princess?” He mutters to himself, intending for you not to hear but since you guys are only 8 cm away from each other, you hear him loud and clear.

With a big frown, you say “I'm not drunk…at all… barely even dranked…drunk..drank?” you slur your words out and struggle to keep your head up before giving up and placing it on his chest.

To people surrounding you guys, it looks as though you’re his millionth girlfriend and he’s just flirting with you. But Kieran doesn’t care what people think. The male turns you around and lets you lean on his chest with a content smile, he wraps his hands around your shoulders.

“Hm? I believe you babe~ you’re not drunk at all, yeah?” He says with a humming tune in his voice.

You let out a “Mhm!” noise and you guys stay like that for a while. Kieran is flirting with you and instead of your sarcastic responses, you giggle and laugh while acting all sweet to him too. He knows if you were sober right now and saw how you were acting with him, saw the very public display of affection, You’d vomit all over the place and never speak with him again.

But he was always good at keeping secrets.

Your sweet conversation got cut off by one of Kieran’s ‘friends’ who walks up to you both with a drink in hand before laughing.

“Yoo, this your new bitch? She’s hot as fuck, where’d ya’ get her?” He yells out, obviously drunk and high and everything in between.

Kieran’s smirk turns into an angered look. Something no one has ever seen before. His eyes darken as he hears the cunt refer to the love of his life as a ‘bitch’…as well as complimenting her too! No one deserves to compliment what's his. He should be the one to call you hot, not some guy who doesnt even know your name.

He snarls out “She’s my girlfriend you freak, Say shit like that one more time and I’ll knock you the fuck out. Got it?” He places his signature smirk back on but his eyes remain the same.

The poor guy has never seen Kieran act like this before. This was a look he never wanted to see ever again. He responds meekly with a “m-my bad bro” Before scurrying off like a lost little sheep.

Kieran’s smirk drops once again as he holds you even tighter in his grasp. His fingers dig into your skin as you yelp in pain.

“Ow!”

His touch loosens. “Sorry princess, just close your eyes again for’ me, okay?” He looks down at you and sees your tilted head staring at him with a confused and worrying stare. He raises his eyebrow before you softly explain

“I’m…your girlfriend?” Kieran laughs and nods his head confidently.

“Of course! Did my cute girl drink so much that she almost forgot?~” He pecks your nose before leaning back onto the armrest and closing his eyes, his arms still resting against your body.

You make a noise of confusion before accepting the fact that you’re his ‘girlfriend’ and get comfortable against him again.

“Ah…Sorry!” You giggle out. and hold onto his arms.

Kieran knows this is wrong. He knows that if you knew he did this, you'd hate him forever. But he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help the domestic feeling of being a boyfriend. Your boyfriend.

Although he loves your snarky responses, He could definitely get used to the sweet side of you. Just one more hour of this. Please.

purerae<3

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thefallennightmare · 4 months

Text

Just Pretend-Twenty Three

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: PHASE II comes to an end! Strap in everyone, PHASE III is going to be a smutty ride. Also, please listen to Just Pretend on a constant loop for this chapter. ESPECIALLY AT THE THIRD PERSON POV SECTION. Then you all will finally understand what I meant about 2:23.

PLEASE READ MY JOLLY TWO PART FIC FIKA BEFORE CONTINUING ON TO CHAPTER-24!

FUCK YOU. EAT SHIT. KILL GOD. DETHRONE.

We are Fallenvvitch. Goodnight.

🪽🔮

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @koskeepsake @bngurngheart @shilohrosechicken @emzandthevoid @casangel1986 @qualityvoidcollectorsblog @myownthoughts12 @jilliemiw86 @bellaboo967 @halloweenaesthetic @collapsedglasshouses

JOLLY

As I stood in front of my mirror, I did my best to brush down the stray hairs so it could lay straight with the others. Tonight was important, for some more than others, but regardless, we all wanted to look our best. Noah was more nervous than any of us, only because in his mind he had more to lose.

“What if she doesn't show up?” He asked this morning during breakfast, moving his scrambled eggs around with his fork.

Jesse rubbed his shoulder. “She will, Noah. You have to stop doubting her. She’ll be there tonight.”

My phone went off in my hand and my heart skipped a beat when I peaked at the name.

I hope you have fun at your party tonight. Unfortunately, I’m stuck in bed sick. Had to close down early.

Attached was a picture of what seemed like her bedroom; a television perched up on a black wall with a wide variety of plants around it. She was watching Harry Potter; I immediately noticed which one and what scene.

Not wanting to overthink, I quickly snapped a picture of myself in the mirror before sending it to her.

“Now why are you, out of all people, smiling at your phone?” Nicholas wondered as he leaned against the door frame of my bedroom.

Sliding my phone back into the pocket of my black jeans, I stared at him unamused.

“Oh,” his eyes lit up. “Is it-?”

“Shut up,” I grumbled while gathering up my things.

Nicholas held up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Almost ready?”

“Yeah. How’s Noah?” I wondered while we descended the stairs and came to a halt in the living room.

“He’s okay, I think,” Nicholas sighed while stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Nervous, though. We tried telling him that Y/N will be there but you know him; he won’t believe it until his eyes set on her.”

I nodded. “I’ll talk to him and meet you at the car.”

Making my way towards the master suite which was secluded off the back hallway, I could hear Noah muttering to himself. The privacy of where this bedroom was located was one of the main reasons we let Noah have it. It was on a different floor than the rest of us so when Y/N eventually moved in, they could feel like it was just the two of them.

With a soft knock on his open door, Noah peered up from burning holes into the ground.

“Hey, are you ready?”

He was sitting on the edge of his bed with his phone lying next to him on the bed, the Calm app opened and playing, but his knee continued to bounce at a rapid pace. His once-styled hair was now a disheveled mess thanks to his hands running through it.

Noah motioned to his phone. “I’m listening to the new section of “calming your mind when you feel like you’re going to ruin everything.”

“Is that the real name of the section?” I crossed my arms over my chest

He hesitated. “No”

I pinched my eyes shut with a sigh. “Noah-.”

“I’m fine,” he reassured me by rising to his feet. “I just needed to collect my thoughts.”

“Are you nervous about the release?”

“No,” Noah fidgeted with the silver chain around his wrist. “What if she-.”

I pushed myself off the door and stepped into his bedroom, laying my hands on his shoulders; they were shaking.

“Y/N will be there. She confirmed it with me and Nicholas. Stop worrying, alright? Everything will be fine.”

“I know. I’m excited, trust me. I just want tonight to go right. For the album and Y/N. She deserves a good man, and I want to be that.”

“You are, Noah. Look what you’ve done here,” I motioned to his room. “You set up her vanity, you bought her plants, you bought her cat a fucking cat tree that takes up half the wall in the living room. You’re doing everything right.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Y/N thinks I’m pretty awesome. I am awesome, to be honest,” he chuckled.

“And there he is!” I patted his shoulder. “You didn’t go anywhere. You’re simply trying to navigate the new you with another person. Trust yourself. Trust Y/N.”

With a firm nod, I motioned to his outfit. “Ready to go?”

Noah ran a hand through his hair, still getting used to the short length.

“Yeah, I think so. Do I look okay?”

I peered down at his choice of outfit. It was from the new stack of clothes he bought earlier in the week. A snug black turtleneck with the sleeves rolled up to his elbow, showcasing his tattoos. The black dress pants were snug as well. A simple outfit but enough for Y/N.

“Maybe we should stay at Matt’s or even Malcolm’s place tonight,” I joked.

He rolled his eyes while playfully pushing my shoulder as my phone buzzed in my pocket.

“Oh, did she finally decide to be your date tonight?” Noah tried to peer at my phone.

I turned it away from him. “No, actually she’s home in bed sick.”

He stepped into his closet only to reappear with a pair of shoes in his hand. “We can bring her some soup. Or some of those Swedish desserts she made. Fuck, those were good.”

“Are you ready yet?” I asked, trying to change the subject. “Everyone is waiting on us.”

Noah patted himself down as he went over his mental checklist. “Shit, I need cologne. Two minutes.”

I reread Malcolm's text message as he ran into his adjoined bathroom.

Malcolm: We’ll be a little late. Y/N’s getting ready now but we’ll be there.

Me: See you guys soon.

“Ready?” Noah asked, stepping out of the bathroom.

I nodded while pocketing my phone again. “Yep.”

MALCOLM

“I fucking hate this shit.”

Stepping out of the hallway bathroom, I wandered down the long hallway towards the living room where I noticed Chase standing in front of the mirror next to the front door; an undone tie hanging loosely around his neck.

“Why the fuck do I have to wear a tie?” He grumbled when he saw my reflection in the mirror.

I chuckled before slinking up behind him and gently turning him to face me. “It’s a big night, Chase. The least we can do is dress up for our friends.”

He let out a deep sigh but nodded. “I know. I’m just not a suit and tie kind of guy.”

I paused mid-tying his tie before gazing at his black suit with a red shirt underneath. Tossing the tie onto the couch, I unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt, the ink of his chest piece peeking through with the gold chain he wore all the time.

“Babe, I love you,” Chase started. “But we don’t have time for that.”

Ignoring him, I smoothed down the front of his jacket. “Leave the jacket open like this. It looks better.”

He pointed to my burgundy three-piece suit. “You’ve been waiting for a moment to break this one out.”

I snorted while tying my long auburn hair back into a bun. “Damn straight.”

Chase laid a gentle kiss on my lips before he retreated into the kitchen to pop open a Celsius. “Did you text Jolly?”

“Yeah. The plan is still set. We should be getting there before their song plays,” I said.

“Cool.”

Chase nodded but I could tell something else was weighing on him.

“What’s going on?” I asked while sitting against the back of the couch.

“I’m worried about tonight,” he admitted after a long beat. “It’s been a long time coming. After all the bullshit and miscommunication, I just want things to go perfectly. She deserves that.”

“It will, Chase. But it’s not up to us. We can get her there but the rest is on them,” I said.

He ran a tattooed hand over his buzzed head. “I know, I know. How is she doing, anyway?”

“I think she’s okay,” I stuffed my hands in my pockets. “Nervous, though.”

Chase tossed the empty can into the recycling before leaning against the counter, crossing his arms. “Do you think she’ll love what Noah did? With the house and everything?”

“Of course, she will. Noah-.”

“Now what are you two handsome boys talking about?” The clicking of heels against the floor echoed in our apartment.

Both Chase and I turned our attention to her and he let out a low whistle. Y/N stood in front of us, decked out in full nines for tonight. The dress she wore gilded along the floor as she walked farther into the room. There was a long slit on the left side of her dress, showcasing the newest tattoo she got on the last tour with Joe. As she gave us a full 360, we marveled at the low-cut back of the dress that showcased her entire back and the large snake tattoo. With the thin straps, the tattoos on her arms were on full display tonight as well.

“Oh, sweets! Look at you.”

Y/N brushed her palms against the smooth material of her red dress. “Does it look okay? Is it too revealing? I feel like there may be too much boob with this dress and the open back-.”

“Y/N,” I stood straighter. “You look absolutely beautiful. Stunning. Noah will love it; you know how much he loves the color red.”

Chase agreed as he left a soft kiss on the side of her head, careful not to mess up the perfect curls. “He’s gonna pass out the minute he sees you.”

“I don’t think so,” she tried to argue, wringing her hands together.

“Sweets, you are the moon and he's constantly in your orbit. It’s just you two. All the time,” I said while grasping her hands, and holding them to my chest.

Y/N’s gaze darted back and forth between mine, the darkness of her eyeshadow making the color of her eyes pop, and she finally nodded. “Maybe you’re right. I do look good in this.”

“There she is!” Chase hollered while handing over her jacket.

“Fuck the record! You’re gonna be the belle of the ball,” I cheered.

We all shared a laugh but as soon as we were about to leave, Salem came bounding down the hall, the bell of his collar ringing loudly.

“Remind me to ask Noah why he chose the one collar with the loudest bell,” Chase grumbled.

Ignoring him, I watched as Y/N bent down low when Salem brushed himself against her leg; his way of saying goodbye.

“Bye, baby. I’m going to see your dad.” She mused while kissing his head, not caring if she messed up her deep red lipstick.

When Salem meowed, I peered over to Chase, who was already watching the two of them with his own fond smile. I snaked my hand behind his neck to pull him in for a kiss, one that always took our breath away.

“I love you,” I muttered against his lips.

Chase rarely ever smiled, only for me and Y/N, so when he did now my heart fluttered in my chest like it always did.

“I love you too,” he placed another kiss on my lips. “Alright, let’s go. We don’t want the belle being late to her own ball.”

Y/N walked out of the apartment before us however before I could follow, Chase held me back.

“I’ll bet you $5 they meet in the middle of the fucking room like some rom-com.”

I scoffed while patting his chest. “I’ll bet you $5 they start making out 15 minutes in.”

“You’re on.”

We sealed our deal with another kiss before Y/N’s voice rang out in the front yard, the stars and moon casting her in an angelic glow.

“Come on lovebirds! I can’t be late! My prince is waiting!”

THIRD PERSON POV

Y/N smiled politely as she maneuvered her way through the crowd of familiar faces. The House of Blues was packed tonight with people here to support Bad Omens. Their third album was minutes away from being released for the public and for everyone in this room to hear. It was a huge, long-awaited event so they threw this party together for their closest friends and other musicians that were signed to the same label as them.

“Y/N!” A somewhat familiar face beamed with their arms outstretched.

Y/N cursed when she couldn’t remember this girl's name although she did remember they were signed to the same label.

“Hi,” Y/N smiled. “It’s so good to see you-.”

Chase muttered low in her ear. “Reign. Guitarist for Tonight We Sleep.

“Reign!” Y/N nodded.

“I heard Hollow Souls was on tour with nothing, nowhere. How was that?” Reign wondered.

“It was a great time. But we’re thankful to be back home for a few months,” Malcolm answered.

Can you see yourself?

Through the bruises when the makeup melts?

In the dark when all the powers out?

Everybody talks and gets around.

As Malcolm and Chase continued their conversation with Reign, Y/N froze when Noah's melodic voice echoed through the speakers of the venue. The richness of it was something she’d never heard from him. She had only heard two of their new songs so far, this one was new to her. She couldn’t help but feel frozen as she let the beat of the music hit low in her chest.

Across the room, Noah was doing his best to remain professional as someone who was a friend of a friend kept commenting on how wonderful the first song sounded.

“I love what I’ve heard so far!”

Noah nodded with a firm smile. “Thank you. Also, thank you for coming out tonight. Means a lot to me and the rest of the guys.”

After politely excusing himself, he found Jolly off in a different spot of the venue, typing away on his phone.

“Any luck?” He wondered.

Jolly rested a hand on Noah’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “She’ll be here, man. You need to stop stressing out about it and enjoy the party. We made it. We’re finally here after writing this album for the last two years.”

Noah stuffed his hands into the pockets of his black dress pants and nodded while keeping his head down, dark tendrils of hair falling into his face. “I know.”

Only a few feet behind the two men stood Chase and Y/N who were busy chatting with Bryan and Matt.

“I really like the new look, Y/N,” Matt smiled as he motioned to her hair.

She smiled with a red hue to her cheeks and tucked a strand behind her ear. “Thank you. I thought I was due for one.”

“How was tour?” Bryan asked.

Tell me what's mine and tell me what's yours

Why I never got a say, never got a choice?

Tell me what's mine and tell me what's yours

And why I never ever got a fucking say?

Chase’s conversation with the other two fell on deaf ears as Y/N once again stood frozen as the familiar lyrics touched her ears. The haunting memory of when she first heard it in her car all those months ago was still fresh, like an aching wound that hadn’t freshly healed yet. She wouldn’t hold that lapse in judgment over Noah, not when they both were trying to heal from dark moments of their pasts.

Quietly excusing herself from the guys, Y/N wandered over to the mini bar, the ends of her red dress flowing behind her.

“Hi, what can I get you?” The young man with bright green eyes behind the bar asked.

“Dr. Pepper, please,” she smiled.

As she waited for her drink, Y/N leaned her elbow on the bar and rested her chin in her palm. She’d been here for almost thirty minutes and still no sign of Noah. She knew he was here; he had to be.

Outside in the front entry of the venue, Noah tried to pay attention to the story someone was rambling on about but the only thing in his mind was Y/N and if she was here yet. The anticipation of seeing her again was palpable, almost weighing him down, but he couldn’t allow himself to fall back into that state of anxiety he was in earlier. He had to heed Jolly’s words and trust that Y/N would show up.

I know I'm gonna die in this bed I made.

And I'm drowning in a dream that I can't escape.

If I could wake up I'd hesitate.

Politely excusing himself, Noah decided that he needed a glass of water to help with the sudden dryness of his mouth. There were people everywhere, always stopping him to chat. While he loved the praise and support for the new album, he only had one focus since he stepped foot into this building.

“Noah!”

Cursing under his breath, he turned swiftly to see an old friend, someone he hadn’t spoken to in a few years. At this moment, Noah was suddenly wishing he kept the album release party to strict friends and family.

“Dude this album is sick! The cover is amazing! What inspired it?”

Noah did his best to make it seem like he was interested in the guy’s questions but truth be told, he really couldn’t give a fuck.

“Uh, I was browsing through Pinterest,” he answered honestly while gazing over the man’s shoulder.

“That’s so cool! I love that. You know-.”

A sudden flash of red caught Noah’s attention so he quickly patted the guy's shoulder. “Hey, I’m sorry, if you’ll excuse me.”

Noah made it all of a few steps before someone else stopped him. “Noah!”

He stopped and rolled his eyes while internally groaning. He could not feel any lower at this moment as he began to feel like this was another moment set up for doom.

But that glimmer of hope in his chest sparked when he spotted those familiar auburn curls and the shaved head that belonged to the two members of Hollow Souls. So before this new conversation could start, Noah once again politely excused himself and reached Chase and Malcolm in a few quick strides.

“Hey, guys. Is Y/N-?”

Chase nodded. “She’s here, don’t worry. She was just with us but someone dragged her away for a minute.”

Cursing, Noah ran a hand through his hair for what seemed like the third time in a matter of minutes. It was the only thing he could do to keep his hands busy so they wouldn’t shake.

“Can you tell her I’m looking for her?” He asked.

“Of course,” it was Malcolm’s turn to nod.

In the middle of the large circle of people, Y/N was smiling as Jolly was telling her all about his last few weeks and frequent stops somewhere.

“She sounds lovely, Jolly. I can’t wait to meet her,” she took a small sip of her soda.

Jolly shrugged while fiddling with the zipper of his jacket. “It’s still early. Who knows if she’s even interested.”

Y/N rested a hand on his arm. “Don’t doubt yourself, Jolly. She gave you her number, right?”

When he nodded, she continued. “Trust me, she’s interested.”

They chatted for a few more minutes before Y/N excused herself, needing to get a refill of her soda. It was a long night ahead and needed all the caffeine she could get. The clicking of her heels on the marbled floors echoed over the loud chatter of everyone but soon halted when the next few beautifully haunting melodies of Noah’s voice sang throughout the room.

I made another mistake, thought I could change.

Thought I could make it out.

Promises break, need to hear you say.

You're gonna keep it now.

Memories of her and Noah in the backseat of his car flooded Y/N’s mind and she let her eyes flutter shut, gently touching her lips. It was as if she could remember the way he tasted that night after the pier and fireworks.

I miss the way you say my name.

The way you bend, the way you break.

Your makeup running down your face.

The way you fuck, the way you taste.

That night didn’t end the way either of them wanted it to. But tonight would be different. There was no way Y/N would be leaving

“I don't understand where she’d be. How haven't I seen her yet?” Noah grumbled while fidgeting with the silver chain around his neck.

Nicholas chuckled while taking a sip of his drink. “Relax, Noah. You’ll find each other soon. There’s a lot of people here and chances are she got caught up with some of them.”

Folio reached them with a bright smile. “I just ran into Y/N. You’re not going to believe-.”

“Where?” Noah’s eyes widened.

“By the bathrooms. She looks good, Noah. She cu-”

He didn’t bother waiting for Folio to finish before he pushed his way through the crowd toward the bathrooms.

You couldn't wait, wait, wait.

For the day, day, day I lost.

It's such a shame, shame, shame.

You couldn't change, look what it cost, ohh.

“You haven’t found him yet?” Chase asked as he, Malcolm, and Y/N sat on one of the couches in the venue.

“No,” she sighed while fidgeting with the silver chain around her neck. “I’ve seen everyone else but him. I don’t understand where he could be. It’s like he’s avoiding me.”

“No,” Malcolm sternly shook his head. “Don’t think like that. He’s here and looking for you.”

“How come I haven’t seen him then? This place isn't huge, Malcolm.”

“But it’s packed with people, he probably got caught mingling. Just relax. Have another Dr. Pepper, will you?” Chase motioned to the minibar.

Reluctantly, Y/N nodded while rising to her feet and making her way over there for another drink.

I don't wanna know all your secrets 'cause I'll tell.

It's hard enough being alone with myself.

I don't know how long I'll be holding on.

I know you tried your hardest, I know that you meant well.

But you pushed me to the edge and I slipped, and then I fell.

I don't know how long I'll be holding on.

“Everything alright?” Jesse asked Noah, who was starting to look defeated.

“I’ve talked to everyone in this fucking room,” he ran a hand over his face. “I’ve done enough mingling for the night.”

“I’ll get us a couple of drinks,” Jesse offered.

Noah waved him off. “No, I’ll get it.”

Both Noah and Y/N were slowly starting to lose hope that they would find each other, all while the rest of their friends were worried the two soulmates would miss their mark. Two songs left and if things didn’t go according to plan, everything would have been for nothing.

Y/N leaned against the wall in the secluded hallway, alone for the first time all night as she gathered her thoughts. Her feet were killing her from the heels and her cheeks ached from all the fake smiling tonight. She understood she needed to mingle with people tonight but frankly, she was over it. The only thing Y/N wanted was to find Noah; her heart and soul yearned for him.

I'm taking it slowly, you'd never know.

How quick it gets lonely here at the top.

Her skin feels unholy, but I'm still drawn.

The morals I'm holding, you know they're gone.

Snapping her gaze up from the floor, she let Noah’s deep voice sink deep into her bones as she sucked in a breath.

No God, no religion.

Just bad, bad decisions.

No God, no religion.

Just bad, bad decisions.

“No,” she shuddered, remembering that night all those months ago in that hotel room.

It should have been a great memory. At the end of their evening that night, there was a feeling in her gut that said, “no,” due to the fears of the past and the weight of burdens others cast onto her. When she walked away from him in that hotel room, Y/N believed it was what started the downward spiral into the dark parts of her life.

You can be all I got, what's the difference?

Hennessy and a lot of bad decisions

All I know, all I know

Is bad, bad decisions

The image of Noah sitting in the airport the morning after was something Y/N tried so hard to forget. It haunted her for a long time after, all those days locked away in her bedroom as she talked with Keaton. In those times of darkness, he seemed to be the only one to give her an answer without ever speaking.

“I won’t walk away from him again, Keaton,” Y/N muttered while grasping the chain around her neck. “I’ll stay until morning.”

I'm only human, but I'm afraid.

I may never learn from all my mistakes.

Don't know what I'm doing but that's okay.

'Cause I like it that way.

Another feeling in her heart that said, “Yes.”

Noah wasn’t like anyone else, he claimed to be someone mundane, with nothing to offer when in fact, he offered her the entire world that night with just a smile and those shining auburn eyes.

Bitter ends to the nights.

I'm along for the ride.

Out of breath, out of time.

Everything has a price.

Bitter ends to the nights.

I'm along for the ride.

Out of breath, out of time.

Everything has a price.

When people choose to be brave in love instead of being the puppets of fear, everything seems to get better. It became gradual. Y/N decided to make the right choice, the one she believed in.

Pushing herself off the wall, she forced her way through the crowd ignoring people who tried to get her attention. The vision of Chase and Malcolm a few feet in front of her was her current target until the siren-like voice of Noah made her stop completely in the middle of the room.

I'm not afraid of the war you've come to wage against my sins.

I'm not okay, but I can try my best to just pretend.

Noah immediately sat straighter on the couch, nearly dropping the glass of water, as those lyrics rang out into the vast space of the room.

No, they were supposed to be together at this moment. Not far apart.

This was their song.

So will you wait me out?

Or will you drown me out?

So will you wait me out?

Or will you drown me out?

Everyone around Y/N faded to white noise as she stared blankly ahead toward Chase and Malcolm, who watched their sister with confused expressions. Something about the way Noah’s voice sang with so much emotion told her everything she needed to know.

This was their song.

I can wait for you at the bottom.

I can stay away if you want me to.

I can wait for years if I gotta.

Heaven knows I ain't getting over you.

Noah bolted up from the couch. “I need to find her.”

Michael and Orie shared a look before the former stood slowly. “Noah-.”

“NO!” His head snapped towards Michael. “We needed to be together for this song. It’s not-. It won't feel right unless she’s with me.”

Neither man made comments on the way Noah’s voice cracked, so close to breaking down. Instead, they nodded and agreed to help him find Y/N.

I know the pain that you hide behind the smile on your face.

And not a day goes by where I don't think I feel the same.

So many different memories flashed in Y/N’s mind as she let Noah’s voice sing to her; sing their song to her.

So will you wait me out

Or will you drown me out?

So will you wait me out

Or will you drown me out?

The first meeting when he stepped off the bus. Their day at the zoo and the wolf stuffed animal he bought her. The day at the beach where she told him it couldn’t rain all the time.

It seemed as if the rain had finally seized.

I can wait for you at the bottom

I can stay away if you want me to

I could wait for years if I gotta

Heaven knows I ain't getting over you

Y/N remembered her birthday and how Noah bought her the necklace and bracelet she was currently wearing.

We'll try again.

When we're not so different.

We will make amends.

'Til then I'll just pretend.

There was something there in the distorted part of the song, something that Y/N immediately caught and let out an audible gasp, hand covering her mouth. Another memory plagued her existence; the pier day.

“Noah! Stop!” She giggled while wrapping her arms around his neck.

“What?” Noah stopped spinning. “Let you go?”

Y/N shrieked as he nearly dropped her. “No, you idiot! Don’t let me go!”

Weigh down on me, stay 'til morning.

Way down, would you say I'm worthy?

“Sweets,” Chase tentatively approached Y/N, resting a hand on her elbow. “Are you alright?”

She shook her head, eyes brimming with tears, as she stared up at Malcolm and Chase while stumbling over her words. “I-I-I have to find Noah. I need to-I can’t.”

Malcolm nodded. “Ok, we will. Let’s split up and-.”

As if the stars were finally aligning in perfect harmony, something told Y/N to glance to her left, that pull in her heart she never ignored when it came to Noah vibrating with so much energy it made her choke on a breath.

Weigh down on me, stay 'til morning

Way down, would you say I'm worthy?

The music seized for a few seconds as Noah let out a choked breath when his amber eyes finally landed on her, their gazes locking. Everything and everyone seemed to fall away from them into the depths below their feet. His palms began to sweat as his ear rang loudly. His pulse rate quickened as his heart began to beat so hard he felt it in his throat.

Y/N and Noah were the only two that mattered at this moment and right when Folio’s drumming picked up again in the song, they pushed their way through the crowd toward each other.

I can wait for you at the bottom

I can stay away if you want me to

I could wait four years if I gotta

Heaven knows I ain't getting over you

Y/N couldn’t contain the tears anymore as she maneuvered her way past people who continued to try and get her attention. None of them mattered. The only one that did was now less than a few feet away from her; their souls vibrating for the connection it drastically missed.

We'll try again

When we're not so different

We will make amends

They were no longer different. Y/N and Noah grew immensely with their time apart and now they were finally ready to become one.

'Til then I'll just pretend.

There was no more pretending anymore. Every bad, good, ugly, and beautiful that these two went through was worth it for this moment. This is what all of their friends and they had been waiting for.

Weigh down on me, stay 'til morning

Way down, would you say I'm worthy?

Y/N would stay until morning; every morning.

Weigh down on me, stay 'til morning

Way down, would you say I'm worthy?

Noah was worthy.

READER

My heart was beating so fast in my chest that I could hear it in my ears and feel it in my throat when I came to a halt in front of Noah. Even though he looked different, he was still my Noah.

“Hi-.”

My greeting was cut off when his large hand wrapped behind my neck to yank me towards him, his lips crashing against mine. Very quickly, my hands grasped at his shirt to feel if he was actually in front of me and not another dream.

But his lips were real. The taste of his tongue was real as it forced its way into my mouth to mold against mine. I moaned into the kiss when his hands grasped at my backside as if he wanted to commit every last curve to memory. The other kisses we’ve shared were intense, but this was the kiss that sent my mind spinning. I moaned again, leaning into his embrace and meeting his passion. My teeth caught his bottom lip and tugged as I wrapped my arms around his neck, fingers playing with the ends of his hair and our bodies were pressed against each other.

The smell of his cologne, the soft and peachy scent of his conditioner was dizzying and the butterflies danced in my stomach.

When he nibbled on my bottom lip before devouring my mouth once again with his tongue, I couldn’t stop myself from grinding my hips into his. I missed every single part of him and my soul was screaming its thanks for finding its mate once again.

Noah’s lips were soft, almost silken, and pillowy against my own. They parted slightly, allowing my tongue to slip inside. I could faintly taste the mint from his toothpaste and apple cider he must have drank earlier.

My eyes were half closed and I had a feeling Noah's eyes were as well because of how focused this kiss was, as if he was burning it into his memory. Almost like he was afraid I would vanish; slip through his fingertips as they dug into the material of my dress.

No, never again.

Noah nudged his nose against mine, and our mouths fell lazily together, already soft and open. I could feel the soft tickle of his breath beneath my nose, fingers carding through his hair as we breathed each other in. I could taste our shared breath, and feel the thud of our combined heartbeat.

I wanted to open my eyes to get a better look at his too-dark eyebrows. The freckles that peppered his nose and cheeks. I needed to admire the new crazy, vampire hairline. I desperately wanted to observe all of him. Burn it into memory.

I recalled at that moment that this wasn’t the end. No, this was the beginning and I could always bear some witness. My mouth was beginning to tire.

Noah’s kisses were all-absorbing like he was drawing something out of me with soft little jabs of his chin. The stubble was gone, much to my dismay, and I ran my hands down over his broad chest, nails scraping along the silver chain across his neck, something I noticed when I finally pulled away and opened my eyes.

It mirrored the one that hung on my neck.

Peering up through my lashes, I was finally able to drink in the sight of Noah and his kiss-bruised lips. His pupils were blown wide as his large hand cupped my cheek, thumb brushing the lone tear that fell.

“Hi,” Noah breathed.

I couldn't help but giggle while wrapping my arms around him. “Hi.”

His eyes scanned my face while still holding my face. “You’re here. You’re real.”

“Were you expecting a ghost?” I teased with a raised brow.

“No, no I just-,” he trailed off with a shake of his head.

“I know,” I squeezed him. “I’m here.”

“Let’s go somewhere where we can talk?” Noah suggested.

“Please.”

I let him link our fingers together, bringing my hand to his lips to leave soft kisses against each knuckle before wrapping an arm around me to lead me outside. As if he couldn’t believe I was in his embrace, Noah kissed my cheek a few times, causing a fit of laughter to echo in the room.

I did my best to ignore Chase and Malcom when we walked past them, the latter handing the former some cash.

JESSE

Friends, friends of friends all disappeared, reappeared, made plans to go somewhere, and then lost each other, searched for each other, and found each other a few feet away.

Noah and Y/N broke apart from their kiss engulfed in one another.

What a man like Noah will store up in his ghostly heart no amount of fire or freshness can be challenged. He tried very hard not to dwell on the past but oftentimes found himself there. The past few months, I noticed my friend trying to move on from the stories that haunted him.

Noah wanted to recover something, some idea of himself perhaps, that had gone into loving Y/N, himself, and hell even the band. His life had been confused and disordered since I met him, yet a light and new spark of glory came breaking through that concrete surface.

I looked at them both as they took slow strides across the room, towards the glass doors that led to the back deck of The House of Blues. Noah was looking down at Y/N as she talked, her low, thrilling voice. It was the kind of voice that the ear followed up and down as if each speech was an arrangement of notes that would never be played again.

Y/N’s face was happy and lovely with bright things in it, bright eyes, and a bright passionate mouth. I could tell there was excitement in her voice by the way Noah was grinning from ear to ear, fingers tangling in her new locks.

He was so beautifully whipped and I couldn’t be more pleased. I fucking knew it would work out.

Glancing across the room towards our larger group of friends; our family and we all shared a nod and a smile.

Finally.

With that, I slunk off in the direction of the cocktail table, the only place in the garden where a single man could linger without looking purposeless and alone.

READER

As soon as we stepped outside, I tied my jacket closer to my chest while Noah led me to a bench. Once we were seated, his arm pulled me closer to him, his lips brushing along my hairline.

“I’ve missed you, angel.”

I leaned into him while grazing my fingers against the back of his neck. “I missed you too, Noah. I also love your haircut.”

He went rigid. “Are-are you sure? I know how much you loved the long hair but I felt like I needed to see the back of my neck again.”

I reassured him with a smile. “Don’t get me wrong, I think your long hair will always be my favorite but this is nice too. It suits you. Reminds me of Levi.”

“You caught that?” Noah chuckled.

“Oh immediately,” I brushed away the strands that fell into his eyes. “You know how much of a sucker I am for Captain Levi. But honestly, you look wonderful, mochi.”

He scrunched his face. “I still give off the mochi vibe for you?”

“You’re mochi, you will always be my little mochi,” I cooed while pinching his cheeks.

Noah grabbed my hands and brought them to his lips. “I don’t want to be called that, by anyone but you. Just you.”

“Good, because the nickname stays,” I smiled.

It was his turn to run his fingers through my hair, a faint smile pulling at his lips.

“You cut and dyed your hair?”

Now it was me who felt nervous being assessed by his eyes and I shifted next to him. “Yeah, I felt like I needed a change. I’m sorry if it’s not as flattering as before but I-”

He immediately hushed my words with a gentle kiss on my lips. “You look beautiful, Y/N.”

My hands were sprawled over his chest and it was then that I noticed the glimmer of a silver chain under the moonlight from above. I tilted my head at it when I noticed how familiar it looked.

“Wait,” I grasped his necklace. “Is this?”

“Uh, yeah,” Noah rubbed the back of his neck. “When I bought your set for your birthday, I bought myself a set as well. You’re wearing yours?”

Immediately I lifted my wrist to his face while showing the necklace with the other. “I haven’t taken them off since I found them in my dresser drawer. The day of my live stream.”

His fingers grazed down the side of my neck, over my collarbone to fiddle with my necklace. “I know. I noticed it right away.”

We sat in silence for a quick beat but I could tell something was weighing heavily on Noah’s mind, his eyes cast down to not meet my gaze. I lifted his chin with a knuckle to force him to look at me.

“What are you thinking about?” I wondered.

His almond eyes glistened. “I know you only heard a few of the songs so far but I need to be honest with you and apologize if some of these songs hit a nerve. I wrote a few of them when I was really upset. Bad Decisions especially.”

I linked our fingers together to rest them on my lap. “I know.”

“I needed to get through whatever we were doing and going through. I don’t want to upset you or anything.”

“No, Noah. You didn’t. I should have considered your feelings when I pushed you away that night. None of that was right, and I’m sorry it took so long for me to realize just how much you mean to me. I’ve always been yours, Noah, and I'm sorry I made you go through that.”

His brows furrow while shaking his head. “Angel, it’s not all on you. Listen, I’m moving past the anger and frustration. All the fear and panic. I’m trying to look at things more healthily. I accept your apology. It’s taken me a long time to come to terms. We both have had a lot to work through. I was talking to my therapist and she told me that acceptance of things we cannot change is the first step.“

“Wait,” I blinked while turning my body to face him. “Your therapist?”

“Uh, yeah,” he ran a hand over his chin, suddenly nervous.

“Noah, that’s amazing. I’m proud that you’re talking to someone. I am too. My therapist, Dr. Poulos, is wonderful. She’s been helping me a lot.”

Now it was him who blinked while shaking his head. “Hang on. What’s your therapist's name?”

I pursed my lips. “Dr. Poulos.”

“The small office on W. 9th Street? It has that new cafe next to it?”

I nodded slowly, still not understanding. “Yeah, I still have to try their coffee. But I’m not following.”

“Y/N, we've been seeing the same therapist,” Noah informed with a light chuckle.

My eyes widened. “No way.”

“I swear. She has that dying plant-.”

“On the shelf behind her chair!” I finished while pointing a finger, my own fit of giggles filtering into the night air.

“Do you think she knew that we were talking about each other?” Noah asked.

“She had to! There’s no way she didn’t,” I said, still laughing, and ended up leaning against the bench to gaze up at the stars. “It seemed the universe kept trying to keep us together in our time apart.”

Noah mimicked my actions. “I think so too.”

Neither of us said anything for a long moment, enjoying the quiet of the night air with the subtle noise from the party inside. Neither of us was in a rush to go back in, simply enjoying our time together.

“Can I be vulnerable with you right now?” I said suddenly, breaking the silence, while turning my head to face him.

Noah gazed over to me, eyes filled with love. “Always, angel.”

“She asked me why I loved you.”

His brows peaked with interest. “Oh, what did you tell her?”

I only thought about my answer for a brief moment, figuring out the best way to let out everything I feel about him. “I love you for many things; your passions, your love, your friendships, and brotherhood. Your beauty and nature. I despised the pain you went through.”

Sitting farther up, I traced my fingers over the exposed tattoos on his forearms. “I love you so deeply, so incredibly much, that I wanted to find a way to come back to you despite my condition, and past keeping me in fear.”

It was true. My endometriosis had hindered me for years. Trey made me believe that no man would stay with me because of it; especially Noah. He wanted a family and I was keeping him from that.

But never once did Noah make me feel that way. He made me feel as if he would be by my side no matter what we decide to do in the future.

I let out a shaky breath before continuing. “Ever since I was diagnosed with endometriosis, the fear of whether I'd ever be able to have kids kept me from finding the happiness I deserved. So I settled for what I thought I deserved until you came into my life.”

Noah’s fingers grazed over the back of my neck.

“You showed me that my condition doesn't have to mean the end for my future. I have choices. So thank you for that.”

He brushed his lips over my forehead and I grasped at his sides. “Of course, angel. Can I be honest with you?”

Peering up at him, I nodded. “Please.”

“Would kids be nice?” Noah licked his lips. “Yes. But if it’s not for us, then I’m okay with it. As long as I have you and Salem, then that’s all I need.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. “Because if I can’t give you a child, you might say you’re fine now but who knows years down the road.”

He cupped my cheeks now. “I promise you. You’re it for me, angel.”

Noah then brushed back the hair from my face, tracing a finger over my jawline before speaking again.

“You know, one of the things I discussed in therapy was how I believed I’ve spent every life before this one searching for you. Hoping that we would find each other again, and maybe the stars will have changed, and we will not only love each other in that time, but for all the times we’ve had before.”

I trailed a red nail down his chest. “You know, Malcolm also said something about our past lives.”

This piqued Noah’s interest as he gave me a smug smile. “Oh, yeah? Folio thought the same thing.”

“Of course, he would,” I snorted. “Did he also think you saved me from a burning building that was set on fire by my long-lost brother?”

Noah’s chest rumbled in laughter. “He said I fell in love with you after one wild night of sex and you came on the road with me.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that life. It probably would make a great story to read online,” I mused while leaning into him, allowing Noah to wrap his arm around my shoulder.

“I’m so happy you’re here tonight, angel. But I hope you know I’m not letting you leave here without me, right?” He muttered against the side of my head.

I wrapped my arms around his side to bury my face into his chest. “I wasn’t leaving without you. Even if you decided not to wait for me anymore.”

“There’s no universe where we aren't together, Y/N. We can’t outrun each other. I love you.”

With his long fingers lifting my chin, the softness of his lips molded against mine and a gentle but firm kiss. His tongue brushed over my bottom lip, asking permission before slipping inside. I moaned into it, reveling in his taste. Sparks shot off inside of me, igniting my cells with such heat, my pussy throbbed in anticipation.

“Stay the night with me?” Noah nibbled against my bottom lip

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” I breathed before devouring him once again.

NOAH

With Y/N’s hand in mind, I led her up the driveway towards the house, the sound of her heels clicking against the pavement.

She pulled me to a stop while groaning. “Hang on a second.”

“Everything alright?” I asked, worried that she was changing her mind and wanted to go home.

Bending at her knees, Y/N made quick work of taking off her heels.

“I suddenly remember why I hate wearing heels,” she groaned again. “My feet are killing me.”

Quickly, I scooped her up in my arms to carry her bridal style up the rest of the way to the front door.

“Noah,” she giggled. “I can walk.”

“You’re insane if you think you’re going to walk in the dirt then on my clean floors,” I joked.

Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically. “You’re such a clean freak.”

Ignoring her comment, I reached into my pocket awkwardly to reach for my keys and unlocked the door. My mind was working in overdrive on how to make the rest of our night perfect.

Would she like the house?

Would she appreciate what I’ve done in my room for her?

Would she actually stay?

Stepping over the threshold, I set her down gently in the dark room before clicking on the light, allowing Y/N to take in the fresh scenery.

“Oh wow,” she muttered while looking at me over her shoulder. “It’s a lovely place, Noah.”

I did my best to smile through my nerves and ran a hand through my hair. “Did you want something to drink? If you want a beer, I’m sure one of the guys won’t mind if you take one of theirs. I actually don't drink anymore.”

“You don’t?” She asked.

“No,” I now rubbed the back of my neck. “I’m actually sober. I have been for the last few weeks. I had to, for a few reasons, but it was something I wanted to do.”

Y/N walked into my embrace, wrapping her arms around me, and laid her chin on my chest as she looked up at me.

“I’m proud of you, Noah. I know it might not have been easy and it still may not be. But I’m proud of all your accomplishments. And I’m happy to be by your side for it.”

I kissed her forehead. “Come on, I think I have a Dr. Pepper in the fridge.”

“Oh no. If I have any more caffeine I’ll be a jittery mess. I’m fine right now. Why don’t you show me around?”

Nodding, I spent the next while showing her around the house, upstairs first to where the guy's rooms and the studio were. It was when we were back downstairs and in the open space of the living room and kitchen that she paused while pointing to the large cat tree opposite the large bay window.

“Who has a cat?”

My cheeks flushed as I shifted on my feet. “It’s for Salem. I thought it would be nice for him the next time I have to watch him when you’re out of town or something.”

“You didn’t have to do that, Noah,” she said with a shaky breath.

I could see the tears welling in her eyes but made no mention of it. Instead, I linked our hands together and kissed the back of hers. “I know but I wanted to.”

“I like the couch,” she nodded towards it; the large evergreen sectional.

I smiled wildly. “Thanks, it’s a dope couch. I’d been wanting something like this for a while.”

“So,” she cleared her throat. “Are you going to show me your bedroom?”

“Trying to get me into bed already, angel,” I mused while yanking her into my embrace.

Her hair flew behind her shoulders with the sudden pull and she held herself up by her one hand on my chest, the other still locked with mine.

“I’m tired,” she shrugged. “It’s been a long day.”

Smiling at her joke, I lightly dragged her down the hallway towards the master suite but she stopped in front of a closed door.

“What’s this room?”

My face twitched. “Oh, just storage space.”

She narrowed her eyes, almost seeing through my life. “Storage space? You sure you’re not creating a room for all your awards and nominations are you?”

“Ha ha,” I mocked while booping her nose. “Very funny my little flower but that’s a no.”

Y/N was taken aback. “Did you just boop my nose?”

“I did, you have a cute nose,” I shrugged as if it was nothing.

The memory of our hike that one morning when she said the same thing to me fluttered in my mind and I smiled fondly at it.

“Now if I’m not mistaken, I was the one that said you had a cute nose.”

She tried to boop my nose but instead, I grabbed her wrist and spun her to face the other door across the hall.

“Do you want to see my bedroom or not?” I wondered.

“Very much,” she leaned her head against my shoulder as I guided her through the door.

We stood in utter darkness, our breathing sounding so loud in the enclosed space, as I brushed my nose along her neck to breathe in her familiar scent. It made my cock twitch in my pants and I internally groaned, wanting to envelope myself into her.

“Do you guys always sit in the dark or what?”

Stepping away from her, reluctantly, I clicked on the light of the room, Y/N’s loud gasp echoing. She brought her hand to her mouth as she took in every inch of the bedroom.

The large king-sized bed with the sage green duvet blanket and six pillows. The burnt orange throw blanket was thrown haphazardly on. Lined on the wall behind the headboard were the LED lights casting the room in a faint red glow.

The large walk-in closet that only one side was filled with clothes and shoes, the other side bare; waiting to be filled.

The plants littered almost every inch of the shelves of my bookshelves and end tables on either side of the bed.

But when Y/N’s eyes landed on the vanity in front of the window that overlooked the small creek in the backyard, I noticed her breath catch. It still had a few of the figurines I bought her and empty containers, waiting to be filled to the brim with her products.

“What’s this?” She gazed over at me.

I stuffed my hands into my pockets. “It’s your vanity table. I didn’t buy you a chair yet because I wanted you to try ones out that you’ll like. I figured you’d be sitting there while you do your hair and makeup so you’d want to be comfortable. And I didn’t bother buying products cause I don’t know what works best for you. So I figured we could go shopping and you can buy whatever you want or need when you’re here. That way you don’t have to lug everything back and forth.”

“Noah,” her voice trailed off.

“Chase and Malcolm told me that you have all your products jammed into a suitcase so I got you the biggest one that would fit in this space,” I said while running my hand on the dark surface to brush away the nonexistent dust.

“They knew about this?” Y/N asked as she fumbled with one of the skulls.

It had a crow resting on it with red flowers.

Then she picked up the Valak figure, the faintest of smiles on her gorgeous face.

“Yeah. They told me a few things but a lot I remembered from what you already have in your bedroom. I wanted you to feel like you have a place here, angel,” I spoke.

She, however, hadn’t said much and it began to make me worry. Maybe I did too much. Pushed her somehow with everything.

“If it’s too much, I can-.”

“No!” Y/N whirled her head to me. “It’s not. I love it so much. I just don’t know what to say because no one has ever done something like this for me before.”

I grasped her hips, peering down at her through the few strands of hair that fell into my face. “I’m going to take care of you, angel. No matter what. You deserve all of this and more.”

She hastily wiped away the few stray tears before leaving a gentle kiss on my cheek.

“Thank you for this, Noah. Truly. I love you.”

My thumb caught a tear that fell. “Anything for you. Come on, I want to show you one more thing.”

With my hand on her lower back, I guided her out through the patio doors in my bedroom onto the secluded deck. We had one that wrapped around the back and side of the house but this one was only accessible through my bedroom. The sound of the running creek and crickets played like music as we leaned against the railing.

“Every morning, I come out here with my coffee or tea, and either read a book or meditate. I let the sun hit my face and enjoy the solace. Something I never used to have much of before,” I explained while crossing my arms over my chest.

Y/N rested her head against my shoulder. “That sounds lovely Noah, I’m comforted knowing that helps you and that you can do that for your peace.”

“You could do it too,” I suggested.

She hummed. “I could, but you know that small patio back at my apartment is not ideal for sitting outside and sunbathing.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “Well, you’re always welcome to just stroll right over here to use this one. What’s mine is yours you know.”

“Like I won’t be here all the time anyways,” Y/N snorted while playfully smacking my arm.

“You’re right,” I chuckled.

A sudden chill brushed over us which caused her to shiver so I motioned for us to go back inside. She sat on the edge of the bed with a content look crossing her features.

“How did you get lucky to get the master bedroom with that shower?” She wondered while throwing a thumb over her shoulder.

“We flipped a coin,” I joked while plopping beside her.

It was nearing midnight and exhaustion was aching deep in my bones but I wasn’t ready to go to sleep yet. I wanted every waking moment with Y/N.

I ran my finger down the exposed skin of her back, tracing the lines of her snake tattoo. My eyes were drawn to the ivory river that gently caressed its way down her neck, reaching just below her shoulder blades. If the gods are real then this woman is their masterpiece.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

“No,” she tapped her chin in mock thought. “I don’t think you have.”

“Well, you look stunning, angel,” I kissed her shoulder.

She had a kind of understated beauty, perhaps it was because she was so disarmingly unaware of her prettiness.

“I was told the theme was red, though,” she teased while pulling at my shirt.

With a smirk, I lifted my pant leg to showcase the long red socks I’d been wearing all night. Y/N peered down at them, carefully studying the black symbols.

“Those symbols are on Salem's collar and they were showcased tonight,” her eyes lit up when she remembered.

“Surprise?” I shrugged.

“Do they have meaning?”

I pointed to each symbol. “Death. Peace. Mind.”

“The Death of Peace of Mind,” she uttered the name of our album. “Oh wow, I love that, mochi.”

When her bright eyes gazed up at me, I cupped her cheek to lay a kiss on her lips, slow and sensual. When I pulled away for a brief moment, I marveled at her beauty. Alluringly, Y/N would blink her eyes from time to time, allowing her eyelashes to flutter like the wings of an actual angel.

By Venus, her eyes were simply spellbinding.

With my lips on hers again, I let my tongue explore her mouth while I leaned her back on the bed. One had caressed her cheek while the other ran down her side before resting on her hip. Y/N hooked her leg around mine in a way to lock me in and her nails scratched at the skin of my stomach, underneath my shirt. I shivered with her angelic touch, moaning into her mouth as our tongues continued the fight for dominance.

Y/N tasted just the same but there was no possible way I’d ever get sick of it. I drank her in, reveled in the way her lips molded against mine, and when I broke apart from her to start leaving kisses from her jaw to her neck, she sucked in a breath when I began sucking on the sensitive area just underneath her ear.

I pressed my hips into her, my cock fucking aching in my pants, and I knew she felt it because Y/N let out a harsh moan; my name falling off her sweet lips.

However, when my hand slipped between the slit of her dress, her warm skin underneath my fingertips, she gently pushed me away.

“Wait,” she spoke with a small waver in her voice.

“Did I do something wrong?” I asked, suddenly worried.

“No, no, you’re fine, Noah. It’s just-”

Y/N sat up on her elbows which made me lean back on my knees so I could gaze down at her. Fuck, she looked beautiful with her flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips. There was a faint red mark on her neck and my dick twitched with the excitement of marking what was mine.

“I have to talk to you about something,” she blew a strand of hair from her face.

I gave her a small nod, urging her on.

Y/N licked her lips while taking a deep breath. “I know this is a moment and this is something we’ve been waiting for, for a while. But I don’t want us to rush into full-on sex tonight. I’m sorry if that’s not what you wanted.”

She continued to ramble on so I hushed her worries with a kiss to her lips, nibbling on her bottom lip. “No angel, no. I’m just so happy to have you with me at all. All I want is you. My love for you isn’t based on sex. I don’t mind waiting for you, I will always wait for you.”

Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth as Y/N eventually nodded. I lowered myself once again, this time farther down.

“Can I?” I hovered over her pussy, warm breath fanning over the material of her red dress.

She raised her hips off the bed towards my face. “Please.”

With her permission, I lifted her from the bed to stand on her feet. My hands snaked up behind her to unzip her dress, it falling to her feet in a pool of fabric. I took a step back so I could gaze upon her. Y/N stood in front of me in nothing but her red lace thong and I licked my lips hungrily at the sight of her. Her muscle definition was perfect and she glowed with a newfound confidence. Y/N wasn’t just flawless in her bone structure but her skin was like silk over glass and she radiated an intelligent beauty.

“Noah.”

My eyes snapped away from admiring her body to her face. “Hm?”

“I love you,” she admitted while taking off her panties.

My heart swelled in my chest and I let out a long breath. “I love you too, Y/N.”

Gently laying her back onto the bed, I settled myself between the valley of her legs and my nostrils flared when the scent of her filled the room. The red hue from the neon lights behind my bed bathed her in an incandescent glimmer. My angel. The scarlet shade emulates her place in my heart where she flourishes.

Now kneeling on the floor, I wrapped my hands around Y/N’s legs to drag her down towards me, her squeals echoing off the walls of my bedroom.

Our bedroom.

Her nails raked through my hair, urging me closer. I darted my eyes up towards her one final time before devouring her completely. My tongue licked up her entire slit, Y/N hissing in pleasure, and I licked the sensitive nub over and over. Hiking her leg over my shoulder, I spread her wider for me so I could spear my tongue between her folds.

Fuck, I missed the way she tasted.

“Noah,” she moaned.

I lapped up her essence hungrily, like a man starved. The tangy sweetness made me moan in delight as I replaced my tongue with a finger, pumping in and out, then wrapped my lips around her clit to suck.

“Fu-fuck. Shit,” Y/N writhed against the comforter.

One hand was still tangled in my hair while the other grasped at the pillow behind her, her arm extended up over her head.

“Close, Noah, Holy shit” she muttered passionately.

Y/N gripped my hair pushing my head even harder- in an effort to get me closer, if at all possible. I pushed my tongue and fingers deeper inside her, almost feeling like I might split her in half. Her knees shook as she all but yanked on my hair now, her body going rigid. Her pussy pulsed in my mouth as the first waves of her orgasm began to build.

I hummed in approval with how she tasted but I needed more; I needed all of her.

“Noah, I’m gonna-.”

With a gentle pat to the inside of her thigh, I made my fingers work faster while my tongue teased her clit before scrapping my teeth against it; that being exactly what she needed to finally let herself go.

I gazed upon her perfect, naked form, her skin glistening with a sensual sweat. She was stunning. Something radiated from within that rendered her irresistible, and I was more than thankful to be between her thighs, tasting her again. My eyes caught sight of the new ink on her right thigh. The design was of a tattooed arm and hand holding a black rose. After her favorite nothing, nowhere album.

Reaper.

A fool says there was no god. I was no fool. She was an altar to me and I was here to worship.

The cries of her orgasms sounded like a pure melody as I licked and finger fucked Y/N through the aftershocks. My cock was pressing against the confines of my pants and I palmed myself to relieve some of the ache.

She patted my head and I finally pulled away from her to lick up her arousal from my lips and then from my fingers. Humming in approval, I hovered over her and buried my face in the crook of her neck.

“Fuck, Y/N. I missed how you tasted,” I groaned, nipping at the skin of her collarbone.

“I missed that,” she said breathlessly.

My finger brushed over her clit and she shook in overstimulation. “Noah, I can’t.”

I shook my head. “Yes, you can, angel. I want at least four out of you.”

Y/N turned her head towards me, her eyes blown wide with lust and her chest rising and falling with each deep breath. “Four?”

I nodded eagerly while slipping a finger inside of her. “I’ve waited so long to have you again, Y/N.”

She moaned while arching her back off the bed, her walls clamping around my fingers as I slipped another one inside. Now with two fingers, I worked her close to another orgasm as my tongue teased and teeth pulled on one of her nipples.

“Cum for me, angel. Be a good girl and fall apart on my fingers,” I demanded before dragging my tongue between the valley of her breasts.

Her second orgasm ripped through her with no warning and I let her ride it out against my palm, praising her with sweet whispers in her ear. I brought my fingers to my lips, licking them clean as Y/N watched with wide eyes.

“So fucking good,” I mused before crashing my lips to hers.

I was aching, my cock practically screaming at me for some sort of release, but it wasn't about me right now. It was about Y/N.

As I went back to working on the mark on her neck I started earlier, I rearranged ourselves so now I was sitting against the headboard of the bed with Y/N lazily sitting on my thigh. I knew she was exhausted but I also knew that she had at least one more in her.

“Noah,” she whined. “I can’t.”

I brushed away the sweat-stuck hair from her forehead so I could gaze upon her. “Yeah, you can. I know you can. Soak my thigh, angel.”

I was so far gone in my own lust for her; my love for her, that I was about to bust at the seams.

“I don’t see how it's fair,” Y/N pouted. “You still have your clothes on.”

I smirked and kissed the corner of her lips. “Soon.”

With a bruising grip on her hips, I began to guide her back and forth against my thigh; her arousal from her two previous orgasms already soaking my pants. The warmth of her made me revel in delight as I leaned my head against the headboard so I could watch Y/N.

She arched her back, her tits in full display in front of me, and she tilted her head up towards the ceiling, lips parting in a silent moan. As she continued to rub her pussy against my thigh, Y/N’s hands slipped underneath my shirt to yank it up over me, tossing it to the floor.

The cool breeze from the overhead ceiling fan cooled my heated skin and her nails scratched at the tattoos on my chest. Her mouth immediately attached to the divot of skin between my neck and shoulder, teeth nipping before soothing the pain with her tongue.

“Shit,” I hissed in pleasure.

This orgasm was silent but just as powerful as Y/N’s body went stiff in my embrace, my arms locking around her to press our bare chests against each other.

“Good girl,” I praised with a kiss to the side of her head, her body going limp in my embrace.

READER

Noah’s arms wrapped around me from behind as he buried his face into the back of my neck, breathing me in. While I was still naked, he was only wearing his red briefs. He lost his pants right after I finished cumming all over his thigh.

For the last little while, we had been resting in each other's arms, enjoying the silence that fell between us. I enjoyed the way I felt his chest against my back, his deep breaths almost lulling me to sleep but I refused to succumb to the darkness yet. I wanted more time with him.

“I’ve missed the way you tasted, angel,” he laid a kiss on my shoulder and sighed in content. “I’ve been dreaming about this a long time. All I want to do is give you the pleasure you deserve. I love you.”

I turned over in his arms so I could face him and pressed a small kiss to his chin. “I love you too.”

When I went to pull away from him, Noah pouted and reached for me. “Hey, where are you going?”

I patted his chest. “Don’t worry. I’m not leaving.”

Wrapping my leg around his hips, I now straddled him and linked our fingers together to hold his hands above his head. I licked and kissed my way from his forehead to his cheek, down his neck, and across the tattoo on his chest.

“Two can play at this you know,” I muttered.

Noah made a low noise in the back of his throat. “I like it when you’re bossy.”

“As you’ve proven,” I teased while gazing up at him. “I owe you for all those wonderful orgasms you’ve given me.”

Letting go of his hands, I dragged myself down the length of him to rest just above his cock which was barely being confined by his briefs. I hooked my fingers in the waistband and slowly dragged them down his long legs to toss them over my shoulder.

I now gazed upon the colorful designs that littered almost every single inch of Noah’s skin. His cock was almost standing straight and I licked my lips hungrily at the sight of the beads of precum that dripped down his length. For months, I dreamed of the last of it; of him.

Noah noticed the way I titled my head at him, eyes darkening.

“Y/N, you don’t have-. Oh, shit!”

He groaned in pleasure when I lapped up the precum, humming in delight, before sinking my mouth over his entire length. My tongue pressed against the base of his cock as I moved my head up and down, slow at first to take my time.

“Oh fuck,” Noah huffed out my name as he gripped the blanket beneath him.

I continued to suck him sloppily for a few moments before taking all of him deep in my throat. His hands grasped behind my head to keep me steady, hips bucking up into me. I dug my nails into his thighs as tears burned in the corners of my eyes, drool dripping from my lips but I refused to let up even a half an inch. I concentrated on breathing through my nose while gliding my tongue up and down.

The head of his cock was buried at the back of my throat and I ignored my gag reflex, not wanting to think of it. I dared a peek up at him, noticing that his head was arched back onto the pillow, his eyes closed, my name falling from those sinful lips in prayer. Sweat gathered at his forehead, dark tendrils sticking to him, and I knew that it wouldn’t be long with the grunts he was making.

My fingers played with his balls as I began moving my head up and down at a fast pace now, wanting nothing more than to get him to finish; and revel in his own orgasm.

“I’m gonna cum, Y/N. Oh fuck,” Noah warned.

Suddenly, warm spurts of cum shot to the back of my throat and I mewled in delight as I swallowed every last drop of him, coming off of his cock with a loud pop. I wiped the drool from my chin with the back of my hand as Noah brushed away the hair from his face, trying to catch his breath.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

I nodded with a giggle. “Agreed.”

His hand reached up to brush his tongue along my bottom lip. “Thirsty?”

“Yes, please”

With a gentle pat on my thigh, I climbed off of Noah and climbed underneath the blanket and black sheets while he slipped on his briefs before leaving the room. I heard rummaging around in the kitchen.

I quickly glanced at my phone to notice a missed text from Malcolm and a few from the Hollow Souls group chat.

Malcolm: Don’t worry. I’ll feed Salem tonight and in the morning. Have fun and be safe. We love you, sweets.

With a fond smile, I replied to him before clicking on the Hollow Omens text thread.

Chase: Jolly, where are you? If you guys need a ride to our place, we’re out front.

Nicholas: He’s coming. Jesse and Michael got caught up with an old friend.

Michael: Hey, what are the chances we can swing by home to grab some extra clothes?

Jesse: Unless you want to walk into something you can’t unsee, I’d suggest against it.

Jolly: Has anyone checked to see if Noah and Y/N made it home safely?

Folio: I don’t think they’re too worried about their phones right now.

I snorted a chuckle before responding.

Me: Hi, friends. Noah and I made it home safely. Whoever sleeps in my room, make yourself at home! Just don’t look under the bed 😉

Not bothering to wait for a reply, I locked my phone and set it down on the nightstand next to the bed just as Noah returned with two glasses of water and a pack of chocolate chip cookies.

My eyes lit up. “Oh, yes! It’s like you read my mind.”

“Just a little bedtime snack,” Noah winked while handing me the water and a few cookies.

“I’m surprised you’re letting me eat in your bed,” I mumbled over a bite of cookie.

He settled himself next to me. “You’re the only exception because this would typically be a no.”

Waving him off, I finished the cookies then washed them down with half of the water and settled into bed while Noah browsed for a show to watch on the televisions. As I traced my gaze over every inch of him, studying him, I noticed something on his back.

My hand gently pushed his shoulder forward. “Woah. When did you get this?”

I traced the ink that covered the entirety of his back. It was just an outline of Jesus with the crown of thorns. There was some kind of border around it, a flower and leaves on each of his shoulder blades along with his lower back. Beneath Jesus, was a heart with barbed wire around it, a flame cross emanating from the top of it.

“I got it done a few weeks ago,” Noah answered, shivering underneath my touch as goosebumps rose to his skin.

I hummed a kiss into his back. “I never took you as the religious type.”

“I find religious art beautiful,” He leaned down to brush his lips over mine, a kiss I eagerly returned. “Besides, I don’t need God, no religion. Just you.”

After shutting off the lights and settling on a random movie, we cuddled deeper into the comforts of the bed, my head resting on his chest with my leg wrapped around his hips. Noah’s hand dragged up and down my back and I sighed in pure bliss.

He held me gently as if he were holding a flower and I wished we could have stayed like this forever.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” I mumbled my thoughts out loud.

“We can if you want,” he offered while leaving a kiss on the top of my head.

“We have to leave this room at some point,” I poked him.

Noah chuckled, it rumbling underneath my cheek on his chest. “True, but it’s not the room I was talking about.”

Gazing up at him, I cupped his cheek. “You’re already my forever, Noah. I learned that a long fucking time ago.”

He left a kiss on the inside of my palm. “Are you okay if we sleep together?”

I didn’t miss the hesitation in his voice so I sat up in bed, the sheet falling from my naked form. “I’m staying, Noah. There’s no place I’d rather be than right here with you. There is nowhere else I belong, nowhere.”

Noah dragged his hands over his face to muffle the faint sound of a sniffle. Gently, I pulled his hands away from his face and noticed a faint tear roll down his cheek.

“Noah, why are you crying? I’m right here. This is you and me, right?”

He sniffled again but cleared his throat soon after. “I guess after all this time, it still sort of doesn’t feel real.”

I nodded while pulling my knees to my chest, resting my chin upon them. “I can understand that, I feel that way too. But it is real. It’s you and me. I’m not going anywhere and neither are you. I love you.”

“I love you,” he sat up in bed to kiss me. “It’s you and me, angel.”

“Have any clothes for me to borrow?” I asked while biting my lip.

As much as I loved feeling his bare skin on mine, I could not sleep naked.

Noah motioned to the closet. “Help yourself to whatever. What’s mine is yours.”

Hopping off the bed, I scurried into the closet to scavenge through his drawers, not trying to gawk at the size of the closet. After deciding on his Naruto eating noodles shirt and gray joggers, I stepped back into the bedroom.

“Are you wearing my joggers and shirt?” Noah stifled a laugh.

“You said help yourself, so I did,” I smirked while hopping back into bed.

“Angel, I have to say you look ravishing in my clothes even if you look like a fucking pipsqueak in them.”

“It’s not my fault you’re fucking giant! I had to roll up the joggers three times!” I defended while pushing his shoulder.

Noah raised a brow before rolling on top of me, pinning my hands above my head with one of his while the other ghosted over my side. Immediately I knew what he was going to do.

“Don’t,” I warned. “I can’t be held liable for what happens if you tickle me.”

He narrowed his eyes, thinking it over, before he instead plopped down next to me, resting his head on my chest. I wrapped my arms around him to drag my fingers through his hair.

“This was all I wanted,” Noah admitted after a long beat of silence, wrapping his arms around me to pull himself closer.

“Me too, mochi. I feel like I’m home,” I admitted, eyes suddenly heavy with exhaustion.

I yawned, which made Noah turn the television off before returning to his position of being the little spoon.

“You are home, angel. Wherever I am is your home.”

NOAH

Leaning on my elbow, I gazed down at the sleeping form of Y/N, soft snores falling from her lips as her hair was covering her face. I brushed it away with soft fingers and let my mind wander to last night.

She was here. She was with me, in my bed, and had no intention of leaving. For so long I’ve wanted this, dreamed of it, and now that it's actually true, my anxiety kept trying to tell me that she would end up slipping between my fingers.

My breathing suddenly became erratic, feeling as if someone had their claws sunk deep in my lungs, and white spots danced at the edge of my vision.

Shit. Shit. Not now.

Making sure Y/N was still asleep, I slipped out from beneath the covers and stepped into a pair of shorts and grabbed my phone on my way out the patio doors of my bedroom. The fresh scent of the morning dew that covered the grass filled my nostrils as I did my best to take deep breaths.

I sat cross legged on the deck and with the Calm app open on my phone, I let the familiar sounds of one I usually opted for sink deep within me. My eyes shut as I took countless deep breaths.

Deep breath in. Hold for four seconds. Out for two seconds.

I envisioned Y/N’s soft features of her face. Her bright eyes as I drowned in the color of them. The faint freckles that seemed to over cover her nose. The slight dip between her upper lip. The one dimple on her left cheek that was always prominent whenever she smiled.

Fuck, her smile was one that could light up a room. It was one that made all your problems go away when you gazed upon it.

Holding her in my arms is more natural to me than my own heartbeat. Even now, when I’m sitting here, I think about her. I think about her all the time. Some may say that we’re too young, I just know deep inside the flesh of me, there could never be another.

I was so entranced in my meditation that I didn’t hear the sliding glass door open until two arms wrapped around my neck from behind, soft lips pressing kisses to my cheek.

“Good morning, mochi,” Y/N’s angelic voice sang in my ears.

I grasped her arm with a sigh and opened one eye to peek over at her. “Morning, angel.”

This is real. This is my new routine.

She fell into my lap, locking her arms behind my neck again and kissed me. My hands rested on her hips to keep her within my embrace, not wanting to let her go any time soon.

“Did you sleep okay?” She asked.

I nodded and lifted her chin with a knuckle. “Best sleep I’ve had in a long time.”

“I must say you outdid yourself with that bed. Perfect amount of pillows and the sheets are comfortable,” Y/N mused while playing with the ends of my hair.

“Only the best for you, angel,” I smugly smiled. “But listen, there’s something I want to bring up.”

“Yeah? What is it?”

I took a deep breath. “This weekend, I want us to have our first official date.”

Her eyes lit up. “Noah, I’d love that. But I just need to make sure to check my schedule.”

“Nope, already taking care of,” I snaked my hand underneath her shirt to graze over the soft skin of her back. “Malcolm and Chase said that you have nothing planned. So this weekend, you’re all mine.”

“I’m always yours, Noah,” she promised with a kiss to the side of my mouth.

With my heart solely in her hands now, I nuzzled my face into the crook of her neck, breathing her in.

“Yes you are.”

Our lips met in a gentle, slow kiss, but when Y/N adjusted herself to fully straddle my lap, I forced my tongue into her mouth and tasted all of her. My nails dug into the skin of her back to hold her closer to me and when she rutted her hips into me, I could feel the heat from her core brush against my hard cock.

I needed her so badly, in any way I could. But for now, I simply enjoyed having her grind against my lap as we sat on the deck, lips attaching to one another. The sun broke through the clouds to warm our already heated skin and with her body on mine and the sound of the running water of the creek, it lulled me into a state of peace that the Calm app couldn’t do for me earlier.

“I love you,” her teeth grazed over my bottom lip.

I grasped the side of her neck, thumb locked on her chin. “I love you too, angel.”

Our tongues began another fight for dominance, her winning this round again, but I never would complain. Y/N could do whatever she wanted with me and I’d still worship the ground she walked on.

“Noah,” she whined, rubbing her pussy over my cock, the thin material of our clothes still causing a barrier between us.

“What do you want, Y/N?” I demanded while nipping at the skin of her neck.

“You,” she gasped when my fingers slipped inside the waistband of her pants.

Fuck, she was soaking wet. My fingers glided over her pussy, gathering her arousal to begin rubbing fast, short circles against her clit.

The sounds of birds singing their morning songs were drowned out by Y/N’s moans, resting her forehead against my bare shoulder, and she bucked into my hand.

“So wet,” I praised, still working fast on her clit.

“I’m so close.”

With her still in my embrace, I stood and carried her back into my bedroom, slowing my pace on her clit immensely.

“Noah,” she groaned. “Why’d you stop?”

Forcing her against the wall, I let Y/N wrap her legs around me just before I attacked her lips in a fever hungry kiss. Now it was me who won the battle for dominance and I forced my tongue into her mouth, ravaging her lips.

“I need to taste you again, Y/N. Need it on my lips,” I grunted while pushing us off the wall and over towards the bed.

Her giggles echoed loudly in the room as she bounced and I jumped on after her.

JOLLY

With a big yawn, I walked into the house with Jesse and Michael close behind. We all spent the night at Chase and Malcolm’s place but now that it was nearing mid morning, we decided it was safe to come back home.

“I don’t know about you guys,” Michael groaned as he rummaged in the fridge, “But I need another couple hours of sleep.”

I snorted my laughter. “What, did Salem keep you up all night?”

“I don’t understand how that little dude has all that energy. Running up and down their long hallway all night. I swore you’d think they had a pet horse,” he exasperated.

Jesse went to say something but he quickly pointed to the kitchen window. “Look.”

We did and I couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Y/N was sitting on one of the patio chairs with a blanket wrapped around her and a book in her lap. I peered down the hallway where Noah’s bedroom was just as he stepped out, dressed in a pair of black shorts and his Hereditary sweater. Water still clung to his hair as he stepped out into the living room.

“Oh, hey. When did you guys get back?” He asked.

Sharing a glance with the others, all three of us wrapped Noah in a large group hug, finally happy that all the bullshit the last few months was finally worth it.

“Alright, alright,” Noah pushed us away when Jesse began ruffling his hair.

“She looks peaceful out there, I’d say what you were so worried about resolved itself,” Jesse chuckled at first.

He sat on the couch to put on his white socks then white vans. “Yeah. We had a good night. Are you guys cool if she stays?”

I grasped his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “You know we’re more than okay with that. She’s welcome here anytime, Noah.”

Just then, the sliding glass door in the kitchen opened as Y/N stepped through, wearing Noah’s clothes, and gave us all a warm smile.

“Hi!” She cheered. “I was thinking about making some breakfast if you guys are hungry.”

Just then a thought crossed my mind and I ran a hand through my hair. “Actually, I was thinking we could go out for breakfast. I know this great place.”

Noah chuckled while rising from the couch and immediately pulling Y/N into his arms, leaving a kiss to the side of her head.

“Any reason why you want to go there?” He teased me.

I narrowed my eyes as Y/N smacked his chest. “Noah, be nice. But I’d love that! I just need to run home quickly and I can meet you there!”

Michael tossed her her car keys since he drove it over here for her. “Count me out. Your cat kept me up all night with his galloping and biting my toes.”

“Oh, you leave my baby alone,” Y/N pointed a finger at him as he began walking up stairs to his bedroom.

“I’m in,” Jesse smiled. “Give me a little bit to change.

When it was now the three of us, I couldn't help but watch with a smile as Noah walked Y/N to the door, muttering something low in her ear, a red hue creeping across her cheeks.

“I love you, angel,” he brushed a kiss across her forehead.

She grasped his sides, leaning into the kiss. “I love you too, mochi.”

They were not the same people they were when they met. They’ve changed, they’ve grown.

I felt joyous, for this reunion. This is proof that love can exist. The sun has long since risen, the thief of night would come quickly. I stared at my friends, who desperately could not disconnect. I was just so glad. I smiled with a crinkling mouth, and pure heat enveloped my heart for them.

I began to wander in the corner of my own daydream. I couldn’t wait to live a lifetime in these last remaining moments of my own.

Her face came into my mind.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #enemies to lovers #right person wrong time #tina and sarah talks

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wasabi-gumdrop · 1 month

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thinking about modern au Kabru

ivy league college student, probably studying law and political science on a full scholarship. first time living away from Milsiril so he has to promise her, yes mom i’ll call you at least four times a week, no mom i don’t need your amex black card, yes mom the normal credit card is fine i need to learn how to budget like a Normal Person (it has a limit of $20k — that’s not normal Kabru).

Milsiril insists for a long time that she’ll just get him a house off campus so he can have his own space (aka a place she can drop by anytime and possibly live a few months out of the year just to be close to him) but Kabru puts his foot down and tells her the best way he’s gonna make friends is by living with other students (bye mom).

his floor in the coed dorms is the party floor and he always makes sure to invite everybody (his nightmare is accidentally leaving anyone out and having them think that he doesn’t like them). somehow it’s always a good time, everyone leaves with more friends than they came with, it never gets totally out of control, and plenty of girls who are interested in him (and a lot of guys too tbh) bring tons of baked treats so there’s always free food. Kabru is the RA’s favourite person to have in the building (even though Kabru himself is messy but most of the people he’s friends with are nice and clean up after themselves).

he has a porsche (Milsiril gift for his 16th bday) but he’s adamant about not driving it unless he absolutely has to (because he doesn’t wanna look like a douche). BUT he never says no when his friends ask for rides (so he ends up driving all the time anyway). he actually contemplates selling the porsche and going for a more practical car but Mickbell is like ‘dude you are not taking this away from me.’ Kabru sighs and decides to keep it because his friends (Mickbell) like being chauffeured around in a fancy convertible (Rin, Holm, and Dia don’t care, they’re just glad they don’t have to walk to the grocery store).

he’s probably on a casual texting basis with most of his professors and you know he’s going to all their office hours, grabbing beer with them just to keep chatting about life outside of school. and that’s how he winds up in some super secret faculty group chat where he’s now privy to all the college administration gossip.

Kabru is elected for student council during his freshman year and he’s probably the favourite to be sc president one day.

he doesn’t really date (gets too in his head about how he doesn’t wanna ruin any friendships) but he does hang out one on one with a lot of girls and treats them all really well. he probably goes so far out of his way to be platonic that he flies a little too close to the ‘Just Like One of the Girlies’ sun, he kinda forgets that most people interpret it as flirting coming from him. which leads to a few awkward conversations. people feeling led on, a few angry jealous boyfriends, scathing dms about him being a girl stealing homewrecker.

it’s such a nightmare for him and he needs it to end right now. so he begs Rin to ‘date’ him for a week or two and then publicly dump him just so the entire student body gets the message that he is Just A Friend.

Rin stares at him for a few seconds. then she laughs. she laughs and laughs. she laughs for a crazy long time. and then eventually she goes, ‘wow you’re an asshole, Kabru. no i won’t be your fake girlfriend. you’re gonna suffer and i’m going to enjoy it.’

and that’s when Kabru has a moment of enlightenment. ok yeah. asking for that is probably really selfish and mean. maybe he needs to think about girls’ feelings more and that’s maybe more important than his deep seated need to be liked, and when has Rin ever been wrong about anything.

he apologizes. and so begins one of the more serious talks he’s ever had with Rin about being okay with not being liked.

he thinks he can really turn over a new leaf. the whole ‘not worrying about what other people think’ thing goes pretty well — up until Kabru meets the aloof professor for his Monsters and Myths class who keeps forgetting and mispronouncing his name.

Kabru has never needed someone to like him So Bad, he needs Prof. Touden to like him as a matter of life and death, and he’s willing to look stupid for it (fails a midterm on purpose to justify begging for one on one tutoring)

#wow if you made it to the end of this post here’s some surprise labru #kabru says fuck my gpa i need this white boy to like me #i am plagued by demons (labru professor/student situationship)#dungeon meshi modern au #ok but the Kabru Milsiril dynamic is my new favourite chew toy #especially them in a modern setting #all of the lavish gifts and expensive lifestyle that Milsiril would want Kabru to have #perhaps even as a way of depending on her forever (love to an unhealthy degree)#but Kabru is more interested in people than material things #so perhaps he’s a little out of touch financially (thinks a jug of milk costs $12)#but he’s still very much socially aware #enough to know that he can’t just be another annoying trust fund kid with a dumb car and designer clothes and zero fucks about academics #so his social and academic excellence is probably in large part overcompensation for his privileged upbringing #and even the thought of someone not liking him gives him stomach cramps LOL #kabru my love you will always be famous #kabru of utaya #kabru #wasabi rambles #labru #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon

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disneyprincemuke · 2 months

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what if i told you that i've fallen? * ls2

[part one out of eight]

and what do you do when you fall in love with the person you swear is your best friend in the entire world?

pairings: logan sargeant x fem!driver

notes: u don't have to be acquainted with the original series to read and enjoy this i promise there's context here like i swear i swear i-

this is also A STANDALONE FIC OK THIS Is juST THEIR MEGA TIMELINE FIC WHERE whaT IF i entertained the idea of them ending up together xoxo <3

wc: 6.2k

(series masterlist) | (through the years)

2020

girls and guys can always be just friends for the rest of their lives. realistically, it isn’t that difficult to prove it: her friendship with oscar has always been the one remaining evidence that it is possible. and for years, her friendship with logan also told everyone that the phenomenon of ‘opposite gender friendships are impossible’ is simply a lie.

that was when she stepped out of her university campus one evening: a breeze blew her hair back, stray leaves swirling on the ground as logan leaned against the hood of his car. she felt her heart drop to her stomach when he looked up from his phone to smile at her.

suddenly her best friend didn’t seem like much of a best friend anymore. suddenly, she got giddy at the thought of sitting in the passenger side of his car; blushing when he put a hand on the back of the headrest as he reversed the car out of their parking spot. all of the things that he does have got a deeper meaning to them — is he doing that mindlessly or is she crazy to think that he could possibly feel the same?

truthfully, she has no idea where the feelings came from. up to now, she’d only ever seen logan as a best friend with whom she had several things in common. not to forget 1 of the 2 people who drove her around in their fancy cars whenever she needed them to. and not only that, one of the kids her parents let stay with them in their house during times they had to spend apart from their families back home.

“hey, feeling alright?” oscar elbows her gently.

the girl perks up slightly, turning to him with a wide smile as she blinks rapidly. “yeah, why do you ask?” she follows his gaze down to the untouched cup of mojito sitting on the table. she meets his eyes again with a sheepish laugh. “i just don’t really feel like drinking tonight.”

the sheer thought of having feelings deeper than the surface level for logan was enough to make her stomach churn.

oscar raises his eyebrow, glancing at the mojito again. “i don’t believe that.”

“i swear!” she shrieks, eyes widening as she waves oscar’s concerns away. “i’m just not feeling the club at all, actually.”

“really? but you’re usually in your element when we go clubbing,” oscar frowns, taking the mojito into his hands and starting to drink it immediately. it’s odd that she’s not out on the dance floor, creating a small dance party with random goers. “is something wrong? you can talk to me.”

she looks over her shoulder as the sight of her best friend on the dance floor with another girl greets her once more. it’s only complicated because she got him that girl the minute they stepped into the club. it’s what logan always teases her about being able to score him dates and girls even better than he could all by himself. she has this way of talking him up where girls immediately fall for him. it’s a power, even.

he praises her for that all the time.

as much as she’s convinced that this crush would never develop into something more than it is, it worries her. this one is different. she knows by heart because she’s never been kept up all night by anything before — not even her toughest days in school had gotten her this stressed.

racing, maybe, but nothing else.

and she knows she can’t talk to oscar about this. so she takes a deep breath and shakes her head again. “it’s nothing. i think i’ll just order some bar food.” she scooches out of their booth. “do you want any?”

“i’m alright, mate,” oscar grins. he waves goodbye to her, watching her disappear into the crowd. he turns to lily. “did you notice that? she was acting weird, wasn’t she? it’s not just me?”

lily nods, taking a sip from the mojito that the young girl left behind. “it is. we should try and figure that out soon before it gets bad.”

logan couldn’t tell you when he started seeing his best friend as more than just a friend. it came randomly.

the last time he remembered feeling normal about her was the night they all slept in his room the night before her first race in formula 3. someone was shivering and it sure as hell was not the guy sleeping next to him on the other bed with a blanket strewn over his shoulders tightly. when he sat up, he snorted when he saw the younger girl curled up into a ball as her teeth softly chattered.

he sighed as he got up to his feet, picking up the blankets that she’d conveniently kicked down to the ground sometime during her slumber. he would never have noticed if he hadn’t stepped on it, her stuffed animal lying on the ground, abandoned and betrayed by her after she discarded everything on the bed with her initially.

he remembers that he laughed as he lifted her arm, placing the stuffed animal under her arms. and he thought that she looked so adorable nuzzling her cheek into the plushie, falling into an even deeper sleep.

what got him was when he laid the blanket over her. she pulled the blankets around herself a little tighter, smiling in satisfaction as she felt her body start to warm up. “thanks,” she whispered before abruptly snoring again.

he felt his heart go heavy at the sight, thumping against his chest as she sighed heavily. suddenly his head starts to spin and he feels something he’s never really felt for anyone before.

and, oh, god. he needs to sit down.

he sat at the edge of her bed, scratching his head as both of his friends slept. he looked over at her and felt something tugging at his heart and he knew instantly that it was over for him and the way he looked at her.

he thought it was just a fleeting crush and something that would eventually go away. but it’s been 2 weeks and he still hasn’t been able to push away the nagging feeling in his chest. everything just leads back to the girl with the seemingly brightest smile and most hypnotising eyes.

it wasn’t long until he felt like he could burst from the way he felt. which is why he’s now sitting opposite oscar, at brunch, while they wait for her and lily to arrive from stopping by at a bakery not too far away. he’s bearing holes into oscar’s head, waiting to catch his attention, but the australian seems to be too caught up with what’s on his phone than his friend quietly breaking down across the table.

“oscar,” logan finally says, hand darting out to try and catch his attention. “mate, i need to tell you something. it’s important.”

“oh, you never really have anything serious to say.” oscar puts his phone down on the table, pressing his lips together. he folds his arms and leans on the table. “did you do something bad again? you have to tell her dad this time, i can’t keep doing that for you, mate.”

“no, no,” logan sighs, shaking his head. “i’m serious. this is serious. like, you can’t tell lily at all.”

“wha–“

“i know you tell lily everything, no shame in that. but you really cannot tell her this one.”

oscar furrows his eyebrows. “you’re kind of scaring me. how serious is this thing you’ve done?”

“insanely serious.” logan puts his palm on the table. “mate, i think i’m in love.”

out of all the girls that logan has ever been with, he’s never once said that he’s in love. or at least said it out loud. if oscar is hearing about it for the first time since they met years ago, logan must be pretty serious about this.

logan’s just never been the type to commit to anyone, more or less ever claiming that he is in love with any of the girls that he’s gone out on a date with.

oscar looks around, worried that the girls may have already arrived and overheard his friend. “you’ve never ever said that before. are you serious?” logan nods. “like for real, serious? you’re sure about this girl?”

“that’s the thing.” logan starts to play with the menu, opening and closing it as he tries to play off the severity of his feelings. “i don’t know. but it’s been bugging me for weeks now. i can’t get her out of my head.”

“it must be serious if this has been going on for weeks,” oscar scoffs with a small smile. “how long have you known her?”

logan contemplates telling oscar the truth. will oscar ever slip up and tell her about his feelings? and what will happen if it changes everything and he loses his best friends? literally, the people he knows are his ride-or-die.

“you have no idea the severity. it’s–“

“why are you hunched over whispering like a bunch of schoolgirls with gossip?” she snorts, patting logan on the shoulder as she slots herself in the empty spot next to him in the booth. “anything to tell me?”

logan shakes his head, moving in further to give her the spot. “nope, nothing.”

without anything said, oscar feels like logan’s already told him everything. typically, she’s always in the knows of anything feelings-related, or anything that has to do with a crush. and he knows logan doesn’t mind that lily knows. the arrows are only pointing at one possible person present in the room.

but it can’t be. they’re all best friends.

“ah, keeping secrets now, i see,” she hums, narrowing her eyes down into a suspicious stare.

“way to hold it against me, mate,” logan scoffs, picking up the menu from the table. he glances at oscar across the table who raises his eyebrows at him.

logan, already knowing that he’s caught on, just nods in devastation. in a way that oscar’s never seen him before and that in itself is concerning.

the feeling never stops gnawing at her when she lies awake at night in her bed. she tosses and turns for hours, biting her fingernails as she tugs on her hair in frustration.

her lock screen, a picture of the 3 of them at a track from just a couple of days ago, consumes her. she’s come to overanalyse everything: his hand placements in pictures, their text messages, the way he speaks to her, everything that he does seems to mean more than it used to. and it should not be this way at all.

he is her best friend, after all. and what would she know about crushes and love? she could have been a small percentage of the population that grew up without really having one. it’s not something she concerned herself about over the years.

of course, she allowed herself that one boyfriend when she was 16. but even now she knows that that was not love.

could this be love? surely not — not with her best friend.

not with the boy who moved into her house when she was 13 to live with them for some months of the year, then leaving to spend the holidays with his family in florida. it’s not fair that she is consumed whole by the thought of being his girl.

because when you grow up alongside people, you tend to know the worst side of them. especially when you live together.

but why is it that, as aware as she is of logan’s flaws and everything that made girls want to walk away, she still longs to have him all to herself?

she hears his voice mixed with oscar’s from the next room over. it seems that they are also kept up by something that doesn’t seem to concern her. should she join them for another sleepless night like she typically does?

but it seems to be almost crossing the line of the boundaries of late night conversations they seem to be having. she hums, dropping her phone next to her head as she rolls over to lie on her back.

she looks up at the ceiling and tries to map the past couple of years and how it’s led her here. her heart thumps in her chest as she thinks of the green eyes that have captivated her lately, breathing shakily as the urge to stare into it at this very moment grows.

but she doesn’t know that in the next room over, the older boy feels the same way about her. technically, all her tossing and turning, fears of losing him over feelings that are slowly festering in her gut, are all for nothing. because if she got up right now and just laid it all out for him, he would be okay with it. he’d welcome it with open arms.

not knowing if he feels the same is what scares her the most.

a knock on the door makes her jump, sitting up dishevelled as she turns her attention to the door. she should be asleep for her classes tomorrow — which she would have been if logan hadn’t taken up every inch of space in her mind — so if that’s a test from her parents, it’s over for her.

“it’s us.”

she scrambles out of bed, keeping her footsteps soft to avoid the notion of announcing that she’s out of bed. when she opens the door, it’s come to her surprise that they’re wearing jackets and pants. oscar holds up his car keys with a small grin. “we’re hungry.”

“i’ve got classes tomorrow,” she says in a whisper as she avoids logan’s stare that’s boring holes into her skull.

logan shrugs. “and you’re still awake,” he’s the first to walk towards the stairs and beckons his two friends to follow him, “come on, we were craving ice cream. thank god you’re awake.”

she looks down at herself, in her pyjamas and then glances over at her friends with furrowed eyebrows. “i’m not dressed to head out. could you give me like 5 minutes to change at least?”

“no time for that,” oscar frowns, “do you wanna get caught?”

“besides, i brought an extra jacket for you. your mum would flip if she sees one of your jackets was used, no?” logan stops at the top of the stairs, holding up one of his smaller jackets in the air to show it to her. “i reckon we should get a move before your parents hear you out of bed, dude.”

she takes a deep breath, her gaze softening at the jacket that’s held in the air. it’s not that cold out, so she would definitely do without a jacket. but the thought of being wrapped in a jacket that belonged to logan — with his smell and the whole shebang — almost brings her to her knees. and going to sleep with his cologne all over her? it’s enough to make a typically emotionless woman cry.

“mate, do you wanna come or not?” oscar whispers, still towering over her at her door.

she nods, slowly closing the door behind her as she tries to run silently to the stairs where logan is. “does it smell like you? cause that would be kind of gross.”

a lie: she literally wants it to smell like him. just so she can have a sliver of what it feels like to be his.

“nope. that’s clean.” logan smiles proudly, holding up the jacket with both hands, opening it wide for her to wear it. while normally it would be an issue if it smelled like logan (which is why he took a fresh jacket out of his closet), it’s all she wants right now — to go to bed smelling like him to replace the emptiness of sleeping by herself.

she slots an arm into the jacket, thanking him softly as she feels her cheeks heat up at the gesture. and this is what it’s like suddenly overthinking every interaction she has with logan. did he always used to do this or is everything amplified by the thought of her heart suddenly beating for him?

did his actions always have this romantic intonation in them and she was too stupid to notice, or has it always been this way?

she freezes as logan circles her, pulling the jacket down her shoulders before he zips it up for her. he tugs on it gently and pats her shoulder. “warm enough? i’ve got a thicker jacket if you need one.”

she shakes her head, eyes wide as she looks up at him. he doesn’t seem to notice; turning towards the stairs to make their way to the car. oscar walks past them and shakes the keys as softly as he can. “let’s go. i’m starving.”

she watches the 2 boys walk down the stairs, frozen in the ground at their interaction. she sucks in a deep breath as she tries to process everything: the way he was so close to her and how his gesture was so familiar yet so unfamiliar at the same time.

“mate, let’s go,” oscar scolds, beckoning her from the bottom of the stairs. “i’ll leave you behind if you’re not down here in the next 15 seconds.”

“okay, be patient!” she squeaks, jumping from her spot to rush towards oscar.

by the door, logan keeps a tight grip on the front door as he can barely glance at her happily jumping down the steps. the sight fills his chest with such warmth that he’s never felt before and even forces a small smile on his face that he doesn’t notice.

the gesture with the jacket took everything of his soul to do. it would be crazy for her not to notice the way his hands shook as he zipped the jacket up for her, his breaths shaking as he stood inches away from her. it’s odd because they’ve spent so many years together yet there is this sudden shyness that he cannot seem to escape.

surely she’s starting to catch on as well, right?

he doesn’t even notice that she’s passed him, muttering ‘shotgun’ as she jogs over to the front seat of the car happily. oscar pats him on the shoulder and shoots him a mean glare to snap him out of his trance.

“if you’re going to be this obvious, i’d be more shocked that she hasn’t caught on yet,” oscar mutters with caution before walking out.

logan drags his feet out of the house, slumping his shoulders when he realises that he has to sit at the back. he just shrugs before oscar opens the door to the driver’s seat. “you and i both, dude.”

“see you later, mate.” logan barely lands a pat on her shoulder before walking away, approaching frederik at the other end of the garage.

she looks at the shoulder that he didn’t even touch before her eyes follow the boy now jogging towards his friend. is she going insane or is logan avoiding her?

since they’d gone and grabbed food together 3 weeks ago, it’s been different. logan’s been speaking to her less, keeping conversations short and he barely even looks her in the eye. she can’t say there’s ever been a time that this has ever happened for this long.

she excused it for logan being busy initially, but 3 weeks is too long.

“hey, are you alright?” mick comes up behind her with a small smile and a hand on her back. “you’ve just been standing there for a good minute by yourself.”

“i’m… do you think i’m annoying?” she whispers, eyes wide as her brain goes at a rate it’s never gone before. she starts walking with mick and looks down, bracing herself for his answer.

“what? why would you say that?” he says softly, tilting his head. “did something happen? another reporter get on your nerves?”

she sighs, shaking her head. she looks over her shoulder again where logan walked off before and sighs again as she meets mick’s eyes momentarily. “no… i don’t know… i feel like oscar and logan are avoiding me.”

mick hums, looking around with eyebrows furrowed. surely she is just overthinking it, right? for as long as he’s known any of them, they’ve been inseparable. he can’t think of a time where either logan or oscar went without mentioning her once in a conversation.

it’s like their worlds revolved around her.

“i don’t know, mate,” mick slings an arm over her shoulder as they talk, “maybe just give it some time? it’s a busy weekend and you know they’re your best friends.”

she shrugs. “i guess you’re right. maybe they’re just busy.”

but she can’t just shake away the feeling of something not being right.

“i’m gonna tell her.”

“are you stupid?”

“what? no.”

“then don’t tell her.”

logan puts his hands on his hips, chewing on the inside of his cheek. he stares at oscar with a bewildered expression. “why not?”

oscar mirrors his expression. how stupid can logan be right now? “if she doesn’t reciprocate, then what are you going to do? we literally live with her. tell me what you’re going to do when you tell her you’re in love with her and she doesn’t feel the same way.”

the american throws his hands into the air. “i’m not in love with her!”

“it doesn’t feel that way lately!”

“i have a small crush on her. doesn’t mean that i’m in love with her, okay? and in my head, if i tell her and she doesn’t feel the same way, then it’ll make it easier to move on.”

“babe, i– crush on who?” lily tilts her head, walking into the room with a curious stare. “logan has a crush on somebody? i swear i had this same conversation speculating just 5 minutes ago.”

oscar turns around wide-eyed at his girlfriend. “nobody.”

logan sighs. “oh, lily’s not stupid. you know who i have a crush on.”

the brit blinks blankly at the 2 boys in the room. “no, i don’t.” she tilts her head as she threads the room cautiously. “am i supposed to kn– no way.”

logan nods. “yes way.”

“and you knew this whole time and you’ve been lying to me?” lily shrieks, smacking oscar’s shoulder. “why didn’t you just tell me?”

“so you could tell her and mess up our dynamic? no way!” oscar scoffs, scratching his head in frustration. “listen, i actually like living in her big house with her family. and i actually also like being best friends with her — she’s nice to me.”

“she’s nice to me too,” logan points out.

“that’s different — you’re actually in love with her.”

“i’m not in love with her!”

“you guys have got to start talking to her again,” lily mutters as she climbs into the backseat of oscar’s car. she inches forward and glances out at the window where the younger girl slowly walks over to them. “you’re killing her.”

logan turns around, shaking his leg as he keeps his hands on the steering wheel. “you’re asking too much of me!”

“i do talk to her!” oscar defends himself, throwing his hands into the air. “but i can’t keep a straight conversation with her without wanting to tell her that our best friend is in love with her!”

the urge to tell her gets worse every single time. she’s just blabbing on all the time oblivious to the fact that their best friend spends countless hours talking about how majestic she is.

“i’m not in love with her!” logan scolds, reaching out to smack oscar on the shoulder. he looks at lily and presses his lips together. “and i try to talk to her, okay? but it’s hard.”

and he really does, but she’s got this need for eye contact when she talks to people; it makes it all the harder not to start rambling about how she’s got him wrapped around her fingers currently. it’s just so unfair how she doesn’t know the effect that she’s got on him.

he can barely keep a conversation with her, his defences crumbling when their eyes meet, stuttering and losing his words. and for a guy like logan, feeling like this for someone is beyond his comprehension. it’s just not something he thinks he can get used to.

“well, you’ve got to keep it together! she’s been really upset lately!” lily mutters, smacking both of their shoulders.

logan sighs. “surely, it’s not that–”

the back door opens and the girl slides into her seat with a polite smile. “hi,” she greets them with a small nod. she doesn’t wait for a response before she puts her airpods in and starts to type away on her phone.

“i told you,” lily mouths to the two boys in the front seats, rolling her eyes as she sits back with her arms folded over her chest.

her jaw drops slightly, eyes watering at the conversation she was definitely not meant to overhear. she steps away from the doorframe she hid behind and slumps her shoulders. "you what?"

the two boys, engaged in a whispering conversation just seconds ago, widen their eyes as they turn their heads to the source of the shocked voice.

she had fallen asleep on her couch as they played video games on the playstation, and they had to have a private conversation about logan’s lingering stares and silent pining.

immediately, logan starts stuttering and flailing his hands around to come up with an excuse for what she could have possibly heard. "i- i mean.. like-"

"the girl you fancy is me?" she asks slowly, then turning to oscar. "and you kept this a secret from me the entire time?"

"no, just let me explain, god," logan smacks his forehead, trying to calm the girl down. "will you listen to me for a second?"

oscar presses his lips together and drops his head in disappointment. "i couldn't tell you. don't be like that."

"you guys made me feel like i was going crazy thinking you didn't wanna be friends with me anymore," she complains, stomping her foot into the ground. "i felt like i didn't even know you guys so well in the past month. i felt like you guys were pushing me away."

"what? no, please just listen to me. this is all my fault."

"i thought you guys didn't even wanna be friends with me anymore. all of that to find out that it's because you just suddenly realised i'm cute?" she bursts, giving logan a look. "seriously? you didn't notice that years ago when we first met?"

oscar lifts his head, his look of disappointment quickly replaced by confusion. logan also drops his hands, head tilting at her response.

he had a list formed of possible ways she could react if his secret ever came out. this was not one of them.

"pardon?"

"we've been friends for so long growing up. you think that i never had a crazy puppy crush on either of you?" she scowls at them, wiping the few tears that managed to escape her eyes. "get a grip, my dudes!"

"what?" logan screams. "you're telling me i've been in over my head for literally nothing because you've had a crush on me too?"

"had?"

"you've got a crush on him right now? and me before?" oscar exclaims in disbelief, pointing at logan. "and we never knew? seriously?"

she shrugs, folding her arms over her chest with a smug smile. "i'm just better at keeping secrets compared to you guys, i guess."

she turns on her heel and walks out of the kitchen. “you’ll get over it. trust me. i’m actually in the process of getting over my crush on you, lo.”

but she’s never been more wrong about anything in her life.

logan leans on his car, elbow propped on the roof of his car and chin in his palm. he taps away on his phone as he lazily enjoys the breeze of oxford while he waits.

“i thought you were going to be late?” she hums, tilting her head as she approaches him. she’s got his jacket around her shoulders and an eye squinted from the sun shining brightly above them. “i took all the time i could walking out of campus.”

he shrugs, pushing himself off the car and slips his phone into his pocket. “traffic cleared up a while back. where’s lily?”

she shrugs back at him with a soft giggle. she jogs over to him and wraps her arms around him momentarily before quickly pulling away. “thanks for picking me up, by the way.”

logan throws his head back with a snort, folding his arms over his chest. “did i have a choice?”

he knew better than to decline her wide eyes asking him to please pick him up from campus after an entire day of classes. that, and that fact that it’s just so difficult to say no to her when it came to things like this.

“very funny,” she laughs with a playful eye roll as she rounds the car to the other side. “lily has something on with another module. let’s head out to dinner, you and i?”

he grins and unlocks his car. “yep. let’s go.”

"what's wrong?" worry paints her face as he starts acting calmer than before. her eyes follow logan's hands, lifted up to her face as he tries to brush back her stray hair behind her ears. "are you alright?"

"have i ever told you," he pauses to trace a line down her cheek with his fingertips, "how pretty you are?"

"only when you're drunk," she whispers back with a playful smile. "did you ingest some kind of poison and you've only got a couple minutes to live? is that why you're like this?"

"no," he shakes his head. a small smile appears on his face, tucking a finger under his chin to lift her eyes up to meet his. "i just think you look very pretty. i don't tell you that often."

she admits she almost felt her knees buckle at his words and melt on the ground at his words. logan had never been a very outwardly affectionate type unless he's drunk, so while this is expected behaviour out of him, it's never gotten quite as intimate as this.

she's had him fall asleep with his head in her lap before on the couch, but never has he been this close to her while whispering sweet words at her.

"it would be weird."

"it shouldn't be."

"logan, are you alright?"

he doesn't respond. and she freezes in her spot when his hand drags along her skin, cupping her cheek as he leans down into her. and he would have done it. he would have kissed her but something stops him.

it could’ve been the sheer reminder that they’re supposed to be just best friends. just that, nothing more and nothing less.

he stops himself right as their noses touch and sighs shakily, holding himself up with a hand on her arm. “i’m sorry.”

she lets out a soft sigh and forces a grin on her face. she grabs his shoulders to stabilise him, “do you need to throw up?”

“i think so,” he mutters with a hand on his chest. he turns to look at her with a heaving chest and puffy lips. “can you help me back to the villa please?”

she chuckles, approaching him with her arms held out. “okay, let’s get you back, mate.”

she stands in front of the bedroom door, stuffed bear in hand with a soft huff as she awaits a response.

the door opens, revealing logan in his pyjamas and dishevelled hair. he blinks for a few moments before realising who’s standing at the door. “oh, hi.”

“i couldn’t sleep,” she sighs softly, pursing her lips and slouching slightly. “can i sleep in oscar’s bed?”

logan blinks. he tries to think of what oscar would say if he consulted the australian about what to say in response to her question.

his heart has a simple answer: yes, let her spend the night in your bedroom. but his mind, clearly going with logic, knows exactly the solution to avoid getting himself into deeper shit: maybe you shouldn’t let her because it will complicate things.

guess which answer logan chooses.

“yeah, of course.” logan takes a step back and beckons her into the room. “what’s wrong? nightmare? watched a horror movie all by yourself again and scared yourself?”

“yeah,” she grins sheepishly, climbing onto oscar’s bed.

lie. she couldn’t fall asleep at the thought of logan and her almost kissing a week ago on their trip to the bahamas. and since oscar’s not here to put a stop to their antics, she did the one thing she knows would put her to sleep, or at least to a calmer state of mind.

“oh, what did you watch?” logan giggles, closing the door behind him. “do you need me to turn the nightlight on again?”

she smiles, shaking her head. “just insidious. i got bored while i was doing my homework.”

“you should really start watching that with someone around,” logan sighs, walking over to his bed on the other side of the room. “you know how insidious gets you all jumpy and weird.”

“yeah, i barely made it to 20 minutes of the movie,” she laughs, sighing as she drops her back on the bed. she pulls the blankets up and tucks herself under them. “anyway, thanks for letting me sleep here tonight.”

“of course, dude.”

logan finds himself at her university campus once more, leaning up against the side of his car as he awaits the girl to meet up with him.

he hears heels clicking against the gravel of the university parking lot, making him raise his head in anticipation with a wide grin.

“aw, happy birthday, dude!” logan cheers, opening his arms to the girl approaching him. “how were your classes?”

she sighs heavily, rolling her eyes. “horrid.”

“you left before oscar and i could make you pancakes for breakfast,” logan frowns, squeezing her slightly as she stumbles into his body. “we’re going to take you out for pancakes instead.”

“wow, pancakes for dinner?” she giggles with a hand on her chest. “how lovely.”

“and ice cream,” logan beams with a grin. he gently reaches forward to take her laptop into his hands along with the bag on her shoulder. “because it’s your birthday–”

“where’s my gift?” she teases, hopping forward to rest her chin on his arm. she looks up at him with puffed cheeks and wide eyes. “you promised me a present this year.”

logan blinks blankly at her. he looks at the way she’s cosied up into his body and then back into her eyes. “it’s with oscar.”

she blinks, taking a step back as she realises how close she’s gotten to him. “so you got me a present? how sweet of you, logan.”

“you threatened me to get you a present,” logan scoffs with a roll of his eyes. he starts laughing along with her, shoving her things into the backseat of his car. “as i was saying, because it’s your birthday, i’m giving you 2 options: to drive my car, or to not.”

he flashes her his car keys, dangling them high enough in the air for her to not reach them.

“i’m getting spoiled this year with options,” she laughs, jumping into the air to snatch the key out of logan’s hands. “i wouldn’t turn down the chance to drive your car and send you into cardiac arrest.”

she walks around logan to run over to the driver’s side of the car. “don’t forget to wear your seatbelt.”

“i wouldn’t ever dare if you’re the one driving.”

gen taglist: @33-81 @darleneslane @namgification @localwhoore @happy-nico @nikfigueiredo

#logan sargeant x reader #f1 x reader #logan sargeant x you #f1 fem!driver #female driver #f1 female driver #formula 1 #formula 1 female driver #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke vr #vettel reincarnate

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daydreamingyuta · 9 months

Text

Mornings | Jaehyun

summary: fluff, a collection of mornings with Jaehyun over the years as you spend your lives together. word count: 1,127

Saturday August 10, 2019 [7:18 am]

You woke up, having hardly gotten any sleep, but energized as ever. Today you were meeting up with your boyfriend, Jaehyun. You two had just made everything official and your heart was so happy.

You go into the bathroom to do your skincare, and when you walk back into your room, you notice a good morning text from him.

Jaehyun: "Good morning baby! Can't wait to see you today <3"

A single text shouldn't make you this filled with joy, but it's from Jaehyun, so of course it does.

Y/n: "I can't wait either! Do you think we could also get some ice cream afterwards?"

Jaehyun: "We'll do anything you want angel"

You flop back onto your unmade bed, your thoughts filled with how lucky you feel to be Jaehyun's girl. You start to get giggly because you know that, by the end of the date he's going to cup your face into his hands and tell you how pretty he thinks you are, like he always does.

⸻

Sunday November 10th, 2019 [1:17 am]

You were supposed to be at home, already asleep in bed by now, but you and Jaehyun didn't want to leave each other. Each of you making excuses to prolong your date. Now it's one in the morning and you're on a walk, the street lit up by the moonlight. Each step you take, now unconsciously synced with his. Jaehyun hasn't let go of your hand once, and you wish that he never would. While you were enjoying your stroll, his mind was racing, thinking of how to tell you. He knew in his heart that you felt the same way about him, so he decided it would be best to just tell you outright. "Y/n?" He says, with a hint of nervousness in his voice.

You both stop and turn to face each other, knowing from the tone in his voice that he needs to tell you something important. "I love you." Words cannot describe how your heart feels in this moment. The way he's looking at you, like you're the most precious person in the world to him, was making you melt. "You love me?" You say with a teasing smile, tilting your head slightly. "So much y/n. I can hardly take it." He says, breathlessly. You stand up on your tippy toes and give him the biggest kiss you've ever given him. "I love you too, Jaehyun."

⸻

Sunday December 15th, 2019 [9:12 am]

The slight movement of Jaehyun cuddling more into you was the reason you had woken up. You move to get into a more comfortable position, causing Jaehyun to wrap his arm tighter around you. “I’m sorry baby, did I wake you up?” Jaehyun says with his morning voice that you couldn’t get enough of. “Hm, it’s okay. I love cuddling with you in the mornings.” Jaehyun nuzzles his head into your neck, “Me too, baby.” You fall back asleep, thinking about how excited you were that it’s almost your six month anniversary together. You can’t believe that you’ve been together for that long, the time feeling like it was going by so fast.

⸻

Friday April 16, 2021 [7:32 am]

You knew something was up. You weren't sure what, but Jaehyun and all your friends and family had been acting strange for the past month. Like they all knew something you didn't.

You had just gotten a promotion at work, so maybe they all came together to plan a surprise party for you. But that's not really something you would enjoy and they all know that, so you really had no clue what it could be.

Today, Jaehyun was taking you out on a fancy dinner date, so whatever was going on definitely wasn't happening today.

"Good morning, angel." Jaehyun says, once he sees that you're awake. He's carrying a suit that he must have just picked up from the dry cleaners.

"Did you buy a brand new suit for our dinner?" You ask, confused.

"Yeah." He shrugs, as if getting a new suit was no big deal. As if he didn't have to spend days finding the right one for the special occasion. As if he didn't get the suit tailored to fit him exactly the way he knows you like.

You had more questions, but Jaehyun distracted you from them all by climbing into bed with you and giving you a million little kisses. You were in heaven whenever he did this.

Little did you know, that in only a couple of hours he was going to be down on one knee, in the park that you two visited during your first date, asking you to make him the happiest man on earth.

⸻

Monday May 16, 2022 [10:35 am]

You woke up with the waves coming from right outside your hotel window. You feel around the bed and notice that Jaehyun must have already gotten up. You hear a sound in the bathroom and know that he just got finished with his morning shower. He comes out of the bathroom with a white robe on, his hair wet and messy, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone as handsome in your life. “Can you believe we got married two days ago, Jae?” You ask, unapologetically staring him down. “No, I can't." He says, jumping back under the covers with you. "Did my beautiful wife have a good night's sleep?” You rest your chin on his now bear chest. “Yes, I did.” He strokes your hair as he looks down at you. “Should we sleep in on the first day of our honeymoon?” You nod your head yes, adamantly. You come up to press a kiss onto his lips and he cups your face into his hands and kisses you back. He pulls away, but just for a moment to ask you a question. “Do you know how beautiful you are y/n?”

⸻

Monday May 8th, 2028 [7:23 am]

“Mommy!” You hear as your oldest hops onto your bed, waking you up. “Mommy, happy mothers day!” She presses kisses all over you, making sure that you're fully awake. “Thank you sweetheart.” You say, sitting up so you can give her a hug and another kiss. She giggles in your arms and gets close to your ear like she has a secret to tell you.

"We made you something." She whispers.

Soon after, Jaehyun walks through the door, balancing your youngest in one arm and a stack of pancakes in the other.

“Happy mothers day, angel.” Jaehyun tells you as he sits the pancakes down on the bed and leans over to give you a sweet kiss.

#jaehyun #nct #nct 127 #drabble #nct scenarios #imagine #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x y/n #fluff #k-pop #fanfiction #nct fanfic #jeong jaehyun

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powderblueblood · 7 months

Text

HELLFIRE & ICE — eddie munson x f!oc as enemies to star-crossed lovers

CHAPTER THREE — EDDIE MUNSON COMMITS TREASON (BREAKS UP a CAT FIGHT)

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summary: you deal with the fallout of your fight at steve harrington's party... in the passenger seat of eddie munson's van. so much for pretending you didn't exist to one another, huh? content warnings: as always, MINORS FUCK OFF, because we have *deep breath* implied fantasy smut, lots of swearing, confused yearning, themes of threat, heavy snark, another mention of the drink tab which i feel like is/was gross word count: 7.2k

Dear Dio, Tommy Iommi, Gary Gygax, Pee-wee Herman, Ronnie Ecker — forgive me for what I’m about to do.

I know I’ve done a lot of stupid shit in my life. Like the time I lit all my hair on fire and spent middle school with a buzz cut. Or the time I almost trapped myself in a spread eagle with my own handcuffs. Or the time I got my arm stuck in a wall for an entire afternoon when I was trying to rescue a feral cat.

I’ve done a lot of stupid shit. But the stupidest among it all has got to be saving this girl from the bare knuckle wrath of Carol Whatsername. You know the one.

Tonight, for whatever reason, this insane ex-rich chick has decided to teeter on the edge of a pool of boiling hot lava and for whatever reason, I feel like it’s my responsibility to yank her back.

Which sucks, because she’s a total bitch to me.

Even if she just told everybody Tommy Hagan had crabs and has been cheating on his girlfriend in such a deranged way that it almost made me pop a semi.

Anyway. Tell my guitar I love her.

The world around Eddie slows to the tick of a football game replay as you let the last incendiary word you speak to Carol bounce around the goddamn Roman amphitheater Harrington’s back yard has become.

This is insane. What he’s watching is insane. Like, he knew you and your dumb little court of Hawkinsites bickered back and forth, but you’re the last person he’d ever expect to air their dirty laundry like this.

It’s incredible to watch the fascist leadership that he and the rest of the social nobodies have suffered under for so long rupture in real time.

What’s even more incredible is how little hesitation there is on his part, shoving through the crowd when he sees Carol leaping for you. Eddie’s nearly jostled backwards by some slobbering roid heads— they’ve already called CAT FIGHT! and a crowd is clamoring. But Eddie’s got years of thankless equipment lugging behind him, giving him deceptively strong arms.

And thank god, because you are not an easy girl to hold onto.

Carol lands a decent punch to your face, slamming with a dull knuckle-on-cheekbone crunch that makes all the onlookers, including him, go ooof! You stagger back in a state of shock (though, c’mon, you heard what you said just now, right?) and Eddie takes his shot just as you dive forward to retaliate.

He grabs you under the arms so you can’t like, elbow him in the fucking nose, a pale imitation of an illegal wresting move that Al Munson had forced him to learn at the tender age of seven. His dad had fancied himself a wrestling manager at the time— you can imagine how that worked out.

But Jesus, can you ever squirm! Your body writhes against him—stop—hips bucking—don’t go there—as you try to get free. He doesn’t even think you realize who’s dragging you away from the screaming harpy, otherwise you’d probably turn your fury on him.

He takes full advantage of the rage blackout and manhandles you through the party, earning a baffled look from Steve Harrington, who’s finally graced his own party with his presence. A pinch-faced Nancy Wheeler lingers behind him, but then again, Wheeler’s always all pinch-faced.

“What the fuck?!” Harrington breathes, exasperated.

Eddie struggles against you struggling, just about dragging you over the front doorstep. Trust this guy to be upstairs in a domestic dispute, missing all the action while getting no action.

Even in the chaos, Eddie will never pass up an opportunity to fuck with Harrington.

“You gotta start hidin’ your bath salts, man! Chicks are going crazy in there–Evil Dead type shit!”

—

“You’re dead, Lacy! Monday morning, you are fucking dead!” Carol screams down the hallway.

“It’s a date, bitch!” you screech, Munson’s nelson hold on you stronger than your thrashing. With a lot of work, he manages to haul you as far as Harrington’s front yard before you wriggle out of his grasp. You shove him, hard, all white hot and punch drunk and regular drunk on top of that.

He yelps, high and frightened. You weren’t expecting a noise like that to come out of a surly-looking dude like him.

So you do it again.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” you spit, and Munson flinches.

“Cutting you off!” he exclaims, this half-yell, half-laugh. It stings, the way he’s looking at you– like your anger isn’t anger, like it’s just amusing to him.

“Well, who gave you the right? Who died and made you my parole officer, Munson?!”

“Oh, I’m not– but I also didn’t feel like being woken up at home when the cops come looking for you after you go all Raging Bull on Carol. You haven’t been around the park long enough to hear ‘em, but those sirens really perforate the eardrums!”

Your jaw sets itself stiffly and you bind your arms over your chest. Unfuckingbelievable. “I would’ve, you know,” you breathe, seething, “Beat her up.”

Munson’s dark eyes glide over you, like he’s checking you for concealed weapons or signs of a zombie bite— you avoid his gaze entirely, staring square into the middle distance.

You promised that he didn’t exist to you, yet here he is. Driving you off the road. Breaking up your fights. Existing.

“Yeah, I know you woulda. You’re scary,” he says. You shrug, and he reaches to massage his shoulder. “And strong. Shit.”

Your eyes flick over to him, but you don’t feel bad. You don’t feel bad because he’s grinning at you now and despite yourself, despite everything that’s transpired and the everything about him, you’re trying your hardest not to grin back. Adrenaline and vodka are still burning a hole in your chest.

“Stay out of my way, then.”

“Noted, but,” a couple of steps from Munson’s end closes some space between you. He’s peering at your face, right where Carol clocked you. A hand reaches out, angling your chin closer to the Harrington’s glaring porch light with his fingertips. You stiffen and squint, performatively wary, but you don’t stop him. You just let his eyes pan over you, looking anywhere but into them. “You might need a little first aid first. And a ride home.”

“I was actually planning on carjacking Hagan,” you say coolly, the smile you were trying to beat away edging its way across your face. Munson releases your chin and the spot where his fingers were buzzes. It’s just the cold. It’s just your slutty librarian outfit, you tell yourself. You have to swallow in order to speak again. “Seems like fitting payback.”

“Jesus, sweetheart, what did I just say about cops?”

—

Eddie tolerates your eyes rolling back in your head when he props the passenger door open for you, helping you into the cluttered van with an outstretched had.

See, I’m not the kind of asshole who doesn’t open doors for girls wearing stilts for shoes.

Those things were not made for clambering into a vehicle like this, sure, but they’re– nice. For what he knows about shoes, which is nothing. They make your legs look more… leggy, and for whatever reason this is making his brain soft.

In your other hand is a cold can of High Life, which is the closest thing to an ice pack he could nab. That bruise blooming under your eye is going to be nasty, and he’s a little curious how you’re gonna look with it. You, with nary a hair out of place on a bad day, with a big ol’ purple shiner in a place that’s hard to hide.

Gunning out of Harrington’s hood, a silence settles between Eddie and you. The radio hums in the background– a mainstream station for once. He thoughtfully figured that an aural assault by Sabbath would kinda rub salt in your wound.

He’s thoughtful, but he’s not not nosy. So, of course he’s gonna ask–

“That whole… verbal smackdown back there,” Munson starts after clearing his throat. “With Tommy H and everybody.”

On your end, the adrenaline has worn off and the numbing effects of the booze have amped up. You feel loose and warm, apart from the beer can cooling your bruise. There are twice as many streetlights streaming past you as usual. This is going to blow later– if you don’t blow chunks first.

“All that about your dad pimping me out?” God, I mean, Hagan couldn’t compose a written sentence to save his life but maybe he had a future in speculative fiction. Did he just come up with that on the fly? “Take a wild guess, Munson.”

Eddie recoils in his seat– gross. Gross. “Not the– the shit with Tina and Carol and–”

“Oh, the crabs? Yeaaaah, that’s true,” you slur, “But I rejected Tommy waaay before I knew that. Call it my brilliant instinct. And then he has the nerve to call me frigid, which– trust me, I’m anything… anything but.”

Munson seems a little surprised at this. You can see it in the way his eyebrows dart under his curly bangs.

But you’ve had your share of disappointing experiences with the blandly acceptable boys in your circle– it’s par for the course, it’s part of advancing in the field. You can’t throw your cat into the street completely, but god forbid you be choosy about the boys you want to copulate with. The ones you’ve hooked up with, all unremarkable and perfunctory, always seemed so smug afterwards. Like they’d conquered something.

But from Eddie’s purview, you always held yourself like you were above everyone else; not just the underclassmen and the social rejects, but even your own friends. He’d watch you sometimes, because it’s hard not to watch you. He’d wait for the few flickering moments you let your guard down, when you thought no one was paying attention as you sat at the lunch table or walked the hallways. So achingly unamused by the guffawing, the backslapping, the forced camaraderie of your forced high school persona and your forced high school friends. Then, one of them would say something like, Right, Lacy? and your brow would unarch and you’d be right back in the groove with the rest of them, giggling dumbly and glossing your lips.

He always wondered how you did it, tolerated it. And why.

“Now, far be it from me to agree with a shithead like Hagan–and I don’t, before you get scary–but I kinda get where he’s picking that up,” Eddie winces, throwing a glance to you, glassy-eyed with your head against the window. You’re looking at him with narrowed eyes, eyeliner smudged. Even that look could cut down a man with twice his ego. “You’re a little bit frosty. Cold shock in the middle of a summer’s day– which, y’know, could be–”

You absolutely do not let him finish the thought.

“It’s caaaalled being aloof, Munson,” you drawl, shuffling your shoulders against the passenger door and pulling a stray thread from your skirt with a sharp snap. “Playing hard to get, duh? Leave them wanting more? You wouldn’t get it because you’re so goddamn big and obvious all the time…”

“Obvious!” he brays, letting his jaw hang open with theatrical flair, “Obvious! Lacy, you wound me, I–”

“Obvious,” you bark back, “Obvious like a neon sign, obvious like a circus tent, obvious like– like– look at me, look at me, I’m a weirdo!” Your Munson impression, complete with devil horns, is a little dorkified but it shuts him right up. That loose little tongue of yours has trasmuted your mood from wrath to barbed silliness. “So obvious you wouldn’t know that kind of subtlety. Not if it hit you in the face.”

A familiar tune whistles from the radio, distracting you. “… or cause you’re a virgin.”

“Okay—!“ Eddie starts, immediately assuming the position of point guard. His hackles are raised, but to be honest, he’s so willing to let you ramble on. It’s the first time he’s heard you talk this much, ever, save your little tête-à-tête by the lockers the other day.

Eddie doesn’t want to stem the flow just yet. He’s not thinking about it too hard.

“Oh shit, do you hear that?” Like a Virgin pumps from the tinny speakers and you reach to turn it up, your head drunkenly bobbling on your neck. Eddie winces; it’s so weird, watching you like this. It’s like dream logic. It’s like opposite day. “Munson’s a virgin! I’m gonna touch him for the very first tiii-iime! Munson’s a vii-iir-gin—“

“First off, no I am not and no,” he audibly swallows, positive you didn’t realize what you just sang, “no, you are not, ‘cause— well.” He clears his throat. A flare of heat burns around his collar. “I’m not the type to bone and tell.”

“Bone and tell.” You guffaw, a sound so unbecoming yet so endearing coming from you, and slump back in your seat. That tight little skirt you’re wearing rides up about an inch and a half. “Sounds like something a virgin would say.”

Eddie huffs; no way around this. You’re fucking with him, and it’s the indefatiguable male ego that’s not going to let him let you win.

He fucks, okay? Or has fucked, prior to this.

Not that there’s anything wrong with not fucking.

But he’s done it.

Eddie’s eyes dart between you and the road, and you’ve got him like a stuck pig with that expectant glare. His eyes linger on your exposed upper legs for a half a second.

Christ, you’re annoying. It occurs to him that wants to bite the soft flesh of your thigh and hear you squeal about it, but you are annoying as hell.

“Fine. Fine. You wanna know?”

Your head lolls against the rough upholstery of the seat and you bat your lashes at him. “I really wanna know.”

And Munson will tell you, you know, because you’re the kind of person people tell things to.

“Nicole Summers.”

“Bullshit. Nicole Nicole? My Nicole?”

“Nicole Nicole. Nicole, formerly yours. The only-girl-meaner-than-you Nicole. It was tenth grade,” he snorts bitterly. “Most unforgettable thirty seconds of my life.”

“Nicole told us she got her v-card stamped by a board waxer in Maui.”

“I’ve got a lot of side gigs. You don’t know about me.”

You snort too, despite yourself. That’s a lot of despite-ing tonight, Lacy. You sit up in the seat a little, interest catching. Flame to a candle wick.

“How was it?” you press.

Munson furrows his brow, like duh. “Most unforgettable thirty seconds of my life, I just told you.” A beat. “Until— …Cass Finnigan.”

Now, an encounter like that is less surprising, but still you holler, “Bullshit!”

“I’d say the same shit if it hadn’t, y’know, happened to me,” he stage whispers, “In this van.”

Your eyes widen, a flicker of a grimace sailing across your face. You wonder how he pulled that off, but all that comes to mind is the start of a bad porno– Cass meets him at that dingy little bench out back of the school to pick up and he’s, I don’t know, test driving some of his new supply and offers her a toke. She’s all, why the free samples, Munson? and he’s all, I only let the prettiest girls test the product. And because Cass is notoriously insecure–who among us, girl–she’s all, who, me? and he’s all, come back to my van, and she’s all, but I’m going steady with Mikey B, and he’s all, I won’t tell if you won’t and then he fucks her in the ass.

Because Cass is saving the first hole for marriage and you know that. You’re the kind of person people tell things to.

What you don’t expect is a weird pull of… envy. Why, in this imaginary scenario, had he never invited you back to his van? Well. You know why. But you’re drunk, so logic begone. “When did all this go down?”

“Uh, right before school got back,” Munson answers, kind of apprehensively. He could be lying, you figure.

“Well, Cass has been having a weird year,” you mumble, meaning to think that rather than say it. You know, because you’re the kind of person people tell things to.

“What’s that supposed to imply exactly?” Eddie says, an edge in his voice. He can’t help the way something in his chest flares; like he forgot to wait for the other shoe to drop with you, and now it’s dropping.

“It stands to reason that she’d wanna, like, do something stupid,” you explain, and you know how it sounds. It’s mean. But honestly, you’re so drunk, and so past the point of attempting to spare people’s feelings.

“Like hook up with the local freak,” Eddie finishes for you, tone flat. You couldn’t not put him in his place, could you? Not that he thought Cass liked him or anything, he could feel her (literally feel her) going through the motions like a social experiment but– God, a little delusion doesn’t hurt now and again.

“Exactly!” and even in your inebriated state, you can feel the tension in the air, hanging between you like a balloon full of noxious gas. Rather than cut it, you want to poke at it, unfeeling as to whether that’ll make it worse or better between you and the boy in the driver’s seat. You hike yourself up further, leaning toward him, pulling the can of High Life from your face.

Munson’s profile is this beguiling mix of hurt and irritation, lit by the scuzzy orange hue of the passing streetlights.

“What, did you want me to act impressed? Did you want me to lie to you?”

“What? No– look, I know what girls like that– think of me, but,” Eddie’s voice shrinks in his throat, making him sound completely pre-pubescent. He notices you lean forward in his peripheral vision, like you have to strain to hear it, “that doesn’t make it any less shitty.”

Oof. He did not need to unleash that little piss-shake of earnestness right now. He mentally steels himself for a ribbing from you, a cackling, piercing laugh like you let out before Carol punched you.

“Of course it doesn’t!” you froth, “Just like it doesn’t make it any less shitty when guys act like they’re settling a bet with their buddies when they hook up with me.” You cross your arms to your chest with a quickness, slamming back into the seat. “Bet you couldn’t make it with Lacy, she’s got a combination lock on her pussy. Fuck you, dude.”

That coaxes a bark of a laugh from Munson, which makes you giggle a little in turn. It’s a weird feeling. It’s not quite relief; more like satisfaction. One point to Lacy, you made him laugh.

“Combination lock, huh?”

“Allegedly.”

“Bet none of those losers even know how to crack a lock.”

Your head tilts in his direction, forward this time. “And you do?”

Munson’s eyes flash at you, a dangerous orange glint sparkling in the darkness of his irises. “My criminal skillset is pretty diverse.”

He pins you down with this look from the driver’s seat and for a heartbeat or two, and you let him. Just long enough that a stab of sobriety sneaks in– and you can’t deny it, but you wish it didn’t.

You’re drunk.

If you can stay drunk, all bets are off.

If you can stay drunk, whatever you do doesn’t matter, because you were drunk.

You could reach over and press your fingers into the soft denim between his legs, make something hard there. You could squeeze the thickness of him over his zipper and kiss the shock of alabaster skin on his neck, where his pulse goes all jackrabbity under your touch. You could make him forget he ever heard the name Cass Finnigan.

And it would mean nothing.

And you wouldn’t have to justify it, because you were drunk. That’s what you’ve always been taught.

But you uncross your arms and you pull at the hem of your skirt and look to the road, just as the van swerves into the trailer park. Munson doesn’t take such a hard turn at the corner this time, probably wary of your risk of ralphing all over the van if he does. He pulls into that negative space between your trailer and his and instructs you to wait in your seat.

“Trust me, the descent out of this baby is much trickier than it looks,” he assures you, jogging to the passenger door, a jingle of keys and pocket chains and belts on leather, “and you’re way too gone to make it in one piece, princess.”

So he holds his hand out again (“M’shitfacedlady,”) and gingerly you take it, and it becomes very apparent very quickly that your legs have turned to rubber on the drive home.

“Oh, shit!”

Your attempt at gracefully exiting the van is ruined by an unsteady ankle, sending your weight right into Eddie Munson’s chest. Luckily, he was braced for it– just about. “Told you you couldn’t make it without me,” he breathes as you clutch a handful of his Metallica shirt, vision quadrupling. He’s warm, and you suddenly realize that you’re freezing.

Trembling.

“Stop flirting with me,” you hiss to one out of the four Munsons in front of you. “I need to go to bed.”

Eddie forces himself to bite back another double entendre, which is a shame, because they’re doing an awesome job of covering up how goddamn nervous he suddenly is. He moves his arm to your waist, helping you haul ass to your front door. He’s got to keep one arm outstretched behind you in case you lose your balance again– which you almost do, a couple of times, wavering around like a dashboard Jesus.

He watches you like he’s trying to commit this to memory, the rare case of you being so beyond your usual composure. He’s even got to intervene after the first five minutes, making unlocking your front door a two idiot job.

Eddie’s about to wave you off and disappear to scream and something else into his pillow when he sees you take a dangerous lunge into the darkness of the trailer. “Woah, girl–”

But you recover, in a kind of brainless way, taking a measured Bambi-like step forward. One after the other.

Fuck. He can’t leave you like this.

You’re gonna trip and brain yourself on a Fabergé egg or whatever the fuck it is you and your mom have in there.

“Uh– Lacy?”

The trailer is eerily quiet. You feel like you’re trespassing in your own place. Boxes of out-of-place, too-expensive ephemera are still strewn everywhere, but you navigate the maze of them like it’s nothing. Sense memory. You don’t even entirely register that Munson is following you inside, that he’s frantically whispering after you, until you reach your bedroom door.

A coldness shoots up your spine as you turn on him. You didn’t invite him in here, did you?

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask for the second time tonight. This time, it comes out a little fearful.

Eddie picks this up, right where you’ve erroneously dropped it. His chest gets a little tight. You didn’t think he was trying to–?

“Making sure you lie down in the recovery position, that’s all,” he throws his hands up in total surrender, Scout’s honor, all that shit. “I’m not tryin’ to pick any locks tonight. I swear.”

“I don’t need your help, Munson,” but just as you twist the doorknob, you keel over through the door, hitting the floor like a lead balloon.

“Yeah, you keep telling me that,” he blearily smirks down at you, “And yet.”

But Munson’s not such an asshole about it that he just leaves you there. He hauls you up, again, and you stagger towards your bed, flopping face down on top of the comforter. He says some variation of okay, well, that’s how you choke to death on your own vomit, Jimi Hendrix and bullies you into the recovery position.

“Don’t freak out, I’m just–” and Munson sits gingerly on the edge of your bed, taking one of your high heeled feet in his hands.

What the fuck, you mumble, either aloud or in your head. But he’s fiddling with the tiny buckle at your ankle, gently undoing it. Another chill runs through your body but you don’t move, not an iota. You just… let him do it. His hands on your aching feet aren’t a totally unwelcome touch. He’s being featherlight about it, almost afraid to touch you even though he had no problem sheepdogging you into bed.

“You could do anything to me right now,” you hear yourself saying. “No one would even know. No one would even care, I bet.”

It’s meant to sound like you’re goading him, or even flirting with him, but it comes out sounding pitiful. You cringe, your hands creeping up to cover your face.

“I’d care.” Munson’s voice is a tiny mumble– you know he’s just defending himself, but it kind of sounds like something else. He slips your right shoe off and sets it on the floor next to your left one. He hesitates for a moment before getting off your bed.

“Alright, well– we can forget this ever happened. Resume being assholes to each other on Monday. Don’t, like, die in the meantime.”

“You say resume like we ever stopped being assholes to each other.”

“Have a fun hangover, Lacy.”

–

You do not have a fun hangover. You wake up late Saturday afternoon after Friday’s bacchanal and don’t emerge from your room save from the occasional bathroom trip to puke up what little dignity you’ve got left. Sunday morning is when your mom hammers on the door and drags you to the kitchenette after confirming that you’re still, y’know, alive.

“This is your game face, hm?” she says, pulling at your chin to examine your violet bruise that seems to have developed its own heartbeat. She doesn’t hold your face the way Munson did, gentle and searching, just tugs into the sparse light streaming into the dingy kitchenette.

You attempt to steel your jaw, but your bottom lip is starting to waver.

“What happened?” your mother asks, and beneath all the jagged broken glass, there’s a tiny sliver of tenderness.

Call it your pride, but you don’t reach for it.

“I went out,” you say tightly, “and I made a fool of us.”

She hacks up a scoff through her smoker’s cough and disappears into her bedroom, leaving you alone to pick at a cold waffle. The few moments of consciousness you’ve had since Friday night have been spent trying to piece the party together– you remember clearing the better part of a bottle of cheap, cheap, shitty vodka with Robin Buckley’s help (weird), you remember getting into it with Hagan and Carol and getting wailed on. You remember getting a ride home with Munson, but the finer details of that are fuzzy.

You think, and this is a thought that turns your already 180’d stomach, you let him into your bedroom, but you can’t be one hundred percent sure. All you know for an absolute is that your shoes came off that night, and you would never bother to take your shoes off after a night like that.

So somebody must have.

Meanwhile, Eddie’s been having a hell of a meanwhile.

Fact of the matter is that you managed to detonate a nuclear bomb at Harrington’s party just under an hour after your arrival, which has got to be some kind of world record. It was also a world record for how little product he’d managed to sell during one of those parties, because he was preventing the manslaughter of a teenage girl– could’ve been you, could’ve been Carol. He nearly wishes he let that fight play out, as he stares into his empty wallet.

Eddie’s gotta busy himself somehow, gotta do something– weirdly, he’s not in the mood to make a whole lot of noise. It’s not such a terrible day for working on his van, so he slams his toolbox on the ground and gives a couple dozen casual glances toward your bedroom window.

Your blinds still aren’t fixed. That’s got to have been shitty when you woke up with a splitting vodka headache and a shiner the size of Canada.

Eddie keeps finding excuses to pace back and forth in perfect view of your window. Not in a peeping Tom sort of way, but in a way where he’d kind of like to see any sign of life from you. Even if you just rose from your bed like Nosferatu and gave him the finger. Then, he could relax.

“Ed,” a gruff voice comes from the makeshift trailer porch, “fuck’re you doin’.”

Those dulcet tones would belong to his beloved Uncle Wayne, who, ever since his hours got cut at the plant, has become unbearably observant of Eddie’s every movement. Wayne’s not a neglectful kind of father figure, not like his blinders-wearing real dad is, so he actually gets concerned when Eddie’s acting out of sorts.

“Engine,” Eddie mumbles, pivoting fast like a kid caught doing something he shouldn’t, “Engine’s making hinky noises.”

“Sounded alright last night,” Wayne levels him instantly, “when you came home.”

“Didn’t mean to wake ya,” he twists an oily rag in his hands, avoiding Wayne’s stony stare.

“I was up.” He crosses his arms, leaning against the doorframe. God, whenever Wayne susses him out, it’s like drip torture. He’s slow as molasses with the confrontation on purpose, making Eddie sweat and out himself on every little fuck up he’s ever made. “You go in there?”

Chin jerks towards your trailer. Eddie’s shoulders shrug towards his ears, head tilting back. “Wayne, it’s not– she was real drunk, like blotto, I just–”

“You steer clear of that one.” It’s the definite nature with which Wayne says it that makes Eddie’s stomach drop. No prelude to it, no I know, kid, you were just tryin’ to do right by her. Nothing.

“Wayne–”

“She ain’t what you think she is. Not if she’s anything like her bloodline.”

He says this like the realization hasn’t hit Eddie like Carol hit you on Friday fight night.

He says this like people haven’t been saying the same thing about Eddie for years.

–

Monday morning comes and you’re still somewhat suffering. A headache nags at your temple, but you pin that down to anxiety rather than an extended play of your hangover.

It occurs to you that you should dress as down as possible today– realistically, of course, as you’d never be caught dead in sweatpants. You need comfort, you need something that feels like a well-worn blanket so you opt for a deep burgundy sweater dress that actually belonged to your mom in the 60s.

You’d found it in the back of her closet when searching for a belt you knew she’d stolen from you and pulled it out. Mom! you chirped, How cute! How come you never wear this?

Oh, God, she’d cringed, batting the garment out of her way as she passed you in a cloud of Shalimar, Just throw that ratty thing out for me, would you?

But you didn’t. You kept it tucked away in the back of your closet and took it out when you needed it. When you needed to bury your face in it. Substitute it for a comfort she refused to give you. Which you realize is terrifically sad, but so’s life.

The warm red is a distant cousin in the color family to the bruise under your eye. That bruise, it’s a glaring reminder of what a fucking loser you’ve become. The old you, the real you would never have stooped to that level– never had let them drag her down like that. But now you’re the kind of girl that screams and starts fights at parties, you guess.

Your rage feels ugly in the cold light of day.

You’re locking the door of the trailer behind you just as Munson emerges from his humble abode and it’s nothing short of awkward. Like you’d both seen each other naked or something.

You both stand there, in your relative doorways. His mouth gapes like he’s about to say hi, say something, and a memory comes back to you. Cold shock in the middle of a summer’s day. No one likes that. No one wants that.

Regret stabs at you.

“Can you see it from there?” It’s the only thing you can think of to say, because you’re sure as fuck not saying hi.

“What?”

“The bruise. Can– can you see it from over there?”

Munson sort of half-snorts. “Not from here–”

“Ugh, thank god.”

“--but this is like, over fifteen feet away.”

You roll your eyes, which hurts a lot, thanks guy, and walk toward his van.

“Now?” you say, waving a hand under your eye, right where you’ve applied and blended and applied and blended a criminal amount of concealer. Munson leaves about a foot of space between you, on purpose, and you crane your neck back, on purpose. Reinstating the forcefield between you.

“Oh yeah, you can barely even see that you got your ass kicked.”

“It’s not even eight in the morning, Munson. Do you really want to start your day with a knee to the balls?”

“You’re right. That’s usually an after-dinner activity,” he grins and jerks his head toward the van. “Need a ride?”

Need a ride? Like it’s the most ordinary, everyday thing in the world, Eddie Munson offering you a ride to school in his deathtrap of a van. Your stomach pulls at the sense memory of being in there on Friday night, and what you’ll look like getting out of it in the parking lot of Hawkins High.

“No,” you say, shaking your head, definite and resolute. “I’m walking.”

He scoffs. “C’mon. It’s too late to start walking now. You’ll be late for first period.”

You scoff back, imitating him. “So what?”

“You’re never late for first period.”

“I can be late– how the hell do you know I’m never late for first period?”

“Because, dummy, I’m always late for first period,” he tells you, yanking open the passenger door, “And I sit behind you in History, and you’re always there when I come in, leaning back with your nose in some dumb book and your stupid hair all over my desk.”

It’s true– you are always reading in history, because Kaminsky can’t teach for shit and you’ve already read ahead on the coursework anyway. You liked to rub that in his face by pulling out some unprescribed literature during class. Plus, no one you really care about is in your class, so you don’t have to worry about getting made fun of for having your nose in some dumb book. Illiterate jocks would never try that shit with you– nobody there would.

Until now.

And it’s true that Eddie Munson sits behind you, and barrels in like an idiotic excuse for a hurricane with some idiotic excuse for being late that you always scoff at, because does he ever get tired of his own bullshit. But after that brief cameo appearance in your day, you really do forget about him.

Until now.

“So?” he says, all expectant.

And you consider it for a second, you really do– but you don’t think you can handle the blowback of leaving a party with Eddie Munson on Friday then turning up with him on Monday. Going to the same class. Where he sits behind you. It’s just… overexposure.

The same realization must hit him, because all of a sudden he’s slamming the door shut with a roll of his eyes. “Whatever. Your tardy slip, babe.” You can’t help but think he sounds a little wounded.

But fuck it. Fuck it! Since when do you stand around feeling sorry for Eddie Munson?

Before you know it, the van roars out and leaves you in the dust.

You don’t make it to school until after second period, because that so-called bus route a fifteen minute walk from the trailer park must not even exist, so you forge a note from your mom in the parking lot.

As your fountain pen hovers over the paper, brainstorming an excuse, you consider pulling out the big guns– say you had to attend visitation day at the penitentiary. Use this disaster to your advantage for once; but you pull back. Scribble something about a doctor’s appointment and dot your mother’s ‘i’s with eerie precision.

You make quick work of dropping the note off in reception– the uptick of being the kid of the town’s gossip beacon is some people still feel sorry for you. Some people weirdly include Janice, Principal Higgins’ secretary, who snatches the note from you before you can even reach the actual receptionist’s desk.

“I’ll file that for you, dear,” she says, all coo-cooey with an unwelcome hand on your shoulder, “How are you and your poor mother doing these days? And your,” her croaky voice drops to a whisper, “dad? How is… he being treated?”

You blink at her, gripping the fountain pen in your hand. “Do you know what a shiv is, Janice?”

Just then, the bell trills and you take your leave, stepping out into the linoleum.

Someone calls your name from down the hall. You crane your neck to see Ronnie Ecker jogging toward you, paper in hand.

Now look, you’ve never had a problem with Ronnie Ecker. You can’t say you’re particularly fond of her but she’s smart; she keeps to herself and she was a decent lab partner during your junior year of dissecting frogs together. Squeamish, but that’s why you were there, to handle the scalpel. As much of a social outcast as she is, she’s not nearly as odious as the rest of them. That’s pretty goddamn remarkable amongst the Hawkins student body.

She is also, you’ve come to notice, a resident of Forest Hills trailer park.

“Hey!” she says, “Um, I noticed you missed first period and Kaminsky was handing our papers back so I figured you’d want yours…”

“Why is everyone so obsessed with me missing first period?”

“Huh?”

“No– nothing,” you huff, taking the paper from her. A solid B on A+ material– told you Kaminsky couldn’t teach for shit. He’d be hearing from you about this. “Thanks for this, Ronnie.”

You start down the hall but notice Ronnie’s keeping in step with you. “I also just wanted to say– I heard about what happened Friday. And I think it’s sick, you standing up to Hagan like that. Asshole needed to be put in his place.”

Well, there’s only one person she could have heard the nitty gritty of that news from. You know she’s trying to flatter you, but all you feel is a flame of embarrassment, plus a touch of anger– even though the news has easily circulated the school hallways by now.

Along with the rumors of you taking Hargrove, Buckley and Munson, and not in a fight.

“Well. Y’know. I was pretty wasted,” you attempt to brush it off and you see Ronnie deflate a little.

Like you’re not the blazing hero someone made you out to be.

“Okay, but is it true you had a threesome with Billy Hargrove and Robin Buckley and Robin was wearing the Tigers mascot suit?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.”

–

Classes pass in a monotonous blur, like most Mondays, but worse. That would be thanks to the extra shot of dread that’s served with your cafeteria meal of a wilted salad and soda. Last week at lunchtime, you at least had a tenuous standing with your former circle– you could still sit between Tina and Nancy Wheeler and suffer Tina’s thinly veiled jabs at you with a semi-placid look on your face. Nancy would look at you with eyes full of pity, and you’d want to punch her face in, but you’d be fine.

But now, as you stand in the cafeteria swirling with people and catch the death glares from your old table (save for Nancy and Steve Harrington, who just straight up refuse to make eye contact with you), you’re just about ready to snap.

Your flight instinct tells you to toss the tray out of your clammy hands and run, and keep running, until you disappear into the woods behind the school, never to be found. Your body becomes mulch before anyone remembers to look for you. Maybe you make really good fertilizer and a couple of pretty weeds sprout up from where you die.

Your bruise, under its flaking layers of concealer, throbs twice– as if to say, don’t you fucking dare.

You make a confident beeline for the table, chin tilted and eyes set in a stare that could be categorized as withering, if only it was trained on anybody in particular. You grab a chair that some dumb underclassman is about to sit in and drag it with you, legs screeeeeching across the waxed floor.

Who gives a shit who you were on Friday night.

“I can sit here, right?” you say, and place your tray on the table next to Ronnie Ecker.

She just stares at you for a hot second. That’s too long to stay standing in uncertainty, so you settle your stolen chair at the table and sit next to her.

Ronnie isn’t the only one staring, however– the rest of these dorks, all in their matching t-shirts with Satan’s fiery head emblazoned across them, are watching you with their mouths agape.

“Is this a prank or something?” one of them, a curly-haired freshman, says.

This question is directed toward their fearless leader, decked out in denim and leather at the head of the table. That is to say, the direct opposite end of the table that you’re sitting at.

“That’s no way to greet a lady, Gareth,” Munson says, feigning coolness but you can tell he’s a little flustered. The dead giveaway is in the way he misses his mac and cheese with his fork, the way his solid gaze double-blinks. You’ve thrown him off game– and because he’s impossible not to overhear sometimes, you know that game is all he’s got going on at this table.

There’s that feeling again– point to Lacy.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?”

This is Munson’s version of what the hell do you think you’re doing, but you choose to ignore him. It’ll drive him insane, and you know that, glaring red warning sign that he is. Instead, you flash a smile at the freshman that almost makes him pass out, Cupid’s arrow struck straight through the heart.

You cross your legs and angle your body toward Ronnie– and by extension, in the direction of your old table. You can see Carol burying her face in Tommy’s shoulder, the both of them on the verge of losing bowel control with laughter. Laughter at you.

Who gives a shit who you were before Friday night.

“So, Ronnie,” you say, taking a sip of your Tab, “You get up to anything fun this weekend?”

author's notes: let me get ahead of everything and say yes, i am absolutely fucking with the timeline. suspend your disbelief, my beautiful babies, and enjoy steve, carol, tommy and ronnie ecker still being in high school because I SURE WILL. but on an absolutely serious note, thank you so much for all the support and each and every note you’ve put on the chapters so far. i seriously, seriously appreciate it. now, the notes: - you think eddie munson doesn’t fuck with pee-wee herman heavy? you think he didn’t watch this movie in reefer rick’s, high out of his gourd, and think oh yeah i love this freak? get REAL! RIP paul reubens, this one’s for you. specially every time i mention a handjob - eddie munson also has charlie kelly disease - speaking of iterations of always sunny characters, much like frank reynolds, there’s not a get rich quick scheme al munson hasn’t tried. we’ll get into that a little more… later - admittedly, the whole ‘face eating on bath salts’ thing didn’t gain traction until the 00s, but if hawkins is going to be ahead of its time in anything, it’s fucked up shit happening to people! - did you notice how i blended eddie and lacy’s povs in the van? i’m going to continue doing that in moments where they’re on a similar ~wavelength~ - jimi hendrix did unfortunately die of asphixiation, but instead of thinking about that, watch this sick video of him playing guitar that eddie definitely has committed to memory - RONNIE ECKER KLAXON. i know that in flight of icarus she’s described as tall, but that hasn’t stopped me fancasting her as ayo edebiri in an eddie munson wig - at this point, you might be thinking damn, everyone sure seems to hate each other in this story. like, why is nancy wheeler catching strays? i’m here to remind you it’s the 1980s and teenagers kind of suck. play the track - thanks again for all the love! you can keep this crazy train going by liking, commenting, reblogging and generally showing me the same kindness you’ve shown me so far. love u my little hellcats

#published by powder #in progress #hellfire & ice #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #e. munson by powder

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tsumtsumrry · 11 months

Text

my masterlist 🤍

tiny disclaimer: everything here is stuff that has been posted on this account, to find any of my old stuff that hasn't been posted here you'd have to go to my old account ch3rrybabyhon3y. i would post everything here but i'd feel so annoying flooding the tags lol. if there's anything specific you'd like to see/read again, send me an ask and i'll be more than happy to post it. kisses.

ordered from new to old 🤍

indicators: smut ☆ fluff ❁ angst ♪

one-shots:

Doctor's Orders: in which you have an interesting visit with your gynecologist when you come to him with an inconvenient problem.

“M’name is Dr. Harry Styles. You can call me Harry, Dr. Styles, or Doc. Whatever you’re comfortable with. I’m personally fine with it all. I know your name already and…” he blows out a breath with his eyes comically wide “…basically your entire medical history so I think it’s safe to say we’re well acquainted!” You take his hand and shake it softly, a small giggle leaving your lips. You don’t miss the way he glances down at the contact. His hand feels nice. And you know it’s weird to be thinking that about your doctor, especially when that same hand will probably be somewhere near your genitals in the next couple of minutes, but his hand feels really nice against yours. Calloused and sturdy, yet gentle and soft.

You appreciate how he immediately got in tune with how cracking jokes made you more comfortable. It feels like extra effort to you and a warm feeling blooms in your chest at how attentive he is. You can tell that he cares about his patients and takes pride in his job, and it makes you feel so much more comfortable.

“Okay m’darling. Says you’re here for a regular check up. Are you sure there’s no concerns? Nothing we should be worryin’ about? S’more helpful if you tell me now so I know what to look for.” His hand goes out to motion you to lie down on the examination table. You oblige and he grins at you again, waiting for your response.

Second Visit (part two)

Film Bro: in which sleepy best friend Harry gets a little too worked up while you guys cuddle. ☆☆❁

The poor baby’s worked himself up somehow and doesn’t even realize what he’s doing, doesn’t realize how needy he is. His face wears a tortured expression, his eyebrows arched and pushed tightly together. The desperate soft sounds continue to leave his slightly parted lips and all you can think about in this moment is how much you want to kiss his lips, soft and bitten.

Honestly, you’re at a loss of what to do in this situation. Do you wake him? Do you let him keep going until he ruins his pants? Do you just will yourself to go back to sleep and pretend this never happened? You know that last one’s definitely not going to work considering how ridiculously turned on you are. With every thrust against your ass, an onslaught of butterflies assault your stomach and you feel the pool in your underwear only getting wetter.

You don’t want to stop him.

Favorite Holiday: in which you and Harry are friends with benefits ☆❁ ♪

"He plans to take you home tonight, you can tell. You two have been going at this for months, the no-strings-attached sex thing. You think it’s easy enough. There’s never been any real difficulties, just the fact that you’re trying to keep it discreet.

The first kiss was at the New Years party. You were both tipsy, he confessed that he always had a little fixation on you and how you looked in “all those pretty outfits you like to wear” and you confessed that him and his “fancy british accent”, “pretty tattoos”, and “ridiculously charming personality” never failed to have you imagining kissing those incredibly soft looking lips.

He looked at you for a second, his gaze moving from your lips to your eyes as if he was trying to gauge where your head was at. Then, at the perfect timing, the clock turned twelve and your lips were intertwined. The rest is history."

Sex Therapist: in which Harry helps you out a bit, and he's not actually a sex therapist. (but he might as well be)☆❁

"“Maybe you need someone familiar.”

You can tell he almost regretted it when he said it, but there was also something of what seemed like determination in his eyes. You can only imagine the mental battle he’s having right now.

“Someone…familiar?” You say, your tone is nothing less than breathless.

“Mhm…someone you know, someone you trust, someone that can take care of you.” You know Harry’s noticed your change in breathing, the way you tried to subtly press your thighs together, you know he’s noticed and that’s why his voice has lowered to a calculated sultry tone that you know he only reserves for times like this. He’s downright seducing you and you don’t seem to have a problem with it, “any ideas?”

Good Boy: in which harry is a brat. ☆❁

"“So sit down, and listen to me like a good boy.” she says, watching as Harry rolls his eyes. She scoffs because she knows it’s all an act, but also because she knows he’ll regret this later, when he’s on his second denial and begging her to just ‘please, baby let me come’. She knows he’ll regret it.

“No? This is how we’re doing it tonight? Alright then.” She loves it when Harry is soft and submissive and just does whatever she wants off the bat, but she can’t deny the fun in making him submit. She knows he loves it too.

Harry, is on cloud nine, he loves this, he lives for it. Being forced to submit, making her hurt him. Gives him a high like no other, really gets him going. Sometimes he regrets being smart with her when he’s on third orgasm, or his third denied orgasm, but still, he loves it."

Morning After: in which you wake up next to harry after your first night together. ☆❁

"They had sex for the first time.

In no way were they virgins, but it was just as special as anyone’s first time. She had been holding off on having sex with anyone since her last relationship, scared to give all she had to someone only for them to hurt her and walk away like her ex did. She never wanted to feel that pain again.

She was dead-set on becoming a nun before Harry found her and swept her off her feet. He loved and cared for her, showing her he would never hurt her like her ex did. It took some time, but she finally learned to trust Harry. And as soon as her walls broke down, she loved and trusted him fully. She gave her all to him.

Harry wasn’t expecting from her, he just wanted to love her. So when the opportunity came to love on her, there’s no way he could’ve passed that up."

Piper: in which sub-harry let's go. ☆❁

"Piper shakes her head at his pout and opens her mouth to speak, “I have an idea.“

Harry’s eyebrows furrow and his pout lessens a little bit, “wha’ is it?” He’s talking slower and thicker due to how overcome with lust he is and Piper fight the urge to shift her thighs at the sound of it.

“Well…” she pauses to give him a slow kiss, “you’ve been working so hard lately, been so good. Was thinking I could dedicate a night to just you. Hmm? Make you cum so hard you see stars?”

Harry’s mouth parts slightly at her words and he tries to prevent his eyes from rolling back into his head at the butterflies that just swarmed through every part of his body."

Alexa: in which you're an assistant for one direction ❁♪

"“Do you want a coffee or something? I feel weird just standing here without getting you something…” Alexa mumbles and Harry’s face falls. Her words served a (very) painful reminder that she just worked for him. She was forced to be around him. Doesn’t mean she liked him. After all she only came up to him because Niall told her he needed help with something. Harry feels pathetic.

“No…no thank you.” he murmurs and Alexa nods quickly and turns on her heel to walk away.

Harry doesn’t understand why he can’t just talk to her. Every other “employee” feels like a friend (or even family) to him. Why can’t he cross that line with the one person he wants to?"

She: in which we dream with harry ❁☆♪

"The drive of his life, where his passion is derived from. He wouldn’t be where he is without her.

Some people may say it’s foolish to be so codependent on a dream, but he doesn’t see anything wrong with it. As long as he keeps seeing her when he closes his eyes, he’s at peace.

He imagines the color of her skin, the smoothness of her body, the volume of her hair, the sound of her voice. Every day he imagines it all. Every day he dreams about it."

Laura: in which you've had enough. ♪♪

"She hates herself for feeling weak, for showing him any emotion. She’s stuck between wanting him to know that he’s hurting her and not wanting to give him the power to know that he has any affect on her at all.

“You keep acting like you didn’t know how it was going to b-” Harry starts, but Laura interjects with an angry incredulous tone, feeling like if this were a cartoon you would surely see the steam coming out from her ears.

“Are you kidding me? This isn’t how it was when it first started, even when you were doing the first album, hell, even when you were on fucking tour! This is an us thing, this isn’t just a ‘studio’ thing and you know it!”

blurbs/asks:

sub ceo harry ❁☆

friends to lovers h ❁❁

sex with h headcannons ☆❁

friends to lovers angst ♪❁

sub bestfriendrry finding your vibe ☆❁

request that's basically just porn (lol) ☆☆

subby co-worker harry ☆☆

enjoy to all your heart's content. love you loads and loads. kisses. 🤍

#harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles

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onceuponastory · 5 months

Text

first footing - bucky barnes x reader

Plot: Bucky thought he was going to spend New Year's alone, just how he likes it... until Y/N showed up. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: A few mentions of alcohol and being drunk. There's also some light mentions of Bucky's past as TWS. But as always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know! Notes: Happy New Year my lovelies! In Scotland (where I'm from if you didn't already know) we have a tradition called first footing, where the first person to enter your house in the New Year brings luck with them (and usually alcohol, hahaha). I realised I wanted to write something with Bucky and this tradition (because lord knows he needs the luck) so here we are! Consider this fic me first footing you all ❤️

Also, incase you're wondering, a dram is a small measure of whisky. Not beta'd (I wrote this quickly bc the idea hit me like an hour ago), so any mistakes are my own.

“Happy New Year!” The TV host announces, cheering with the crowd behind her, and Bucky rolls his eyes, switching it off. He hates this time of year. He knows that the old him, the Sergeant, would be out there wooing girls, with a promise to kiss each of them as soon as the clock struck twelve. He misses those days. Back when the worst thing he had to worry about was looking good for his dates, and not… everything that’s happened to him in the last seventy years. And although New Year’s exemplifies change and bettering yourself, Bucky still hates it. Sure, everyone can make a change. He’s living proof of that.

But New Year’s is just so… loud now, and there’s so much pressure to better yourself, to change something about yourself. It symbolises everything he hates. God, he really is an old man.

Or maybe he hates it because he’s spending it alone, like usual. Or that despite the amount of personal growth he’s done over the year, each new year always seems to be a horrible reminder of everything he once was, and everything he’s lost.

Now that’s not to say Bucky hasn’t been invited to things tonight. He’d just… rather do everything but. All he wants is to go to bed and pretend tonight never happened, like the old man he is.

Suddenly, a knock on the door cuts through the air, causing Bucky to frown. He’s not expecting someone tonight. He can tell who it’ll probably be though - Steve or Sam, telling him to stop being boring and to get over to Tony’s party with the others. The knock sounds again, the person clearly impatient. “Alright, alright!” Bucky groans, making his way to the door and opening it. “Steve, I told you I’m not- Y/N?”

“Took you long enough.” She teases. Bucky’s mouth drops open, and his mind goes blank. He’s speechless. All he can do is look at her. The snow caught in her hair seems to sparkle in the light, and the way she looks at him, her trademark bright smile on her face, makes his heartbeat increase and his stomach flutter.

God, she’s so beautiful.

“Happy New Year, Buck.” She smiles, holding up a bottle of whisky.

“What…what are you doing here?” Bucky gasps in confusion, yet he still can’t stop a relieved smile from gracing his lips. He doesn’t have to spend his New Year alone with his thoughts. This time, he gets to spend it with his favourite person. But another thought, one that makes his heart skip a beat, hits him. Y/N chose him. Out of all the options she had, including a fancy Stark party with the others, who are most definitely more fun than he is… she still chose to spend time with him. And that makes Bucky Barnes feel like the most important person in the world.

“Well, I was going to first foot you.…” She chuckles. “But I can’t do that if you don’t let me in.” Still frowning, Bucky steps aside and helps Y/N take her coat off.

“You’re going to what?” Y/N laughs, another burst of laughter that Bucky swears is improving his mood by the second.

“First footing. It’s a tradition where the first person to enter your house after the clock strikes twelve brings good luck with them.” She grins. “So…here I am.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to be here. I know spending tonight with an old man like me isn’t very fun. Go party.”

“No way!” Y/N shakes her head, heading to his kitchen. “There’s no place I’d rather be than here, with my favourite person.” She calls. Bucky’s heart almost goes into overdrive.

“Thank you.” He smiles, watching her go. “It means a lot.” More than she’ll ever know.

~ * ~

“Here we go.” Y/N grins, passing Bucky his dram of whisky. “Cheers Bucky.”

“Cheers, doll.” He chuckles, clinking his glass against hers. Together, they down their drink. Despite the minimal amount of alcohol, and the fact the serum means he can’t get drunk, Bucky still feels the familiar warm feeling pooling in his gut, and the heat spreading across his cheeks. And especially how all he wants to do is smile.

But that could just be the beautiful woman sitting opposite him, the candlelight casting a soft glow over her features. The one who chose him over everyone else. The one he’s so deeply and irrevocably in love with. He swears he could just kiss her right there and then. He just can’t bring himself to do it, or even tell her how he feels. Despite how much he loves Y/N, Bucky swears that the pain of losing her and her friendship would be enough to finish him off right there and then. So, he stays quiet and lets the pain of not telling her, and the thought she could be with someone else eat him up inside.

“Any other traditions for me tonight?” Bucky raises a brow.

“Other than finishing this whiskey? Nope.” Y/N chuckles as Bucky pours them both some more.

“Thanks again for tonight, Y/N.” Bucky smiles. “I mean, I wasn’t going to spend it alone. I wanted to go to the party, but-” He lies, trying desperately not to sound so lonely and pathetic. But a gentle, reassuring touch on his forearm stops him. Despite the gentleness of her touch, Bucky’s skin burns under it.

“It’s alright.” Y/N smiles. “I know.” What did he ever do to deserve someone like Y/N in his life? Perhaps he was a saint in a previous life. But even that wouldn’t be enough, make him anywhere close to worthy of having Y/N as a best friend. She looks at him intently, staring into his eyes. Bucky feels the heat on his cheeks deepening. “You know….” She chuckles.

“Mhm?”

“I know you think resolutions suck, but I have one this year. And there’s no better time than half twelve in the morning on January 1st to do it, huh?”

“I don’t think they suck, they’re just not my thing.” Bucky corrects her, but he can’t stop his brow from quirking up. “What’s your resolution?” Y/N leans in, so close Bucky can feel her breath against his skin. It’s enough to drive him crazy.

“To not let anything pass me by, to take each opportunity as it comes.” She grins.

“That’s a good resolution.” Bucky nods, regretting his words almost immediately. Why the hell would he say that, of all things?

“So. Here it goes.” Y/N takes a breath. “This may be the whisky talking, but… I refuse to go another year without telling you this. I am in love with you, Bucky Barnes.” Bucky almost keels over. He almost asks her to repeat what she just said, or even to pinch him. But then she continues. “I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way… well, it would hurt a lot, but I just have to tell you because I couldn’t bear another day without you knowing.”

Bucky chuckles, cupping her chin. “I’ve been wanting to tell you that for so long.” He smiles, and Y/N’s grin grows just as wide. “You know….” He whispers. “There’s another New Year’s tradition I can think of.” Leaning in, he softly presses his lips to hers.

Something tells him this year is going to be pretty damn incredible.

~ * ~

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racinggirl · 11 months

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unspoken words || max verstappen 1

type: one shot pairing: max verstappen x reader word count: 3.5k summary: admitting your feelings isn't that easy, especially when the man you're having feelings for is your brother's best friend... requested: yes! I've combined multiple requests for this fic, simply because I feel like they all fit well together! ''PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE write something for max thank you I love you & hey! can i request something with max that's angst to fluff or possibly hurt/comfort? feel like that trope really suits max for whatever reason?? anyways thank you! + i love your writing <;3 & driverXbestfriends!sister with max and daniel’s sister plsss & max verstappen, enemies to lovers, drivers x driver or driver x driver/bestfriend!sister & Could you do one where the reader is drunk out of her mind coming back from a party/club then maybe she throws up and max just comforts her and helps her shower to get clean?'' requests are CLOSED!!! warnings: angst, alcohol, reader being drunk, anxiety (a little?), protective!max. notes: HOOOLY FCK this took long. I think I've been working on it for literal MONTHS. However, it's finished, and I really hope you like it. Please leave a comment or even a reblog, because it's really something that keeps me motivated other than a like. Don't read me wrong, I love to get likes, it's just that a comment feels a lot more personal! Also, it's been so long, I've had to look up one of my older fics to see how I used to make this set up thingy. It's been way too long and I've missed you all <3 P.S. Did you guess correctly who the brother was?

My masterlist

Formula 1, something you had grown up with ever since your brother decided it was his passion, his world. And it slowly became yours too. Accompanying him at races became a monthly habit, and even though you were still in college, you always found a way to support your brother from the garages in the pitlane. Starting in the Toro Rosso garage, making your way to the Redbull garage. Renault was the next place you’d find yourself, and it all ended last year, in the McLaren garages.

It was a time of uncertainty for both Daniel and your family, as you knew how much love your brother had for the motorsports. He always mentioned that he’d rather live racing, than race living, because that’s what, according to him, wasn’t the goal in life. You had to enjoy every moment of your life, something he would often refer to as ‘enjoy the butterflies’.

The uncertainty soon ended when Daniel told you he was going back to Redbull. ‘’But you must keep it quiet, little one.’’ He told you with a smirk plastered on his face. ‘’Oh my god, are you for real? That’s incredible, Dandan! I’m so proud of you!’’ That was your first reaction, because you were beyond excited for your brother. Even if it was as a reserve driver, you couldn’t obtain your excitement.

It wasn’t just because of Daniel you were a Redbull fan, but ever since 2016, you had secretly started to admire the team more and more. Sure, your brother had always been your idol, and you couldn’t help but feel an intense rush of pride every time he got behind the wheel. But your attention wasn’t solely focussed on him.

Max Verstappen, currently one of the best drivers on the grid, and one of your brothers’ best friends, was the reason you could feel your heart pounding against your chest once you stepped foot back into the navy-blue garages. You and Max had known each other for quite a few years now, ever since he joined the Redbull team back in 2016. He was a few years older than you, and your admiration for him slowly grew into something more.

His talent, charm, and his fierce determination were something you found yourself captivated by, and it only grew more every time you saw him. But you were just Daniel’s little sister, at least you thought.

Monaco 2023, the Grand Prix of Europe, where the high class, fancy people wandering the paddock made you feel like a teenage schoolgirl on your first day of university. Even though you were twenty-three years old, and couldn’t complain about the money you had, you were never one to dress like you were attending a royal wedding.

You were watching the cars, and then looked at your brother, who was dressed in his Redbull polo, seated on the pitwall whilst you were standing in the back of the garage, him watching the screens. As soon as the camera turned to capture the Australian man on the pitwall, you could hear the crowd go absolutely wild. They loved him, and so did you.

After the race, you made your way over towards your brother’s apartment, changing your outfit for something more afterparty worthy. That’s where you were going, and you knew it was one of the few chances you had of being close to Max.

Realising the feelings you had for Max were more than just friendly, brought a bittersweet taste to those afterparty’s, because you knew Max probably didn’t feel the same about you. You always did your best to hide your emotions, burying them deep inside so that nobody, not even Max, could catch a glimpse of your true feelings. It was a delicate balancing act, pretending to be just friends while your heart yearned for something more.

‘’Hey, congrats on your win.’’ You embraced the Dutch driver as he was quick in placing his arms around your body, pulling you in for a friendly hug.

‘’Thanks, y/n, I’m glad you’re here.’’ He partially shouted over the music, your cheeks heating up at the thought of what he meant, or what you thought he meant.

You quickly shook that thought away and nodded at him, shooting your shiny smile, the one you and your brother had in common, and you pulled yourself away from his hug.

As the night went on, both you and Max were sharing stories and naked truths, finding yourself on a conversation that went beyond your usual banter. The alcohol loosened your inhibitions, blurring the lines between friendship and something more. It was dangerous territory, and you both knew it.

‘’Naked truth coming.’’ He said, leaning against the wall in front of you as you stood facing him, the blue coloured cocktail in your hand. Your eyes went over his features as he licked his lips, ready to tell you one of his naked truths.

‘’I’m not going to sign a new contract after this one.’’ He smirked, watching you, looking for your response. You weren’t surprised, to be fair. You kind of did see it coming, because there have been quite some rumours going around lately. But you did feel privileged as he trusted you enough to say this. It might be due to the alcohol he had burning in his system, but you liked it, you liked this intoxicated version of Max, because this way you could be close to him, without anyone thinking anything.

‘’Your turn.’’ He smirked, stepping a little closer and you could swear you felt his body heat warming you up, even though you were still a meter apart from each other. Your mind was trying to come up with something, because you had to be careful of what to say. You wanted to tell him about your feelings, you wanted to speak the words that had been dancing on the tip of your tongue for so long now, but you couldn’t, and you hated it.

‘’I think I’m in love with one of Daniel’s friends’’ you managed to spill, avoiding his eyes as you immediately tried to wash your mouth with the alcohol in the cup you were holding. You searched for the straw with your tongue, sucking the burning liquid through the straw, all the way to your throat, as if it made your words less harsh.

‘’Really?’’ Max answered, clearly not expecting this kind of naked truth coming out of your mouth. ‘’Who?’’ He immediately shot this question after the other, wanting to know which guy stole your heart, but little did he know.

‘’Do I know him?’’ You could almost facepalm yourself at the awkwardness, because now you knew you had to lie to the world champion. ‘’No, I mean, I don’t think so…’’ you simply replied.

As you continued to avoid Max’ gaze, you felt a mixture of relief and regret for not being completely honest with him. Regret, because you wanted to tell him the truth, you didn’t want to hide your true feelings any longer, but relief, because you knew that if you would have spoken the truth, things would have become more than awkward between the two of you. Besides, what were the chances that he would feel the same way about you?

However, Max’ eyes did not leave your face, trying to study your expression for a moment, he was seemingly lost in thought. The weight of his silence was hanging in the air, and you could almost hear a pin drop. Your heart was racing with anticipation, but then he finally let out a deep breath, breaking the heavy silence.

‘’Well, whoever it is, they are a lucky person,’’ he said softly, a flicker of something you couldn’t quite place crossing his eyes. Happiness? Sadness? Jealousy? Relief? You couldn’t place it. However, you started to remind yourself that he probably wasn’t talking about you, but that it must have been a general statement, a well-intentioned compliment.

As the night wore on, the music became a distant hum, the conversations of the people around you started to fade as you let the alcohol numb your feelings. It was one way of forgetting them, or at least, not having to think of them. The tension between you and Max was heavier than before, and it was as if the universe wanted to test you, pushing you closer to the edge of admitting your true feelings.

With each sip, each passing moment, your longing for Max intensified, but the fear of rejection held you back from speaking the unspoken words. You knew that crossing that thin line of friendship with Max could change everything, although you weren’t sure if you wanted to take that risk.

As the afterparty came to an end, you stumbled out into the cool night air, the city lights blurred before your eyes as you faced reality. Max didn’t love you, and the love you had for him would forever be unspoken.

‘’There you are!’’ You heard a faint voice, a pair of arms holding you by your elbows as you saw the man in front of you. ‘’Jesus, how much alcohol have you had?’’ Daniel had a concerned yet relieved expression on his face as he embraced you in a hug.

When you entered what you thought was Daniel’s apartment, alone, you immediately located yourself on the nearest couch, laying down as your stomach started to twist and turn because of the litres of alcoholic beverages you had been consuming this night. Your hand was fumbling around in your bag the moment you felt something buzz, and without blinking, you answered the phone call you were receiving.

‘’Hello… y/n?... where are you?... hello?’’

‘’Hello,’’ you managed to croak into the phone, your voice barely audible as you fought off the dizziness and nausea that threatened to consume you. ‘’I’m… I’m at Daniel’s… apartment.’’

The voice on the other end of the line sounded frantic. It was Max. ‘’Y/n, stay there. Don’t move, I’m coming to get you.’’ His tone was laced with worry, and you could hear the urgency in his voice.

As you waited, your mind started to spin, mainly because of the alcohol, but also because of the confusion. Was Max coming over because he was genuinely concerned about your wellbeing, or was he just being a good friend to both you and Daniel?

Minutes felt like hours as you lay on the couch, your mind racing with a thousand different thoughts. Finally, you heard the sound of hurried footsteps approaching the apartment. The door swung open, and there stood Max, breathless and confused at the same time. His eyes widened as he took in your state, and he rushed to your side, concern etched deep into him.

‘’What happened, y/n? Are you okay?’’ Max’ voice was filled with genuine worry, his hands gently cradling your face as he tried to assess your condition.

You forced a weak smile, trying to make Max feel a little more at ease about the situation. ‘’I… I had a bit too much to drink. I’m sorry, Max. I didn’t mean to worry you.’’

His eyes saw straight through you, his gaze piercing into yours, his worry transitioning into a mix of frustration and tenderness. ‘’You should have known better, y/n. Drinking yourself into this state… it’s not like you.’’ His words were filled with disappointment, and you felt a stab of guilt pierce through your already shattered heart.

He helped you sit up and handed you a glass of water, his touch gentle, but you felt every nerve on your skin tingling with his touch. You couldn’t help but feel the weight of his disappointment, causing you to feel even more ashamed of what you had managed to get yourself into. It was as if your actions, your decisions to drink more alcohol than you could consume to keep a somewhat sober state, caused your friendship with Max to become even more tensed.

‘’I know,’’ you whispered, avoiding his gaze as you took a sip of water, hoping it would wash away not only the physical effects of the alcohol, but also the mistakes you had made. ‘’I’m sorry, Max. I didn’t mean to disappoint you.’’

His expression softened a little, but the tension remained. ‘’You didn’t disappoint me,’’ he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of genuine concern, but also a slight frustration. Was he frustrated with himself for making you feel as if he was disappointed, or was he frustrated with you, for putting yourself in this kind of state?

‘’I’m just worried about you, y/n. You mean a lot to me, and seeing you like this… it hurts.’’

The honesty in his words made you tear up, tears welling up in your eyes. You had been longing for a moment like this, a chance to be vulnerable with Max, but not like this. ‘’Why did you let yourself get this drunk, y/n, you’re never drunk, you hate being drunk.’’

You knew he was right, and that made you feel even worse, because he knew you so well, your friendship had grown into such a big thing, that you feared breaking it. You were scared of crossing that thin line, and losing Max, both as a friend, and possibly something more than that.

But you knew you had to spill the words, because the pain of keeping your feelings bottled up was becoming unbearable, even if the fear of rejection still lingered.

‘’I…’’ You started, trying to one by one collect the words, the words that would cause either a lot of damage, or a lot of relief. ‘’I’m sorry for everything. I just can’t hide it anymore. I’m sorry for hiding my feelings, for not being honest with you. I… I love you, Max. I’ve loved you for so long, and it’s tearing me apart. I thought maybe if I’d get wasted, I’d stop the pain in my chest, at least for this evening. Because I couldn’t bear it anymore, it hurts.’’

The room fell silent as your confession hung in the air, the weight of your emotions suffocating you. Max’ eyes widened, his gaze searching yours as if trying to decipher the truth behind your words.

‘’Y/n,’’ he whispered, his voice barely audible. ‘’I… I had no idea.’’

This could go two ways, and that mixture of hope and fear filled you up, danced within you as you waited for Max to speak again, you had to know if he felt the same way. But before he could respond, a voice broke through the tension that had been built up, slicing through the moment of vulnerability you were in right now.

‘’What’s going on here?’’ Daniel’s voice boomed from the doorway, his eyes filled with concern and confusion as he took in the scene before him.

You quickly managed to stand up, your hand rising to wipe the tears that were on your skin, the rawness of your emotions leaving you in a horrible situation right now. Max stood up as well, his gaze shifting between you and Daniel. He was lost for words, and it was evident on his face.

‘’Daniel, I…’’ you began, struggling to find the right words, how were you going to explain to him that you just confessed your feelings to one of his best mates? You didn’t have to, because your brother held his hand up, cutting you off.

‘’Not now,’’ he said firmly, his voice filled with a mix of protectiveness and disappointment. ‘’Y/n, let’s get you to bed. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.’’

And so, days went on, you explained Daniel you just drank a little too much, and that Max was there to bring you home, and waited till he would arrive home so Max could go to his own apartment. You hated lying to your brother, because you two were so close, and you felt as if the tension with Max now also elongated to you and your brother.

It was race weekend, yet again, and you and Max had avoided each other the entire week already. You never received an answer from him, after you poured your heart out, explaining to him you had been in love with him for a while now.

Every time you saw Verstappen in the paddock, you felt a pang of regret, wishing you had never revealed your true feelings. Those once unspoken words were better than the distance the two of you had now, the pain of those unspoken feelings was better than the pain you felt every time you saw the Dutch man.

It became harder to pretend everything was normal when the truth hung in the air, casting a shadow over your interactions. The once vibrant friendship between you and Max seemed to fade, replaced by awkward glances and strained conversations. The pitlane, once a place of excitement and joy, now felt suffocating, reminding you of what you could never have. Max.

As the season progressed, you found your strength in supporting your brother at Alpha Tauri and throwing yourself into your studies. You buried your emotions deep within, trying to move on from the pain of rejection. But no matter how hard you tried, thoughts of Max lingered the corners of your mind, constantly reminding you of those words that were no longer unspoken.

Months passed, and the distance between you and Max only grew wider. The dynamics within the team had shifted, mostly because Daniel was no longer in the same garages as Max was. This made you feel like an outsider, looking in. The once close group Daniel would bring you along in, was now separated, fragmented, and you longed for days when everything was simpler, when your love for Formula 1 brought you together rather than tearing you apart.

One evening, as you sat alone in Daniel’s apartment, as he was in Italy for some meetings for Alpha Tauri, you received a text message from a not unknown number. Curiosity and a glimmer of hope filled your heart as you read the words on the screen.

‘It’s Max. Can we meet and talk? I need to apologize.’

Your heart raced with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. You agreed to meet him the next day at Daniel’s apartment, knowing your brother wouldn’t be home this week anyways. He gave you full responsibility for the apartment.

When you opened the door and saw Max standing there, you couldn’t help but notice the weariness in his eyes. He looked nervous, his usually confidence replaced by vulnerability. As he walked inside the apartment, he sat down after you gestured for him to take a seat on the sofa.

‘’I’m sorry, y/n,’’ he began, his voiced laced with regret. ‘’I didn’t handle things well after you confessed your feelings. I was caught off guard, and I didn’t know how to respond. I let our friendship suffer because of it, and I’m sorry.’’

You sat up straight, taking a deep breath to maintain your somewhat calm heart. You had missed the connection you once shared with him, and hearing him acknowledge his mistakes brought a sense of relief. Even though your feelings for him were still very much apparent, you’d rather deal with that pain, than the pain of never seeing him again.

‘’I understand,’’ you whispered, your voice filled with a mixture of pain and forgiveness. ‘’It’s not easy for either of us. I never wanted to jeopardize our friendship, but the feelings became too much to bear.’’

Max reached across the couch and gently took your hand in his, a glimmer of hope shining in his eyes. ‘’I’ve been doing some soul-searching, y/n. I realised that I’ve been pushing my own feelings aside because I was afraid of losing what we had. I guess you just had more balls to admit it, which made me think.’’

Your heart skipped a beat, hoping flickering within you. ‘’What are you saying, Max?’’

He took a deep breath, his grip on your hand tightening. ‘’I’m saying that I’ve come to realise how much you mean to me. I’ve been blind to the love that’s been right in front of me all this time. I don’t want to let fear hold me back anymore. I want to give us a chance.’’

The emotions you were feeling at this moment were all over the place – joy, relief, and a renewed sense of hope. The pain and regret that had haunted you for so long began to dissipate, replaced by the possibility of something beautiful.

‘’I want that too, Max. I’ve been forcing myself to get a grip and end my feelings, but I couldn’t. I’ve never stopped loving you.’’

In that moment, the weight of unspoken words lifted, and the hand Max was holding a few seconds ago found itself at his cheek. His hands slowly moved from your arms to your cheeks, pulling your face closer to his.

‘’May I?’’ He whispered, his voice so delicate, gentle, barely above a whisper. You always imagined your kiss with Max to be out of this world, but the tender feeling of his lips, the smell of his minty breath and his hands caressing your cheeks as if you were a porcelain doll were more than you could ever imagine.

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gojoloves · 9 months

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✧˖°. little blue bars ✧˖°. fem!reader x gojo, x sukuna, x geto, x toji, x nanami 5.2k words kinks and warnings: submissive reader, sixsome, recreational drug use, oral sex, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, anal sex, anal fingering, creampies, unprotected sex, dirty talk, degredation, praise kink, nipple play, no real aftercare (but it's implied), uhhh i think that's it?

author's note: heavily inspired by heichoe's "polluted" on ao3, which i'll link to in the replies!

loud music, the smell of cigarettes tinging the air, and seemingly free-flowing alcohol - just another typical scene for a lot of students. the party is packed, with people dancing in the middle of the room and just as many others huddled on the sidelines, whether spreading gossip or making out like they don’t have an audience.

you push your way through the throngs of people, looking for a familiar face. you notice a few students from your classes, but none you actually give a shit about talking to. you’re looking for your friends, and you find yourself bummed out all over again that utahime hadn’t been able to come because of work, and shoko had bailed at the last second, not even bothering to give a reason. typical.

the other two girls saying they couldn’t come to the party and, consequently, the “after party” left you feeling a little conflicted. it wasn’t uncommon for all of the group to gather at sukuna’s apartment after the usual friday night festivities. but did you really want to be the only gal rolling up to what was now, for all intents and purposes, a boys’ night?

feeling fingers wrap around your right bicep, you turn to look at the culprit. recognizing the mess of white hair before even registering his face, you let out a sigh of relief. “there you are,” you say. “i’ve been looking for one of you.”

“why?” he asks. “you ready to head out already? so early?” one corner of his lips tugs upward, his usual grin itching to show itself already.

you roll your eyes at his jab, choosing to ignore it. “i think i’m going to just head home for the night, let you guys enjoy yourselves or whatever you freaks do when we’re not around.”

gojo shakes his head. “no, no. come hang out with us. it won’t be the same without you,” he says, the persuasive nature of his personality already showing its hand. you know that he knows that he can get you to agree to just about anything if he butters you up.

and it’s working, even if you tell yourself it’s just that you don’t feel like arguing. you give in with a nod.

“cool,” he tells you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as he uses his body to guide you through the other students in the apartment. “the others already left, went back to the apartment. we’ll meet up with them there.”

sukuna’s apartment is nothing fancy - it’s a studio apartment, and between the two couches in the living room and the bed just off the side of the common area, there’s plenty of space for all of the group to hang out.

just as gojo had said, the other three men were already there, seated on the living room furniture, yelling about something that had happened earlier during the week. when you and gojo enter the apartment, the yelling cuts short as greetings are exchanged.

“so nice of the princess to join us,” toji says with the hint of a smirk popping up at the edges of his lips.

you click your tongue at the remark. “you can thank gojo for that. i was going to let this be a sausage party, but he convinced me otherwise,” you respond, walking over to the couches. as you go to grab a seat, sukuna has other plans, his hands finding your hips and pulling you down into his lap. your breath hitches in your throat as he grabs you, but you otherwise doesn’t show any resistance.

it’s not like you haven’t been in this exact position with him before.

“nah, she wouldn’t leave us here like that,” sukuna says, resting his chin on your shoulder as he speaks. “would you, babe?”

you make a noise of vague approval in return, watching as gojo walks into the adjoining kitchen. it’s strange that nanami isn’t there, you think, but you brush the thought aside as you hear geto speak to you.

“you look awful comfortable sitting there. something we should know about you and sukuna?” geto asks, the tip of his tongue hanging out of his mouth to further showcase the intended cheekiness of his comment.

before you can respond, sukuna’s speaking up. “as if you don’t know she’s a whore for me,” he says. “quit playing dumb.”

you quickly turn to look at him, your cheeks heating up at his words. “what the fuck?” you whisper, squirming around to get out of his lap, but his hold on your hips only tightens. you steal a glance in the opposite direction to look for support from gojo, but he’s leaning against the kitchen island, staring at you as he sips from a cup of god knows what.

“don’t be so uptight,” gojo says, his usual cocky grin present. “you know how guys talk about these things.”

maybe so, but you didn’t think sukuna would blab about your hookups to your mutual friends. find friends to tell that don’t know and interact with you on a daily basis. that’s what you’d done, anyway - despite all of your temptation to dish the details to utahime and shoko.

“think i might be a bit jealous, even,” geto says.

“right? if you’re giving it up so freely, why are you holding out on us?” toji prods.

you watch gojo walk over to stand in front of where you and sukuna sit on the couch. you look up at him with wide eyes, and you aren’t sure how to feel about the look on his face. but your attention to his expression soon fades as you realize he’s holding up a small, unlabeled pill bottle, pinched between his index finger and thumb. he gives it a shake.

“that’s because you two don’t know about what makes her loosen up so much,” he says knowingly, opening the bottle to reveal a couple of small, oval-shaped, blue pills. “how about it?”

you know what they are, without a doubt, and you’re suddenly able to put two and two together. they had planned this between them, likely when they found out the other two women wouldn’t be around - for you to come over, to get you high, to have some fun with you.

and honestly? the thought really turned you on.

“open,” sukuna says, reaching around to place his hand on your jaw, your mouth opening pliantly.

gojo watches you closely to see if there’s any resistance. when your eyes meet his, you give the smallest nod. it’s all the confirmation he needs to drop one of the pills into your mouth, handing you the cup he was previously drinking from.

as you tip the glass back, sukuna lets his hand drop, both of them resting on your thighs. “good girl,” he says. “let that kick in, then we’ll have some fun.”

you’re not entirely sure which comes first: the lightheadedness from the xanax you’ve taken or sukuna taking your top off, discarding it to the side like he has absolutely no use for it. he doesn’t, really.

the black bralette you have on underneath leaves little to the imagination - the silver bars through your nipples pushing tightly against the lace - as the previously mentioned man runs his hands down your sides, still holding you on his lap. you rest your head back against sukuna’s shoulder, looking up at the ceiling.

“feelin’ a bit more relaxed?” he whispers in your ear.

that’s one way to put it. you nod, enjoying how much your body feels like its weightless, how it’s as if his hands are on fire against your waist. “yeah, i feel good,” you answer.

toji chuckles from the corner of the other couch, patting the empty cushion between him and geto. “then why don’t you come over here and join us?” although it’s a question, it’s not meant as one. you know that much, can hear it in his tone.

sukuna nudges you to rise to your feet, and you take the few steps between the two couches. as soon as you’re settled between the two of them, toji’s hands are on your hips, angling you towards him a bit more. wordlessly, he moves to begin unbuttoning your skirt. you let out the softest whine, but your attention is soon drawn away by geto taking your chin into his hand.

“and to think i’d have thought you’d be a brat,” he murmurs, a malicious grin appearing as he speaks.

“she is when she’s not high,” sukuna retorts. “but she’s obedient when she’s got a little something extra in her system.”

you can feel your cheeks getting hot again. just because it’s true doesn’t mean he has to say it, you think, and you send him a short glare in a feeble attempt to get him to shut his mouth. he only stares you down, unrelenting. when has he ever let you have power over him, anyway?

you break the eye contact, shifting your gaze to gojo. he’s watching as toji finishes getting your skirt off, but his expression doesn’t change. that’s somehow more scary, knowing him.

“come here,” geto says, fingers gripping your hair as his lips connect with your neck. “don’t worry about them right now. you’re busy.”

you can feel the pads of toji’s fingers grazing over your bare thighs and, to your embarrassment, your legs are spreading before you can really stop them from doing so. toji laughs under his breath, a bit of mockery in the sound. “get one xanny in your system and you open up this much, huh? we should’ve done this to you a while ago,” he says.

you know you should tell him off - even if he is right, and god, he is - but with geto’s kisses moving to your lips, his tongue seeking yours immediately, you don’t have the chance. your position is a bit awkward, waist twisted sideways as you’re lying on your backside, but there’s no way in hell you’re going to complain about it. you’ve got other things goin on.

“you’re spoilin’ her too damn much,” sukuna says. “make her get to work.”

geto makes a sound of disapproval. “you always this mean to her during your hookups? maybe i’m spoiling her to make up for your lack of reciprocation,” he says coolly.

if it bothers sukuna, he doesn’t show it. he simply grins, teeth bared, as he replies. “she wouldn’t come crawling back like she always does if she wasn’t taken care of.”

you’re only half-listening to them as you run your palm over the front of geto’s sweats, prompting a hiss from the man. you look up at him, tilting your head slightly. it’s clear what you’re waiting on, and geto’s not stupid. he slides both his pants and boxers down in one go while you prop yourself up on one elbow, spitting into your hand before taking his dick into your grasp.

toji’s cupping his hand over the front of your panties, letting you work your hips against his palm. “god, you’re that desperate for it, huh?” he asks, moving to kneel on the floor in front of the couch. he kisses up one thigh before pressing his tongue against the fabric, making you yelp.

your own lips wrap around the head of geto’s cock, tongue flicking over the tip. “that’s right,” he says lowly, letting his head rest against the back of the couch as you get him off.

you’re vaguely aware of your underwear being pulled down before feeling his breath against your bare skin, but geto’s grip on you holds steady, keeping you bobbing up and down on him. when you feel toji’s tongue on you, though, you moan, causing geto to bite back a groan of his own.

“we both know you can do better than that,” sukuna says.

gojo laughs under his breath, entering the conversation for the first time since this had really started. “she’s getting warmed up. she’ll do fine,” he says.

you continue stroking geto as you hollow your cheeks in around his tip, the sensation of one of toji’s fingers pressing into you as his tongue laps at your clit feeling way, way too good. you’ve imagined this before, the way your thighs would feel wrapped around his head, and you’re relieved he’s even better than you’d expected. hell, he doesn’t have the reputation he does for no good reason, right?

geto’s breathing is steadily growing shallower, and you know it won’t be long until he’s blowing his first load of the night. you pull off of him quickly, still stroking to keep the momentum up. “where do you wanna finish?” you ask, batting your eyelashes at him.

“keep it clean and swallow like you should,” geto tells you, pushing your head back down on him.

you feel toji add a second digit to his demonstrations, your hips rising a little as you press against his face. when he laughs under his breath at you, you feel him curl his fingers upwards, making you jolt a little.

as you do, geto’s own hips surge forward, his cum coating the inside of your throat as you swallow around him. before you can pop off of him, he looks down at you, staring you in the eye. “don’t be wasteful,” he tells you. “swallow it all and show me.”

when you do lift your head, you open your mouth, tongue hanging out languidly.

geto reaches behind your back, popping your bralette unhooked and discarding it with the rest of your clothes. he moves to sit you in-between his legs, toji following along, his fingers never letting up their motions inside of you.

you moan, looking over to gojo and sukuna as geto begins playing with your nipples, tugging at your piercings. “wonder why you’d get these,” he teases curiously. “what leads a sweet girl like you to get this done?”

“k-kuna wanted me to get them done,” you mutter, breath ragged as toji continues his assault on you.

“kuna?” geto repeats mockingly. “you do everything kuna tells you to?”

sukuna raises an eyebrow from where he sits, again not bothering to take geto’s bait.

“clenching around my fingers, doll? you getting close for me?” toji asks, lips wrapping around your clit to take you higher, your back arching up as you whimper his name under your breath. “go ahead, let it go. show us how good you look when you come.”

as your first orgasm of the night overtakes you, you can hear sukuna laughing. it both delights and terrifies you, unable to even take a guess at what’s prompted the emotion from him. when you rest back against geto’s chest, you looks down at toji, who’s now got his fingers, covered in your juices, wrapped around his cock. it’s a sinful display, and it causes you to lick your lips without even realizing it.

“why don’t we move her to the bed?” gojo suggests, an eyebrow quirked as he looks at you, his sunglasses lowered down his nose a bit.

sukuna scoffs. “i didn’t tell any of you fuckers you could use my bed, make it all messy,” he says indignantly.

“bill me for the dry cleaning,” gojo mutters dismissively, walking over to you and lifting you up with ease. it’s no surprise; he’s always been strong. he walks you over to the bed, toji following, dick still in hand. the perk of a studio apartment, you guess, is that even from their seats on the couch, geto and sukuna still have front row access to the show. “get on your hands and knees, baby. can you do that?”

you do as you’re told, and you can hear gojo unbuckling his belt behind you. toji comes to stand in front of you, and as soon as he drops his hand, you’re taking his shaft into your mouth.

“goddamn, you got a mouth made for this,” toji praises, resting his hand on your cheek.

gojo spreads your legs apart, wrapping an arm around your waist from behind. “looks like fushiguro got you nice and opened up for me,” he says. you nearly purr as you feel him drag his tip up and down your slit, teasingly pressing against your hole, but never enough to actually give you any type of satisfaction. you can feel yourself clenching around nothing in anticipation.

and he has the nerve to laugh at you for it. as he finally slides into you, giving in when he sees you pout, he leans his head close to your ear. “this ‘s been a long time coming, huh?” he whispers before sitting back up, grabbing hold of either side of your waist as he fucks in and out of you.

“think she likes it when we talk to her like that,” toji says, smirk growing on his face. “you like being treated like this? your friends using you to get off?”

you nod without hesitation, and you hear all of the men give some form of a laugh in response. if your cheeks weren’t already flushed from pleasure, you think they’d be red as a tomato from the way you grow wetter at the embarrassment.

gojo’s hold on you shifts to wrapping around your thighs, spreading your legs even more for himself. “god, how are you this tight, pretty girl, huh?”

“got a tight little body, tight pussy. tight little ass, too, i bet,” toji says, thrusting to fuck your face.

“wonder if we should find out,” gojo muses, the mischief in his voice making you squirm.

sukuna gestures lazily to the nightstand. “lube’s in the top drawer. she’ll act like she doesn’t want it, but she does,” he says.

you pop off of toji’s dick again only briefly to fire back a rebuttal. “do you ever shut up?” you groan, the sound turning to a moan of pleasure when gojo reaches down to toy with your clit.

toji guides your attention back to his dick, which you eagerly takes back into your mouth, looking up to make eye contact with him. he reaches over to the nightstand drawer, opening it and fumbling around before finding the lube, tossing it to gojo.

his blue eyes gleam with mischief as he opens the bottle, using one hand to separate your ass cheeks a little more before letting a glob of the cool, clear liquid pool at your hole. “you like having your ass played with, baby?” he coos, running his thumb around your rim as he continues to fuck you.

you nod eagerly. you think you hear sukuna mutter something about remembering that, but you’re a little too gone to care. your lightheadedness has gotten worse, and you feels so overwhelmed that you can hardly focus on anything but the pleasure.

toji grunts. “gonna come,” he says, thrusts growing rougher against your throat. you let him control the pacing, gagging around him until you feel his rhythm falter, cum filling your mouth. you attempt to swallow all of it, but some dribbles out past your lips, and toji can only laugh as he tries to calm his breathing. “that’s all right, honey. i’m not mean like geto. i like it a little messy.” his accompanying wink makes you want to melt.

you can only smile as your eyes roll back in your head at gojo pushing his thumb into your asshole as you rock back against him.

sukuna looks like he’s about to speak up when there’s a knock at the door. you expect gojo to stop, expect them all to try to pretend like they were doing anything else, but he doesn’t. none of them do. toji’s hand flies out to muffle your moans, and gojo’s pace doesn’t give at all.

your eyes widen as sukuna opens the door. all that separates you from the unknown person is that very piece of wood. if the guest stepped just a little more than two feet into the apartment, you, gojo, and toji would be on display for them, clear as day.

“i’m late, but i’m here,” you hear a man say.

nanami.

sukuna looks over at the three of them, then back over his shoulder to geto. it happens like a chain reaction. when geto smirks, then sukuna does, then gojo, then toji. and you feel your stomach tighten, a shiver running down your spine at the mere thought.

“i’d say you’re right on time,” sukuna says. “we’ve got some, well, private entertainment. bet you’re gonna love it a hell of a lot.”

the moment nanami steps into the apartment, the air changes. but leave it to gojo satoru to break such a heavy tension by doing what he knows best: bullshitting.

“nanamin, you made it,” he says in greeting, words seeming to punctuate each thrust as his fingers continue working to stretch your ass.

the blond’s eyes widen as his eyes trail between you, gojo, and toji. toji laughs quietly, tucking his dick back into his pants. “long time no see, nanami,” toji says.

you remain quiet until you feel a smack against your ass. “not even going to greet our pal? thought you had better manners than that,” gojo says, snark leaking from his words.

“h-hi, nanamin,” you say, forcing yourself to look at him.

nanami greets you by name, dragging the syllables out as if he’s saying it for the first time. “i thought you’d be with either utahime or shoko tonight.”

geto speaks up, answering for you. “no, she’s here taking care of her boys tonight. isn’t that so generous of her?” he teases. his cock’s in his hand again, stroking slowly as he watches the show you and gojo are putting on.

gojo’s thrusts grow a bit lazier, and he’s having trouble biting back the moans that beg to slip from his lips. “pussy feels so good,” he says. “gonna - gonna come inside you, that all right?”

when you hum in the affirmative, you notice nanami reach up and tug at the neckline of his henley. your eyes meet with sukuna’s, and you can tell what he’s thinking by the look in his eyes. he’s challenging you, urging you to invite nanami to join your little game - as if he’s goading you on with a “you’re already taking four, what’s one more going to hurt?”

“fuck - ‘m coming,” gojo says through gritted teeth, emptying his load inside of you, thrusts slowing down as he makes sure you takes every last drop. for good measure, he reaches underneath you again, rubbing tight circles over your clit.

“sh - gojo -,” you hiss, rocking forward but unable to get out of his grasp.

“don’t be ungrateful, princess,” toji scolds you. “take it and say thank you.”

it doesn’t take gojo long to bring you to your second orgasm of the night, leaving you a panting mess, his hands on your hips helping hold you steady after he’s pulled out of you. he rubs his thumb over your skin affectionately, his own small contribution to aftercare, knowing your night isn’t over yet.

“you want more?” gojo asks. “think you can take more?”

you nod immediately, biting your lip. “want - want more,” you manage to say, resting your head on the mattress in front of you. you can feel gojo’s cum leaking out, and you reach between your legs, using two fingers to push it back inside of you as you make eye contact with nanami.

he lets out a breath he hadn’t intended to be holding, shaking his head. “god, how’d the five of you even end up here?” he asks, but he still reaches for his belt. he walks over to the bed, to you, letting a hand trail down your spine softly. “better yet, how did i end up here?”

“you want her cunt or her ass?” geto asks, standing up and joining you both by the bed. “because i’m taking whichever one you don’t.”

nanami seems to take just a few moments to consider. he picks up the lube from the bed, glancing down to you. “i suppose we should let her choose, shouldn’t we?” he suggests, the slightest hint of a smile showing at the corner of his lips.

sukuna sucks his teeth. “she won’t fucking care. surprise her,” he says.

you, hating to agree with him but knowing he’s right, whine. “don’t care, just want you both,” you say. “please.”

geto nudges you so that you’re on your side before turning to nanami, the two seeming to have a silent conversation with the looks they’re sharing. after what feels like forever - at least to you - nanami moves to lie in front of you. he holds your leg up, effortlessly slipping inside of you, the mixture of your and gojo’s fluids immediately welcoming him. “shit,” he curses quietly, pace slow as he gets started.

geto slots in behind you, running his hand up and down his dick, coating it with plenty of lube. he takes some more from the bottle and squeezes it onto his hand, slathering it over your hole and pushing three fingers inside. he leans forward until his lips are ghosting the shell of your ear. “gojo got you nice and ready for me, huh? nice of him, wasn’t it?” he whispers. “i think you’re ready, baby.”

you try your best to nod, but with nanami rocking in and out of you, it’s a little hard for you to focus on geto’s question.

you feel him press the head of his cock up against you, and between how turned on you are and the xanax still coursing through your body, you manage to keep your body relaxed.

“good girl,” nanami praises. “doing so well. we’re going to make you feel really good.” he leans forward, neck tucked down a bit to take one of your nipples into his mouth, his hand playing with your clit to make it as pleasurable as he can for you

“tightest fucking ass,” geto hisses. “almost there. you can take it.”

you feel so full, like you’re ready to burst at the seams, but when the two men find their rhythm, matching their thrusts so that you’re really getting your body used, it’s heavenly. you bury your face into nanami’s chest, letting them fuck into you like you belong to them. your moans get the best of you as you repeat their names, nearly fucked too stupid to say anything else.

over your own sounds, you can vaguely hear gojo, sukuna, and toji talking.

“you’ve been real hands-off tonight, sukuna,” toji comments curiously. “didn’t think it was like you to share your toys without taking a piece for yourself.”

gojo lets out a noise of mock affront. “as if he’d ever do something so selflessly.”

sukuna reaches up, resting his arms behind his head. “what can i say, gentlemen? i’m a patient man,” he says.

the statement terrifies you, but you don’t have time to dwell on it. nanami’s kissing you while geto’s playing with your nipples and sucking on your neck - your third orgasm hitting rapidly before you can so much as think to say you’re experiencing it.

nanami’s nice enough to ask where you want him to come; geto isn’t, filling your ass without a second thought. through shaky breaths, you tell nanami he can finish wherever he wants, and in the spirit of the night, he pumps his own load inside of you, the contents mixing with gojo’s and again pooling on the bed once nanami pulls out.

“how’s it feel?” gojo asks, the shit-eating grin prominent on his face. “you fucked out now?”

sitting alone on the bed while nanami and geto redress, coming down from their own highs, you sit up, spreading your legs open as you make eye contact with the only man who hasn’t had a piece of you that night.

“kuna,” you mumble.

a devilish grin appears on his face, sharp canines glistening as he stalks towards his own bed. “what is it?” he asks. “four men not enough for you? you that much of a slut?”

you nod in agreement. hell, you’d agree with anything he said about you in these circumstances, if it meant he’d fuck you. you know that’s dangerous territory, but you can’t bring yourself to care. you just can’t.

as he stands at the foot of the bed, he grabs your ankle, pulling you down to the edge of the mattress. “look how much of a mess you’ve made. got their cum leaking out of you, got fushiguro’s on your face. but you still want more, huh?”

the shame and embarrassment you felt earlier comes rushing back to you, but still, you nod. “want you,” you say under your breath.

with a raised eyebrow, sukuna reaches into his pants to pull his cock out. as he rubs it against your swollen lips, you cover your face with your hands.

“t-too sensitive!” you cry out. “i can’t, i can’t -.”

“you can,” sukuna interrupts. “you can take one more for me. i know you can. you can’t fuck all of our friends then not fuck me. i had you first. remember?”

though the pout doesn’t leave your face, you nod up at him, as if his logic makes any type of sense, that he had some sort of claim to you just because he’d been the first one of your group to get his hands underneath your skirt.

when he pushes into you, your arms quickly wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you. other than whimpers of pleasure, you’re speechless; your brain refused to formulate any type of response worth anything.

“guess we finally figured out how to shut her up,” geto comments quietly, earning a laugh from gojo and a glare from nanami.

sukuna’s mostly silent himself, short of a few pants and grunts, too focused on getting himself off after an evening of watching everyone else have their fun. when he feels your pussy contracting around him, he laughs breathlessly. “that’s it. you know you’re gonna come again,” he says. “just let it happen. give me one more.”

as you do, holding him tighter, your nails digging into his shoulder blades beneath his shirt and your heels digging into his ass, you feel him coming inside you, milking him for all that he’s got.

after a few moments, he pulls out of you and looks down between your legs, shaking his head. “gonna be a hell of a dry cleaning bill, gojo,” he says, looking over to the man he’s addressing.

gojo seems unbothered, waving off sukuna’s comment.

nanami brings over a glass of water, offering it to you, and you take it gratefully, immediately downing half of it in one go.

the six of you are quiet for several moments, the realization of the aftermath setting in for each of you. you seem to take it in stride, though, speaking up after a few minutes, your voice scratchy from all your throat has been through - vocally and otherwise.

“maybe i’ll have to crash boys’ night more often.”

#jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #sukuna smut #toji smut #geto smut #nanami smut

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thefallennightmare · 5 months

Text

Just Pretend-twenty

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Authors Note: We worked so fucking HARD on this! Please appreciate it and please 🙏 pay attention to everything.

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

NOAH

I stood in front of the mirror, straightening out my shirt, and made sure my hair was perfectly pulled back into the low bun. Excitement filled my veins, making me jittery, knowing that Y/N would be showing up shortly. We all were ready to help her and Malcolm set up for Chase’s surprise birthday party.

Y/N had been texting me the last couple of days stressing out about every last-minute detail for this party. Chase was never big on celebrating his birthday but he was turning twenty-five so she and Malcolm wanted to make sure that everything went off without a hitch tonight.

I also was nervous to see Y/N again after our conversation at Davis’ house the other night because she knew the truth; most of it anyway. Bailey and I were done, something Y/N knew. But with the stress of the party, we couldn’t continue our conversation from the other night.

The nerves were eating away at me, like a disease, so I started pacing in front of the mirror, trying to hype myself up. I woke up anxious this morning and even after meditating earlier, I still couldn’t get rid of this feeling.

I pinched my cheeks and smiled.

“Hi Y/N,” I said to myself.

No, I sound like an idiot.

“Hi, angel. You look gorgeous today.”

Eh, a little bit better.

I continued to pace back and forth in my room, muttering words under my breath.

“Hi, angel. You look beautiful today. I’m happy to have the party here.”

My feet came to a halt as I snorted to myself. “I’m happy to have the party here. Who the fuck says that? That’s so stupid. It’s just Y/N; her. Why am I overthinking talking to her?”

I get those ridiculous butterflies, even in my current state. It’s like being in a botanical garden, waiting for them to emerge. Waiting for Y/N at any stage feels like that.

“Shit, that’s corny isn’t it?” I muttered under my breath as I ran a hand over my face.

Another thing I suppose I’ve noticed about myself all this time lately. Growth in words- is this maturity? A grown man with grown feelings.

I often saw my future as not so bright and wasn’t sure if this thing called life would work out. So, I stood here in front of the mirror in my bedroom and thought that maybe this life that I yearned for would work out and Y/N possibly, maybe, needed to be included in it.

With a final deep breath, I threw on my leather jacket and then checked myself over in the mirror one last time. The black shirt underneath the jacket was pristine, not a hint of hair or lint, and my white wash skinny jeans had a hole in the knee showcasing the rose tattoo.

Y/N would be here any minute. My mind went straight to what she looked like, what she’d be wearing, and how badly I wanted her perfume to penetrate my senses.

As I bounded down the first set of steps, I turned on the landing to retreat down the rest of the stairs but came to a halt when her presence was immediately felt. In the threshold stood Malcolm and Y/N, talking with Jesse who answered the door. The bright smile on her face made my stomach twinge in a good way as my breath caught in my throat.

Her long hair fell to the middle of her back in waves. The black dress hugged every one of her curves in all the right places, stopping right beneath her ass. Her tattoos were on full display tonight. The swell of her breasts poked through the mesh part of her dress that covered her neck and chest.

I wasn’t sure if Y/N having a glowing halo effect was normal, hence why the nickname I had for her only made sense.

Angel.

It began to feel like she was specifically meant to shine for me alone, a long time ago, even with that time we were distant. I couldn’t possibly imagine another man seeing it or enjoying the warmth Y/N brought. My palms were sweating, I knew this had to be it. I had to make the move.

“You’re such a sweet talker, Jesse,” Y/N giggled while playfully rolling her eyes, tapping his cheek twice.

As I took the last step, stepping into the living room, something fell from her bag causing her to bend over to pick it up. Orie snuck up beside me and tilted his gaze toward Y/N’s ass; something I noticed immediately.

“Orie,” I seethed low.

His eyes snapped over to me, a sly smirk on his lips. “Y/N looks good, huh?”

My jaw ticked but I let out a deep breath while counting to my ten in my head.

I’m not mad. It’s innocent. It’s Orie, he knows how I feel about Y/N.

As Y/N stood tall, a bright shine from around her neck caught my attention, and gone was the anger replaced with sheer adoration. She was wearing the necklace and bracelet I bought her for her birthday.

My heart skipped a beat as our eyes finally locked.

“Hi,” Y/N smiled warmly.

“Hi, angel.”

I shifted on my feet, suddenly hot under her bright gaze. She looked absolutely breathtaking in that dress and how it hugged her tits perfectly made my cock throb in my jeans. She softly tucked a strand behind her ear and our eyes never left each other. Malcolm looked between us, a sly smirk on his lips.

“Y/N, why don’t you hand me the bags? I’ll start getting things set up while Noah gives you the tour,” Malcolm said while taking the bags of party supplies from her.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Sure.”

As she walked past me, the scent of her perfume filled my senses and my cock now ached when I remembered how pretty she looked while sitting on top of me, her hands grasping my braids.

“Oh, you smell good,” Y/N smiled up at me as I began leading her to the kitchen so she could set down the rest of the bags Malcolm couldn't carry.

My cheeks warmed and I rubbed the back of my neck. “Thanks-uh, so do you.”

“Let me take those from you,” Jolly smiled while giving Y/N a friendly kiss on her cheek.

“Thank you, Jolly.” She smiled. “Did we get enough alcohol? I ordered the pizzas but I won’t have time to pick them up. Oh shit, I forgot to buy cups!”

Y/N went to turn on her heels but I gently grabbed her shoulders to keep her in place in front of me, her back to my chest.

“You need to relax, angel. You're trying to control so much of this party. Let us help you,” I rubbed out the tense muscles in her shoulder.

“I just want to make things perfect for Chase,” she relaxed in my embrace. “The last few years of his birthday have been filled with unnecessary drama.”

My nose brushed along her hairline. “It will be fine. Davis will pick up the pizzas and we’ll have Nick buy the cups.”

“Someone has to pick up Chase. If I go, he’ll be able to read me and know something is up,” Malcolm said while unloading all the party supplies.

“Fuck, I can’t. My car is filled with the balloons,” Y/N tensed under my touch so I was quick to offer a solution.

“Okay, so this is what we will do. Davis will pick up the pizzas. Nick will stop at the store to buy the cups. Michael and Orie are in charge of setting up the alcohol. Jolly and Jesse, you guys figure out the music. Folio will pick up Chase. Those two can talk about drums or cymbals.”

Y/N instantly relaxed once again and leaned her head against my shoulder. “Matt is picking up the cake.”

My hands rubbed her arms. “See? We have everything figured out. There’s no need to stress, angel.”

“I know,” she let out a deep breath. “Thank you guys for letting us have the party here. It’s a nice place, lots of space. ”

Michael chuckled while setting up the makeshift bar on the kitchen island. “You’d think so with the five of us but I’m starting to think we’re out-growing this place.”

“Soon, it’ll be four of you. I move out at the end of the month,” Orie said as he walked into the kitchen, giving Y/N and Malcolm a fast fist bump.

“Oh, that’s right. With the Mrs,” Jesse smirked.

Orie rolled his eyes with a small smirk. “She’s not the Mrs. Yet.”

Y/N watched my roommates bicker back and forth with a bright smile which in turn, made me hold onto her a bit tighter, not wanting to let her go. From day one, she always fit in with us, never once feeling left out. Everyone welcomed her with open arms and for that, I’ll always be grateful for that.

“Angel,” I said into her hairline.

Y/N eyes sparkled as she gazed up at me, a loose strand of silky hair fell into her face, so I brushed it away and let my finger graze over her cheek.

“Hm?” Her voice was quiet.

“Let me show you upstairs,” my voice matched hers.

The corner of her lips lifted in a smile. “I’d love that.”

As the others chatted amongst themselves, I led Y/N back to the living room, hand now on her back, and as we reached the stairs Bryan walked through the front door with Matt.

“Hi!” Y/N smiled and stepped away from my embrace to give them their own separate hugs. “Malcolm is in the kitchen, he can show you guys where to set everything up.”

Matt smiled while letting his hand rest in the middle of her back. “You look beautiful, Y/N.”

I kept a watchful gaze on her, even though there wasn’t a need to.

“Oh, such a sweetheart,” she playfully pinched his cheeks. “You forgot to grab the cake didn’t you?”

“Don’t worry,” he waved her off. “Davis will pick it up on his way over here; after he gets the pizza. I already texted him.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N turned her attention to Bryan. “Did you bring it?”

He held up his camera bag. “Everything is ready to go.”

“Awesome,” she clapped her hands with excitement.

“What are you planning?” I questioned while crossing my arms over my chest.

Y/N merely shrugged with a coy smirk. “Oh, nothing. Now are you going to finish giving me the tour or what?”

I held out my arm towards the staircase on my left. “After you, angel.”

Her heels clicked against the hardwood floor only to be muted by the carpet on the stairs and I followed close behind her, Matt’s voice calling after us.

“Leave the door open, you two!”

Without Y/N seeing, I flipped off Matt and then led her down the long hallway, telling her whose room was whose. She walked in front of me, her scent filling my senses the entire time, and my hands ghosted over her hips as I led her to the last door on the left.

“Welcome to my abode! Mi casa su casa and all that shit,” I said as we came to a stop.

Y/N giggled. “And you said you couldn’t speak Spanish.”

“I tried, gave up,” I chuckled, now grasping her hips from behind.

With her standing in front of me, I stuck my arms over her shoulders to reach for the doorknob. But before I opened the door, I rested my chin on her shoulder, and Y/N immediately relaxed in my embrace.

“This is my room,” I breathed against the crook of her neck.

I saw her skin prick like a cactus as my breath tickled her sensitive skin. I only imagined her nipples probably did too but had to switch thoughts to avoid my cock twitching in case Y/N could feel it brush against her ass. I gazed down at her, my eyes immediately watching the rise and fall of her chest, and I licked my lips at the sight of them.

A light click sounded as I opened my door, gently patting Y/N’s thigh so she could walk inside. She took a few tentative steps but I didn’t let her go far without me right behind her. It’s been so long since I felt her this close and now nothing was stopping us.

My heart was so heavy with my devotion, that I nearly kneeled at her feet. If she only knew, I would do anything for her- to the fucking grave. Either way what bliss. This would be the best chance for me to explain it; to cave and tell her those three words.

I craved Y/N’s touch, her in this room was beginning to consume me and I’d fucking let her. I watched her eyes close and open slowly, her body movements so gentle she leaned into my tiny touches. The way my hand grazed up her back. The way my fingers danced with hers as we stepped through the threshold of my bedroom; her pinking hooking with mine. I was so close to forgetting what the event tonight was. All I wanted was her all to my fucking self and I wanted to throw her on my bed only to rip off that dress. My tongue craved to taste every single part of her.

Y/N’s eyes took in all aspects of my room; my desk with my computer.

“Levi, huh?” She smirked while pointing to my monitor.

Earlier, I was watching Attack on Titan and paused the episode, never exiting out of the app.

I shrugged while stuffing my hands deep into my pockets. “You know he’s my favorite, he’s pushing for Naurto to move for the top spot.”

“It’s the hair I bet,” she began looking around my room once again.

To the mirror, my bed, and the rosary beads. Her eyes darted from the bed back to me, a silent question.

I nodded, letting her know it was fine to sit, which she did by resting on the edge. I followed, not leaving any space between us.

“Shit,” Y/N cursed with a groan. “I don’t know why I even wore heels. They kill my ankles.”

Bending over, I lifted both her feet into my lap to remove her heels then set them on the bed behind me.

“But they complete my outfit,” she pouted.

I chuckled while tracing a finger over the small tattoo on her ankle, the one that mirrored mine in design and spot.

“Just rest your feet for a little while,” I suggested, eyes still on her tattoo.

Mine subconsciously began to itch with the memories of when we got the tattoos. Her birthday.

“Oh,” I said suddenly, remembering what I saw online earlier. “I saw that Hollow Souls are going on tour again?”

Y/N smiled brightly, pure excitement on her face. “Yeah. Who told you that?”

I waved her off with the hand that wasn’t grazing over her ankle. “Oh, must have been the little birds.”

“Sneaky birds. But did you see who we’re touring with?”

I hummed. “Nothing, nowhere. I bet you’re fangirling on the inside right now, huh?” I teased.

“Can you blame me?” She scoffed. “Joe’s been one of my favorite artists for years now and to experience touring with him, I haven’t stopped smiling since I got the call.”

When I first found out about this tour, I expected myself to get jealous at the thought of her being on the road with another man while being so far from me but surprisingly, I felt at peace. I trusted Y/N and knew that although she might have had an artist appreciation, I would have liked to think that her heart stayed with me.

“It will be a sick tour,” I nodded. “Maybe I’ll come out to a show and support you guys. How does it feel knowing this is your first tour as a three piece?”

Y/N played with the hem of her dress. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited; nervous but very excited. But it's still daunting to know that we have to go up there without a screamer, you know? Everyone seems to be loving our new singles but having to go out there and perform them is scary.”

“Well, if you’re ever interested in taking up screaming. There’s this great vocal coach that I’ve been looking into. She helps out a lot of artists and I have my first lesson with her at the end of the month,” I stated, fingers still grazing over her skin.

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks Mochi,” Y/N reached over and ruffled my hair.

I dragged my finger up her calf now, her skin pricking under my touch, and I dared a glance to her inner thighs and my cock was now aching in my jeans. Her head turned towards my mirror closet as she watched our reflections.

“Hm, a mirror right in front of your bed. Kinky,” she winked.

By now my cock was straining against my zipper and knew I needed to do something about it soon otherwise it would be an issue for the rest of the night. There it went again, my mind completely doing the opposite of what I wanted right now. All I saw were those erotic images over and over.

Y/N kneeled down on the floor between my legs and I shivered under her touch again as her nails raked up and down my thighs. I watched her actions from the mirror behind her, eyes drinking at the sight of her large back tattoo and the perkiness of her round ass. My cock twitched in front of her face as she gazed up at me, taking her bottom lip between her teeth.

“I’ve dreamed of the way you tasted, Noah.”

I shook the thought away but it didn't last long because another image of Y/N flashed in my mind.

A guttural groan sounded from the back of my throat and I titled my head up towards the ceiling, my long hair cascading down my back. I gripped Y/N’s head with a vise grip and guided her up and down; slowly at first until I reached the resistance of the back of her throat and buried my cock deep in there.

That dream was so vivid when I had it months ago, just as the memories are now.

Her pussy clenched over my cock as she came undone, her arousal spreading down my thighs. I hooked my fingers in her mouth to hold her up so she could watch us in the mirror now.

“Watch as I fuck your pretty pussy,” I ordered, long hair covering my face.

Y/N did the best she could to nod with my hooks in her mouth and my pace became relentless, slamming into her so hard and fast that the noises echoed throughout my room. The burning felt warm at the base of my spine as my heart pounded wildly in my chest, my own orgasm so fucking close to destroying me.

“Noah?”

My eyes snapped away from our reflections in the mirror to Y/N’s ethereal face, my fingers still grazing up and down her leg. “Hm?”

“Well, before you zoned out,” she giggled while removing her legs from my lap only to sit on her knees. “I was going to tell you, I love your house and your room! It’s- it’s cute. The LED lights are a nice touch.”

I smiled. “I love the way you look with them. Soaked in neon glows.”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled as she looked over my shoulder towards the wall where I had old Bad Omens tour posters framed.

“No way,” she muttered while climbing off the bed to gaze upon the frames. “You kept the tour poster with Hollow Souls?”

I rose to my feet, brushing away any hair or lint from my leather jacket, and stood behind her.

“Yeah, it was our first tour together. It may not have ended in the best way but it’s where we met,” I brushed away her hair from her neck, seeing the tattoo of her large snake back piece peek through the top of her dress.

Fuck, this had to be my favorite tattoo of hers. It fit her back so well, each groove of her spine.

I really should book that appointment.

My fingers now grazed over her bracelet and I hummed low in approval. “These look really good on you, angel.”

“I wear them all the time now. I never take them off. Not even in the shower,” she winked while gazing over at me.

Fuck.

My cock twitched and I let out a low groan, imagining Y/N in the shower with her necklace and bracelet only on her unholy skin. I leaned my face into the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent, and when my lips brushed against the skin behind her ear, Y/N shivered at my touch.

“Noah,” she breathed.

“I’ve missed the way you smelled,” my teeth grazed on the shell of her ear.

Slowly, Y/N turned in my embrace, now gazing up at me through those long lashes, and I sucked in a breath at her sheer beauty. That magnetic pull that we always felt between us began to vibrate within us, causing her to lean up towards my lips. I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger on the side of her neck briefly before cupping her cheek.

“Mochi,” she moaned softly.

I swallowed, my voice just above a whisper. “Angel.”

Y/N’s hands grasped at my arms, her nails digging into the leather of my jacket, and I continued to hold her face in between my hands. Our lips were so fucking close now, I could feel her warm breath fan across until the taste of raspberry lingered on my bottom lip.

“Hey, Davis is wondering if the pizzas are already paid for?” Jesse came barreling through the closed door.

My head snapped to the right, eyes narrowing at him as he peeled an orange with a smug smile on his face.

“Shit, did I interrupt something? I tend to do that. Just with different fruits,” Jesse popped a piece of orange in his mouth.

I sighed and let my hands fall from Y/N’s so I could point a finger at him. “You’re peeling an orange and the juices are dripping all over my clean floor.”

“It’s fine. See?” He wiped some of the juice with his foot, his sock getting citrus on it, smearing it all over the hardwood.

“Jesse,” I gritted out through clenched teeth. “I spent all day cleaning and mopping this entire space.”

He rolled his eyes and finished the rest of the orange in one bite. “So, Davis.”

Y/N, who was stifling a giggle behind her hand, nodded. “Yes, the pizzas are already paid for. It’s under Malcolm’s name.”

“Cool. Speaking of which, Malcolm needs help with the banner.”

“Of course he does,” Y/N shook her head with a chuckle and began to walk away.

My hand reached for hers, locking around her wrist. “Do you want some help?”

She patted my hand lightly. “I’d love that, Noah.”

As Y/N put her heels back on, I pushed Jess out of my room, orange peels and all. Then I led Y/N back downstairs with my hands on her hips.

“I swear, I’m going to have to buy a lock for my door if Jesse keeps popping in,” I grumbled.

Y/N turned in my embrace slightly to smack my chest. “Oh, be nice.”

“And if I’m not?” I teased with a raised brow.

Just as her lips parted, another shrill voice echoed through the space of the living room; one I hadn’t expected to hear.

“Hi, baby!”

Y/N’s feet skidded to a halt and I nearly tripped over her since she was still in front of me.

“Surprise!” Bailey yelled while shaking her hands, standing on the other side of the open door.

Michael stood holding the door open, unsure what to do.

“That’s not until later,” Y/N snapped with fists clenched.

Bailey’s eyes landed on Y/N and I could easily see the way her jaw ticked. “What are you doing here?”

“Excuse me?” She scoffed.

Bailey pushed past Y/N towards me, trying to rest her hands on my chest; an action I quickly brushed away.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” I asked dumbfounded.

Her brows furrowed. “I thought maybe we could talk.”

Bailey’s breath had a lingering scent of alcohol and I scrunched up my nose in disgust. She was a fucking mess; this whole thing was a fucking mess that I needed to rid myself and everyone else of.

I peered over her shoulder towards Michael and Y/N, whose eyes burned straight into my own; she was furious.

Angel- my angel. She was going to be so angry with me. I had to explain; fast. My feet couldn’t get to her fast enough

“Y/N-,” I began while stepping away from Bailey.

She shook her head, ignoring my pleas as she brushed past me. “Malcolm needs my help.”

READER

I’m angry-no, I’m furious.

Should I be angry? Do I have the right to feel this way? It’s not like Noah and I were together. I learned quickly what Bailey’s place was. He was clearly trying to make me jealous, and it worked.

I ripped apart a piece of tape to hand up to Malcolm who was standing on a chair to hang up the banner.

“What’s wrong, sweets?” He asked.

Grumbling in response to his question, I handed him another piece of tape just as Noah walked into the kitchen.

“Angel,” he reached for my arm. “Let me explain! I ended it!”

I ripped my elbow from his grasp to walk away from him, ready to help Jolly finish setting up the alcohol.

“I don’t have time for this bullshit, Noah. I have to finish setting up for Chase’s party. Not talk about unwanted guests or lies.”

His face fell. “I’m not lying. Please, can we talk?”

Malcolm stared down at Noah from the chair with confused eyes as Jolly’s gaze bounced back and forth between us. “What’s going on?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. Chase will be here soon,” I ignored Jolly.

“Y/N,” Noah begged with a trembling lip as he stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “The house is already ready. We need to talk.”

“I’m not doing this with you right now!” I spat with venom, eyes burning into his.

“Y/N,” he tried to reach for my hands but I smacked them away.

Jolly quickly picked up that something was wrong so after setting down the bottle of booze, he motioned for me to follow him.

“Let’s get some air, huh?”

Turning my back to Noah, I let Jolly lead me out of the kitchen onto their back porch, the cooling air of the afternoon immediately causing goosebumps to graze my skin; skin that Noah moments ago was touching with his lips.

“Everything alright?”

I began pacing, running a hand through my hair. “He lied to me, Jolly! He told me he broke things off but she’s here!”

He shook his head. “No, Y/N, I promise you; Noah broke up with Bailey. We can all vouch for that.”

“Then why is she here?!” I yelled with a hand extended towards the house behind him.

“She’s here to salvage whatever she can. But that’s not on him or you,” Jolly said with his ever-calming voice.

I swear, his accent is what always made any difficult situation easier.

“It's just-,” I sighed while falling onto the step, Jolly immediately following me. “Every time I think Noah and I are getting somewhere, some bullshit comes up to continue to keep us apart.”

Jolly nodded. “I can understand that, I get it. But it doesn’t have to be complicated. It really doesn’t, Y/N.”

“Then why does this keep happening?” I blew out a shaky breath while looking up at him with tear-filled eyes.

I was so fucking tired of the universe trying to keep Noah and me apart. I was so fucking tired of trying to be happy for more than a mere moment before something came to crash around me.

Was I not worthy of a happy ending? After all the bullshit I’d gone through?

Jolly brushed away a stray tear, a solemn smile on his face. “Maybe the universe is-shit-I don’t know trying to humble you both first? Heal? Hell if I know, I’d kill to have that spark you two have. I don’t know shit about this, Y/N. But I do know Noah; he isn’t perfect. But he’s trying so hard to be. He also isn’t lying to you, he isn’t.”

Reluctantly, I nodded and rested my head against his shoulder. “Is it alright if I just sit here a minute with you?”

He patted my knee. “Take all the time you need, söt.”

“Huh?” I looked up at him.

With a chuckle, Jolly wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “It means sweet, in Swedish. Sorry, sometimes it slips out without-.”

“No!” I patted his knee now. “I like it.”

With a relaxed breath, I eased into Jolly’s comforting embrace, thankful that I had so many friends to confide in when things became tough.

MATT

So ‘distressed distraction mission fail’ was here. I chuckled to myself, my inner monologue taking over. I felt like it was closing in around me. In my mind, I was growing larger and larger, expanding with aggravation. If I say something too fast, to get myself under control, I’d explode and take the situation in my hands.

This wasn’t my fuckin fight, I knew that. But- once again, this girl proves to me she doesn’t belong here and surely, doesn’t understand the words no.

Stop.

Leave.

Noah ended this shit so why was she here? Dogs and fucking rabid raccoons understand basic shit better than Bailey.

I often tried to bite my tongue. I often tried to be kind when I didn’t need to be. It was important to be kind, however, not when you fuck with my family. Bailey didn’t get my message the last time. However, I knew tonight was going to be the last time she’d be around. I felt that shit in my gut.

Good fuckin riddance.

Noah was still in the kitchen and from the way Malcolm was laying into him about something, I knew he’d be held up there for a few minutes.

I walked up to Bailey as she was sitting on Noah’s couch, a glass of wine in her hand.

“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in.” I taunted while crossing my arms over my chest, staring down at her.

Bailey rolled her eyes while taking a very long sip of her wine. “Matt, seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. Any particular reason you’re here tonight, trying to, I don’t know, ruin another gathering?”

“I just wanted to talk to Noah,” she slurs while slowly sanding to her feet, swaying slightly. “I think we can figure things out.”

My face scrunched in disgust. “Why don’t you sit down, no need to make a bigger fool of yourself.”

“‘M not,” the red liquid swirled in her cup as she shook her head.

“I’m sorry but have you been blind this whole time?” I wondered.

Bailey scoffed, suddenly falling back onto the couch and spilling a few drops of wine onto the couch. “I’m not blind.”

Fuck, if Noah wasn’t pissed with this girl before, he definitely would be now for staining his couch.

I bent low on my knees to make direct eye contact with her. “You keep acting like it, Bailey. You should have just taken the voicemail for what it was. Noah ended it with you; it’s done. What was the point of even coming over here? Because this thing with him isn’t going to happen. You're water and Y/N is milk.”

“What does that mean?” Bailey hiccuped, resting her head against the back of the couch.

I peered over my shoulder to point toward Noah, who was watching Y/N directly as she walked back inside with Jolly. She didn’t bother to give Noah an ounce of attention as she was led by Jolly into the dining room. The look of hurt and yearning from Noah made my own stomach drop. His usual stoic face was void, it was evident that his emotions were coming to the surface. Noah loved Y/N with his entire essence but this woman sitting in front of me was going to ruin it.

The hurt I felt for my friend; no, my brother made the tone in my voice turn to ice as I glared back at Bailey.

“Y/N is the fucking moon that lights his entire dark sky. Come on, stop playing stupid,” I stood to my feet and ran a hand through my hair.

Leaving her to sulk on her own, I motioned for Malcolm to come out front with me so we could talk privately.

NOAH

Music blasted throughout my house, the party well underway. Chase arrived about thirty minutes ago, not a hint of surprise on his face but still wore a happy smile. Somehow he managed to find out about the party, which immediately brought a sad smile to Y/N’s face; one I wished I could brush away with my thumb.

“Ah, it’s alright sweets. I really appreciate the effort,” Chase kissed her forehead before laying a kiss on Malcolm’s lips. “Thank you, guys. I love you.”

I tried talking to Y/N one more time before the party started but with Malcolm’s ice-cold gaze, I knew it wasn’t the right time. It would have to wait until later.

Something else needed my attention.

Bailey stumbled into the living room, red solo cup barely hanging between her fingers, as she was in a fit of giggles. I internally was smoldered with resentment as I watched Bailey. Rage flowed through me like lava because she came here and did this. I tried, I fucking tried. I realized this was the consequence of my previous actions.

However, have I not atoned?

I apologized. I-I tried, I called Bailey and told her I couldn’t be what she wanted. I ended it.

I knew she knew, she told me that night in the car. I had eyes for someone else.

I couldn’t allow her to destroy what I was working towards. I tried to swallow my frustration. Angel wouldn’t even look at me- I felt like I could die right here. I was sitting on the couch with my arms resting along the back of it, eyes watching Y/N’s every move as she talked with Davis.

Until Bailey fell onto the couch next to me. “I-I thought I haad a driinkie for you.”

My jaw ticked as I ran a hand over it. “Bailey, I’m sorry, but you weren’t invited.”

“Wha-what does,” she hiccuped. “That mean?”

I moved towards the other end of the couch to give us more space. “Bailey, I left you a voicemail!”

“I haven’t checked it! I have like 20 messages,” she waved me off before drinking from her cup.

“Bailey-.”

A mutual friend of Orie’s came by with a tray of shot glasses, one that Bailey reached for.

“Oh! Shots!”

Quickly, I pushed away the tray from her and dismissed the friend, stating we were fine and didn’t need anything to drink.

“Noah!” Bailey whined while cupping my face. “Why’d youuu do that? I’m thirsty!”

I smacked her hand away as gently as I could. “You’re drunk, Bailey. You’ve had enough.”

She, of course, ignored me and was fast on her feet to stumble into the kitchen. “I’m gonna go get another!”

A look of great bitterness swept across my face when I approached Bailey again and attempted to get her to leave. “Bailey, let me call you an Uber. You need to go.”

“Noah!”

She tried to push me away but ended up crashing into the kitchen counter, knocking over the vast variety of alcohol. The loud noise caught the attention of everyone around; Y/N watching Bailey with a look of disdain, never once looking into my eyes. I curbed the way my heart fell to my stomach only because I couldn’t focus on the pain.

I needed to get Bailey out of here.

“I missed you,” she slurred while running a finger down my chest. “I miss the way you fucked me. Can we try again?”

I threw her arms off of me as she tried to wrap them around my neck. “No, Bailey, whatever this was is finished. You need to go.”

“We need to talk right now, mother fucker,” Chase spat as he gripped my eblow to drag me to a far corner of the living room, away from prying ears.

“Man, not now,” I ripped my arm from him. “I’m fucking busy trying to diffuse this situation.”

“Bailey is drunk, Noah! What the fuck!” Chase ran a hand over his buzzed head. “You’re going to do this? Now? We fucking talked about this! What did I tell you? Get it together or leave my sister alone.”

He roughly pushed my shoulder and I took a deep breath to keep myself calm. From the moment Bailey showed up tonight, I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown and there was nothing I could do to stop it; breathing be damned.

“STOP!” I suddenly snapped, earning a few stares from people around us.

Nick R. went to step forward as he leaned against the wall with Nadia but I was quick to wave him off. I refused to ruin their night. His girlfriend was in town for the first time in a long time so the last thing they needed was to deal with my drama.

“Fuck!” I spoke. “I did! I fucking broke it off, it’s over! Bailey just fucking showed up! And I’d hate for her to drive and die. I do not need that shit on my conscious.”

“Noah-,” Malcolm stepped up next to Chase.

“I swear to fucking Hades himself, if you tell me to break it off with Bailey, I will lose my shit,” I snapped, the vein in my neck twitching.

“I’m not,” Malcolm’s voice was even, steady, almost a low whisper because he knew I was seconds away from sheer catastrophe. “Y/N’s fucking hurt, Noah.”

“I’m-.” I couldn’t even finish my sentence before Chase snapped.

“I know you’re fucking sorry, alright! But please for the love of fucking Neptune, get rid of her!”

“Working on it, man,” I reminded him as I turned on my heels to head back into the kitchen but came to a sudden halt.

Bailey was dragging a guy towards Y/N, her loud shrill voice echoing over the music.

“Y/N! This was the friend I was talking to you about!”

Friend? What the fuck?

The look on Y/N’s face was one of embarrassment and awkwardness. Not many could read someone from across the room but I could. I knew exactly what Y/N was feeling without an utter from her sweet lips; her body always gave her away.

JESSE

Oh shit, oh shit.

If only I had known how tonight was going to go.

Truth be told, I really wanted everyone out of my fucking house. I wanted to lock Y/N and Noah in the garage, not letting them out until they talked this shit out. Although, depending on what happens next, I might have to.

I leaned against the kitchen sink as I watched with careful eyes as Bailey approached Y/N with some guy in tow.

“Y/N! This is the friend I was talking about! The one I wanted to introduce you to! Jared, this is Y/N.”

My gaze snapped over to Noah just in time to see him crush the red solo cup in his hand.

“Oh, hi. Hello,” Y/N shifted on her feet.

“Fuck,” Jared licked his lips. “You know you’re really beautiful. You’re a model ain’t you?”

Y/N cleared her throat. “Musician, actually.”

Something was off with this guy so without them noticing, I took a few steps closer toward Y/N, just in case she needed me to step in.

“Wow a musician, that’s right! Bailey mentioned something about that. I have heard your band before. Souls Hollow.” Jared snapped as if he found out the answer for a million dollars.

“Hollow Souls”.

The loud pop of Y/N’s water bottle made me jump slightly as she crushed it between her hands.

“Right! Well, you have the face and the body for modeling if that’s something you want to get into,” Jared ran a hand through his short hair.

“No, not my interest or my forte.”

Somehow through her drunken state, Bailey was able to feel the sudden tension and patted the guy's chest.

“Jared, why don’t you get us a couple of drinks? I need to have some girl talk with, Y/N.”

Girl talk?

“Girl talk?” Y/N chuckled low.

Once it was the two of them, or so Bailey thought, I leaned forward on the kitchen island to listen better.

“You know,” Bailey threw her hair over her shoulder. “It might be good for you to blow off some aggression. He could be a good fuck.”

“Thank you for your interest in my well-being.” Y/N scoffed, ready to end this conversation, and went to walk past her.

“I’m just saying. I’d love to be fucked by Noah again, but he hasn’t been interested,” Bailey shrugged while leaning against the counter for support.

Oh. Fuck.

Y/N turned swiftly on her heels with a look of pure fury behind those eyes, the ones that drew Noah in that first meeting; something he told me many times before. I could see the hurt behind that fury though. It was clear that Bailey’s words dragged the knife deeper into her heart. But just as quickly as the hurt surfaced, Y/N was quick to close herself off by crossing her arms over her chest with wide eyes, internally going into herself.

The shit I just heard. Bailey did that on purpose, or she was so far gone on liquor she didn’t realize what she said.

No, it was both. Bailey came here to hurt Noah, that was obvious.

Daring a glance over to Y/N, I felt my stomach drop at what I saw. While it wasn’t easy for me to read her face all the time, that look was something I’d seen on Noah’s face one too many times.

She was passed beyond the point of disassociation.

Silence.

Y/N was silent. The calm before the storm.

“Shit, Noah.” I quietly said under my breath as I nearly sped to him.

He was sitting on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on his knees as they bounced wildly. Even with me approaching him with a fury, Noah’s eyes never left the two women behind me.

“Noah!” I waved my hand in front of his face. “Noah!”

“Not now man,” he waved me off, still not looking up at me.

Following his gaze, my shoulders slumped when I noticed that Jared had returned to Y/N and was trying to hand her a drink; one that she kept refusing.

Noah’s fists were balled tightly underneath his chin, his chest unmoving as if his breath was caught in his throat.

“Yes, now! Fuck, Noah. I need to tell you something.”

Before I could sit down, Bailey barreled her way past me onto the couch to plop down next to Noah, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Oh, don’t they look perfect together? I’d say I’m a great fucking matchmaker. Heaven knows she needs to get laid. She’s been so uptight since I’ve met her.”

Mother fucker.

All this time and Bailey still couldn’t read the fucking room.

NOAH

I shifted my body away from Bailey, her head falling away from my shoulder, as I glared at her.

“What did you just say?” I was eerily calm even though my heart was in my ears.

Bailey did her best to fix her hair, trying to make herself presentable. “Y/N looks so good with Jared! I’m so glad I set them up. It seemed like she’d been so lonely since the break up with Trey.”

Jesse sat next to me. “Noah-.”

Ignoring him, I kept my hard gaze on the mess of Bailey. “Why do you insist on bringing that asshole up in every conversation?”

“Why does her love life bother you so much, No-O-ah.” She hiccuped then let out a low belch, the smell rancid.

It disgusted me.

I was beginning to see slight parallels with this. Trey, Bailey, Trey Bailey. Drowning their demons. Once again confirming I will not be like this. I won’t become them. My demons won’t swim.

“Why can’t you mind your own fucking business? You don’t know shit about her or any of us. You think you do because of things you read on a blog?”

Fuck, Bailey was getting inside my skin and I wanted to scratch it away until it bled. I chewed roughly on the inside of my cheek, doing whatever I could to keep my anger under control. I couldn’t make a scene in front of everyone because of Bailey.

She took a large gulp of her wine and lazily shrugged. “Trey was a big part of Y/N’s life; I can understand that.”

Jesse reached past me to grab the glass of wine from her since she almost dropped it because of her weak grip. The sound of glass clanking on the table in front of me was a white noise in my ears.

“Oh, Jo-O-lly,” Bailey whined with a hiccup. “You’re no fun.”

“Jesse,” he corrected.

She ignored him with a wave of a hand towards Y/N and this friend. “Look at them. Y/N’s so into him.”

My gaze snapped over to Y/N expecting to see her all over this guy but breathed a little easier to see that there was a decent amount of space between them and her arms were crossed over her chest.

She was closing herself off from the conversation but ever the sweetheart, Y/N couldn’t find the way to end it.

“Hopefully, they’ll fuck. I mentioned to Y/N that we did as girl talk, so maybe she finally will too!”

My eyes doubled in size as my head whipped back to her, heart now leaping out of my fucking throat. All the noise around me fell away, the only thing I could hear was two words.

You’re fucked.

“You fucking told her we had sex?” I spat through clenched teeth.

“It was girl talk, Noah. You’re freaking out about nothing,” Bailey rolled her eyes.

Terror washed over me because there was absolutely no fucking way she told Y/N.

“She did. I was right there,” Jesse informed, almost as if he could read my mind.

The fine hairs at the back of my neck rose as the anger now ran through me in waves.

Bailey told her. She fucking told her.

Fuck!

My hands raked through my hair, ripping it from the low bun, and I vibrated with rage.

I should have told Y/N right after it happened. I shouldn’t have let it drag on this long. It would have hurt coming from me, yes, but now that Bailey was the one to tell her, I knew it was eating away inside of Y/N.

Idiot.

Asshole.

Fucking bitch.

My heart continued to pound rapidly in my ears. I wanted to scream; the sudden shock made my muscles tense. Innate fear was instinctive and hard-wired into my brain.

This kept fucking happening. Every time I thought Y/N and I were getting somewhere, something fucking came crashing into it. How did we go from almost kissing upstairs in my bedroom to now? She ignored me as another man was practically drooling at the sight of her.

Mine. She’s mine. She’s always been mine.

This feeling that burned low in my gut involved a fight-or-flight response triggered by a perceived threat; Bailey.

I hated myself more than I had in a long time.

A sudden thought crossed my mind which made me blow out a shaky breath. Was I the threat?

No. I broke it off.

Fuck this.

“Oh,” Bailey’s voice was sad. “I hope Jared won't mind Y/N’s scar, though. I never had the chance to warn him.”

“Excuse me?” I fumed, nostrils flaring.

How she continued to misread the room appalled me.

“Well, I noticed her scar during the pool day. It’s a nasty one. I can't believe she deals with that endo bullshit,” Bailey sympathized.

“Endometriosis,” I corrected but then shook my head with the sudden realization. “How do you know about that?”

“Why does it matter, Noah?” She shifted uncomfortably.

The only people who knew about Y/N’s scar beside herself were Malcolm, Chase, and me. It was a very sore subject for her, something she didn’t want brought up. It was from a procedure she had years ago, one to remove a thin layer of tissue that lined her uterus to help with her heavy bleeding.

I never noticed the scar however during our night together. My mind was elsewhere. I never paid attention to that, it could have been a stretch mark for all I knew. I was a little too occupied tasting her to care. So enamored in her, so thankful just to have every inch of her at all that night that I didn’t see it as an imperfection on her.

And I never would.

“It fucking does matter, Bailey!” I roared.

Jesse’s hand rested on my shoulder, his soft touch easing the rage slightly. However, out of the corner of my eye, something else caught the attention of my rage.

Bile rose in my throat as I watched Jared’s slimy fingers graze down Y/N’s bare arm towards the silver chain on her wrist; the bracelet I bought her. He twirled it between his fingers before flicking it away with a look of distaste. Y/N yanked her arm away from him, holding her wrist close to her chest.

My nostrils flared as my shoulders went rigid, my body going taught. Something cold and wet dripped onto my lips and the copper taste was bitter on my tongue. I could feel my increasing heart rate, the blood rushing in and out through my ears. I swallowed thickly with my dry mouth, producing no saliva.

My clenched fists were aching, I was sure to leave half-crescent marks on my palms. My jaw was tight as if it was wired shut and my gums must have been bleeding. I could taste it in my mouth as one simple thought continued to repeat in my mind.

Destroy. He’s touching what’s yours.

I could do it, it’d be so easy.

This piece of shit dared to look at something I gave Y/N with distaste and it made me bare my teeth.

“Fuck, Noah. Are you alright?” Jesse’s concern brought me back from seeing red. “Your nose is bleeding.”

I wiped my palm over my nose. “Is it?”

Crimson smeared all over my hand.

Fuck.

With every step back Y/N took, this guy followed in an attempt to close the distance between them. A muscle in her jaw ticked as her brows furrowed, eyes darting around the room to look for someone.

Chase and Malcolm were in the front yard with others playing one of the yard games Steven brought. Everyone else was scattered throughout the house which meant I was closest to her.

Perhaps this fear of loss is only proof of my love for Y/N, one that she will always depend on. The curse is the blessing. Blessed with a curse. Love is tough, but I’m tough enough. I needed to get to Y/N and get to her now.

Bolting to my feet, I moved like lighting and did not listen to Jesse’s protests as I reached Y/N in a few wide strides.

Even though she was angry at me, Y/N’s eyes lit up with relief as she saw me only for a moment.

“Everything alright?” I asked while standing shoulder-to-shoulder with her.

Jared motioned towards Y/N. “I’m trying to get your beautiful friend from Sollows to go out with me.”

I ground my teeth while taking a step towards him. “It’s Hollow Souls. Hollow. Souls. You don’t even fucking know her band's name. Get the hell out of here.”

“Noah!” Y/N jeered from behind me.

“All I’m asking for is one date, dude. She’s hard to break down to agree,” Jared shook his head.

I stood toe to toe with this asshole, my words stone cold and stern so he understood completely. “She isn't available!”

“Really?” He scoffed while stuffing his hands in his pockets. “That’s not what your girlfriend told me. Why do you care so much about who Y/N talks to?”

“Bailey isn’t my girlfriend; not anymore. I broke up with her days ago, it’s not my fucking problem that she can't understand it,” I reiterated for what seemed like the tenth time today.

“Why is she here then?” Y/N muttered behind me.

Ignoring her, I continued to stand tall in between her and Jared.

“So again, Y/N isn’t available,” I repeated.

“Really?” Jared chuckled.

“Yeah, dude. Really.”

One step closer to him.

He outstretched his arms. “I don’t see anyone around to claim her.”

I despised the way he was talking about Y/N; someone that was mine.

“She isn’t a fucking object,” I hissed.

I studied him with unforgiving judgment, an icy stare bored into him, making it hard not to back away. I gripped the glass I had in my hand. My first thought was to throw it to the floor and smash it, but I knew if I did that, I wouldn’t stop until every glass in the cupboard was in shards and Jared’s face was pushed into it.

Violence never solved anything. I had to remind myself that this is not what I am. Not what Y/N would want. I had to keep my composure at best. I had to.

I also would never want to incite fear in Y/N. Never. I knew she wasn’t into him, but I couldn’t help but notice sleazy Jared letting his eyes roam her entire body, as much as she tried to hide herself away. His eyes went to her exposed legs, the colorful and detailed drawings on her right one.

I didn’t like that.

Y/N’s smooth skin. Her perky, round, and full chest was probably what caught Jared’s attention in the first place. At this moment, he became just another enemy. But nobody, not even him, was going to try and take Y/N away from me. Not when she was mine. I wanted her all for myself.

I inhaled and exhaled so harshly; like a fucking bull ready to charge

“I’m not saying she is an object. All I’m saying is-.”

“Yeah, I know what you’re fucking saying,” I barked “And I’m telling you Y/N isn’t available. She’s with me.”

Jared snickered. “If that’s the case then why did she spend the last ten minutes talking to me.”

“I’m right fucking here!” Y/N screamed while pushing past me to now step between us. “Stop acting like I’m not!”

Jared went to reach for her which prompted me to wrap an arm around her shoulder, ready to lead her away.

“We need to talk; let’s go upstairs,” I begged with wide eyes.

She hastily removed my arm from her. “No, fuck you! I have nothing to say to you. This conversation is over.”

“The hell it is,” I snapped while running my hands through my hair. “This isn’t over until we talk into the light. Please, angel. Let's go upstairs.”

Y/N pushed my chest. “Oh, you want to talk now? You’re bored with Bailey so yet again, I’m your second option?”

Jared shifted on his feet. “Am I missing something here?”

I glared at him over my shoulder. “Yeah, none of this concerns you. Fuck off.”

“Noah!” Y/N chastised. “STOP IT!”

My head snapped back to her. “No, don’t Noah me. We need to talk! Without this asshole.”

“Fuck you, man!”

Jared went to reach for me but I was a hair faster than him, pushing him back into the kitchen island. By now, our little argument caught the attention of almost everyone in the house, and the music ceased, an eerie silence falling around us.

“Don’t you ever put your fucking hands on me or Y/N.” I seethed, my chest rising and falling with each deep breath.

So many different gazes burned into me but I didn’t give a shit about the scene. The only thing I cared about was Y/N.

“Angel, please can we-,” I turned back around just in time to see her bolt up the stairs, away from everyone.

“Shit,” I muttered while bounding up the stairs two at a time to catch her.

As I reached the landing upstairs, I caught her frame slipping into the bathroom but before I could reach her, the door slammed in my face.

“Y/N,” my voice was soft as my knuckles tapped against the door.

“Leave me alone!” She choked on a sob, it echoing through the wood

My forehead rested against the wall next to the bathroom, the rage and anger that consumed me minutes prior suddenly faded into the void, my heart only feeling one emotion; despair. I needed to feel Y/N in my embrace. I needed to console her and assure her that everything would be okay.

We will be okay.

“Noah, what the fuck was that man?” Davis demanded.

Turning my body around, I leaned against the wall with pure exhaustion and ran my hands over my face; images of Jared’s hands all over Y/N were clear in the darkness.

“He was touching her,” I chewed out. “His hands were-fuck!”

I pushed myself off the wall and began pacing up and down the hall, right in front of my bedroom.

Davis watched with his hands on his hips. “You need to pull it together. What the fuck was that downstairs?! Why hasn’t Bailey left yet? I thought you ordered her an Uber?”

“I’ve been trying!” I snapped while coming to a halt.

But when I saw the look on his face, I sighed while pinching my nose. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to snap at you but I’m just so tired of being accused tonight of shit that’s out of my control.

“It’s alright, man,” Davis reassured me.

“Fuck, where’s Chase? Or Malcolm? Maybe they can talk Y/N out of the bathroom.” I suggested.

“Chase is pissed. Malcolm had to hold him back to keep him from coming up here to kick your ass.”

With my hands on the ledge, I peered over it to see that Davis was telling the truth. Malcolm had Chase pinned against the front door, arms on each side of him in a way to lock him in a makeshift cage. It helped that Malcolm was a bit bigger than Chase so he couldn’t push past him, which I was thankful for because his usual bright eyes were dark with hatred. I couldn’t hear what they were talking about up here but I knew with the way Chase pointed up at me and the vein in his forehead throbbing that it wasn’t good. Malcolm rested a hand on Chase’s cheek, the latter immediately relaxing in the former’s touch.

“I never meant for this to happen,” I blew out a shaky breath, doing my best to keep my tears at bay.

It wasn’t fucking fair. I did everything right so why was it coming back to bite me in the ass?

“I know,” Davis stepped up beside me to lay a hand on my shoulder. “I fucking know this is killing you right now. But you have to move past this. Y/N doesn’t deserve this side of you. And frankly, neither do you.”

“I know I said I can wait for years if I have to, Davis. But fuck, I want us right now! I can’t see anything else but Y/N. I want her with me! I want all of her forever. It’s her and me I-.”

A sob crawled its way out of my throat. "I want all of her. Forever.”

“It’s okay, Noah,” he rubbed my back in smoothing circles. “It may not seem like it right now but I promise you, it will be okay.”

The soft click of the bathroom sounded loud in the hallway upstairs but when I turned towards it with a hopeful smile, it faltered when Y/N whipped past us, her hair flowing behind her in waves.

“Angel.”

I reached for her, only for Y/N to rip farther away from me, and retreat downstairs.

READER

Tears fell from my eyes as I hid behind my hair, heels reaching the bottom of the stairs. While my heart beat rapidly in my chest, my mind screamed one thing in my mind over and over again.

You need to leave. Get out. Get out.

I looked around with frantic eyes for Chase and Malcolm, knowing that I wasn’t in the best state of mind to drive. By now, the vast group of people that came for the party had dispersed only leaving our small group of friends. Instead, my gaze locked with Nick R’s and I nearly sobbed at the sight of him. I needed some sort of comfort from someone and it didn’t matter who it was; as long as it wasn’t Noah.

Before I could make my way over towards Nick R., a vice grip wrapped around my elbow to spin me around.

“You couldn’t stay away, could you?!” Bailey’s nails dug into my skin.

I hissed. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Noah could have moved on with me! I could have made him so happy!” Her words slurred together, the heavy stench of alcohol on her breath. “But no, every time I was with him, there you were! You couldn’t fucking leave him alone!”

The tears tasted bitter on my tongue. “Excuse me?”

Bailey chuckled dryly, barely able to keep herself up on two feet. “You’re his fucking ghost. You’re here all the time. It’s a good thing I showed up tonight. I followed my gut. But I don’t know what hurts worse; you and Noah sneaking around behind my back or-.”

“We-.”

She stuck up a finger to hush me. “Behind my back or you both lying about your feelings for each other to my face. You’ve been in love this whole fucking time and I was only a pawn in this story.”

I slowly shook my head, suddenly feeling guilty. It was true, even though we didn’t want to admit it, but she was a pawn. An innocent person caught in the crossfire of a tangled mess of soulmates.

“Bailey.”

“No!” She screamed with her own tears. “What also hurts is that I can’t blame you! I can’t! But I truly don’t know how you’re going to be able to give him anything he needs.”

Pure venom filled her eyes; a snake ready to snap at its prey. “I-I don’t-I know everything and I can’t help but feel sorry for you. I know how hard it will be for you to have a child. How do you think Noah feels about that? You’re taking away his chance of having a family, any chance of normalcy!”

I nearly stumbled back, being smacked in the face with her words, and I blinked rapidly at her. “Wh-How do you know?”

Bailey ignored me by throwing up her hands. “So take him! Noah is all yours. You two fucking deserve each other.”

My eyes now sliced into her. “How the fuck do you know about that, Bailey?”

“He’ll never love me like he loves you, and it’s selfish of you to keep throwing him away.” She yet again avoided my question. “He wouldn’t touch me, never. Especially when you were around. Only that one time but all he thought about was you.”

“I’m not! You don’t know a fucking thing! Noah doesn’t love me! He doesn’t.” I bellowed as loud footsteps came running down the steps.

Noah’s frantic face pleaded for me to stay, to listen, but I refused; I was done with this entire day and wanted to leave.

“I’m leaving,” I said, turning on my heels.

“Angel, please wait!” Noah reached for me, yet again.

“Hang on,” Bailey stepped in front of him, blocking his path to me. “Y/N is Angel?”

I didn’t bother hearing the excuse Noah came up with. My only path was the front door where Nick R. stood, waiting for me with it wide open.

Somewhere an hour outside of Cheston, South Carolina in a nursing home, a resident named Duke was so enamored with the elderly woman that sat beside him. He read to her every day about a story of love, loss, and the power to fight for love.

“Did they love each other?” The woman asks, brushing away the graying strands of her hair.

Duke closed the book and smiled. “They didn’t agree on much. In fact, they didn’t agree on anything. They fought all the time and challenged each other every day. But despite their differences, they had one important thing in common. They were crazy about each other.”

The older lady rested deeper into her chair, a faint smile on her lips.“I like these kinds of stories,”

“Yeah? Me too.” Duke smiled at her and set the book on the table in front of them. “Somewhere out there, I’m sure this exists. It did for me.”

THIRD PERSON POV

“Leave me alone!” Y/N screamed over her shoulder to Noah who was following on her heels.

He let her walk away so many previous times and he was done letting the cycle continue.

“You’re not leaving!” Noah ordered, his voice echoing into the night air.

Chase and Malcolm, who were sitting on the front porch, watched the entire scene unfold in front of them. Chase wanted to intervene, still reeling from what happened before the party ended but Malcolm held him in place with a hand on his knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“They need to figure this out on their own, Chase. We can’t keep helping them.”

Davis and Matt also wanted to intervene as they watched through the large window in the living room. They wanted to help, but even they shook their heads.

“This is it. The dam broke and it’s about fucking time,” Matt said while leaning against the wall next to the window.

“Let them hash it out. This is going to be cathartic for both of them.” Davis said while peaking through the curtains.

Steven almost popped out of nowhere with a sigh. “Here we go.”

Suddenly, the dark sky above cracked with a bright light, rain immediately falling from the clouds and soaking Noah and Y/N as they continued their stare off in his driveway.

“Have you been paying attention to anything happening?!” Y/N accused, wet strands of hair clinging to her face.

“No, I guess not!” Noah retorted back. “I must have misread every fucking signal!”

“Guess you did!” Y/N scoffed while turning back on her heels, the loud clicking being muted by the sounds of the onslaught of rain and thunder.

When she opened the door to her car, Noah was quick to slam it shut. “You’re bored! You know it and we wouldn’t keep doing this if something wasn’t missing! But you don’t fucking get it!”

“Get what?” Y/N questioned while trying to open the door again.

Noah slammed it shut again, not allowing her to leave. “WHY?! Why am I not worthy?”

As he screamed those words a few more times, his despair was heard by everyone inside the house who watched with broken eyes, the yellow hue of the street lamp casting him in his own angelic aura.

Y/N’s lips mimicked a fish out of the water, despite being drowned under the rain

“This whole fucking thing of hot and cold with you! You’re being a pain in the ass!” Noah rested his arm on the top of her car, bright eyes burning into hers.

Her eyes bulged out of her head and she gave a hard shove to his chest. “Excuse me? You arrogant son of a bitch, you tell me all this shit! I sit there and tolerate this distraction of yours, who sits there and tells me little theories and fucking intrusive bull shit. She pries into parts of my life; parts she shouldn’t know!”

Noah’s face softened, immediately knowing what Y/N was referring to. “I didn’t tell her, Y/N. I swear to Hades, I didn’t tell Bailey about your endometriosis.”

“Then how does she know? It’s not public knowledge!”

He tried to reach for her but Y/N pushed him away with yet another hard shove. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

Chase went to bolt outside into the onslaught of the storm to protect his sister but Malcolm was quick to bring him back inside. Unfortunately, this wasn’t their fight anymore. It was up to Noah and Y/N.

“Angel, please,” Noah begged with a trembling lip. “Come back inside so we can talk about this.”

Y/N ripped her hands through her hair. “There’s nothing to talk about, Noah! Don’t you get it?! We keep running in circles with no positive outcome. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t.”

They both were drenched, limbs shivering from the cold wind and rain, but neither of them made the first move to falter; to end this fight.

“Stop acting like I don’t care about you; about us!” Noah snapped.

“I never said you didn’t! If anything I felt the same way you fucking idiot! I-I’m-.”

The words died from her lips, unable to finish her sentence due to the fear of Noah not feeling the same.

“You what?” He urged while taking a step towards her.

Y/N wildly shook her head as her make up ran down her face, staining her cheeks and neck in mascara.

“I-I can’t.” Y/N pressed her palm into her forehead.

“Yes, you can,” Noah licked his lips in anticipation. “Fuck, Y/N! YOU WHAT?!”

“I’m in love with you! Okay?! I fucking love you.” Y/N turned on her heels to walk down the driveway but stopped, quickly turning to Noah.

Everyone inside the house gasped, all looking at each other.

“Did she?” Folio wondered.

Malcolm had a hint of a smile on his lips. “Yeah, she did.”

“You always just pretend that everything is fine when it’s not!” She pointed a firm finger at him. “Then you stand there and have the right to say I’m the pain in the ass? Fuck you, Noah! I’m so tired of you pretending that you don’t have feelings for me.”

Noah’s eyes widened with furrowed brows and his jaw slacked. “You-You-’re-wait!”

He shook his head in disbelief but then confusion etched over the features of his face. “I’m pretending? I’ve been trying to tell you for months! But I don’t know how to do any of this, okay? These feelings are new for me and I don’t know how to deal with them!”

“This isn’t going to work,” Y/N sobbed while holding her arms close to her chest, whether it was due to the cold or to protect herself from the feelings, no one but her was sure.

Noah gapped at her. “We haven’t even started anything! And I’m fucking sorry about everything and Bailey! I’m so fucking sorry! I should have never even walked into the record shop that day. My head was a mess after seeing your instagram post and I lost it.”

“Wait,” Y/N shook her head. “What Instagram post?”

Noah ran a hand on the back of his neck. “The one you posted in Japan. I-I thought you found someone there that could get you actual ramen.”

Y/N couldn’t help but internally snicker at that but the anger and hurt she felt outweighed that glimmer of humor.

“So you dated someone because you misunderstood a fucking Instagram post?!” She pushed Noah once again.

However this time, he grasped her hands so she couldn’t pull away. He held them against the beating pulse underneath his soaked shirt.

They were exactly alike. In every aspect. Mannerisms, interests, and their souls were the same. Which is why they always seemed to find their way back to one another, no matter the outcome.

“Just fucking stay with me, Y/N! Stay till the morning and we can figure this shit out. Please,” Noah begged with trembling lips.

“Stay with you?” Y/N pushed away then pointed between them. “Look at us, Noah! All we’ve been doing is bickering and fighting!”

“Well that’s what we do. We fight. You tell me when I am being an arrogant son of a bitch and I tell you when you’re being a pain in the ass. Which you are, 99 percent of the time. I’m not afraid to hurt your feelings. You have like a 2 second rebound rate, then you’re back doing the next pain-in-the-ass thing!”

By now, the rain was a terrental down pur, branches of the trees swaying widely in the wind as the sky cracked loudly with lightning and thunder; it shook both Y/N and Noah to their bones.

“So what?” Y/N scoffed. “Why does it matter to you?”

“Because I fucking love you, angel!” Noah blurted out.

He planned on telling her how he really felt from the moment the feelings clawed their way to the surface but something always managed to get in the way of it. But here, now, outside his house with all of their friends watching, he admitted it to her.

And he’d spend the rest of his days shouting from the rooftops his love for his angel.

“This shit is hard for me. I’m being vulnerable, but fuck, man” Noah pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling and exhaling his breaths; like Dr. Poulos had told him to do so.

Y/N gazed up at him with a fixed gaze unable to move. “What?”

The onlookers had their ears peeled to their spots, doors and open cracks of the windows.

“Oh thank the gods.” Michael breathed out

“Fuck!” A low clap from Jesse.

Noah stood no less than a few inches apart from Y/N and his arms fell to his sides.

“I love you! I’ve loved you since I heard your fucking voice for the first time through my Ipod that night on Nick’s couch. The first day of the tour when I got off that bus.”

Y/N’s bottom lip quivered. “You love me too?”

“Yes, angel. I want all of you, you and me! Will you do something for me, please? Just picture your life for me? Five, ten years from now. What does it look like? If it’s not with me then, go. Go!”

Noah smacked the hood of Y/N’s car. “I lost you once. Shit, twice. I think I can do it again. If I thought that’s what you really wanted. But don’t you take the easy way out.”

Chase, yet again bolted up from his spot from in front of the window, ready to run outside to protect his sister but now it was Nick R. who stopped him.

“Move,” Chase spat through gritted teeth.

Nick R. shook his head with a stern face. “We can’t intervene anymore. This has to be between them and them alone.”

“He’s getting violent! Noah just punched her car!” Chase yelled, not bothering the sleeping drunk on the couch behind him.

Nick R. stood his ground. “We all know that Noah would never put his hands on Y/N.”

Reluctantly, Chase nodded with a long sigh. “I know, I know. He might be your brother but she’s my sister. I’m just tired of seeing the same scene unfold between them.”

Malcolm gently reached for Chase’s hand and brought him back to the far corner they were seated in.

A loud crack of thunder made Y/N jump closer towards Noah, who instinctively reached for her but held back, not wanting to push her farther than she could handle.

“What easy way, Noah? This isn’t easy!” Y/N sighed. “None of this is easy!”

“No it is, actually.” Noah nodded. “Don’t think about anyone or anything else. What do you want from me? What do you want, angel?”

She rapidly shook her head, choking on a sob. “It’s not that simple.”

“What. Do. You. Want?” Noah enunciated every word with a pound fist to his chest.

When Y/N remained silent, Noah grasped her face to bring her into his warm embrace, even with the rain. “God damn it! What do you want?”

Her eyes darted between Noah’s and her bottom lip caught between her teeth. He watched as she swallowed thickly, anxiously awaiting her answer.

“I think-,” Y/N stumbled over her words. “I need to clear my head right now.”

Noah’s shoulders drop, disappointment clear on his face. “Are we doing that? Are we back there? What about everything we feel? What about everything that happened hours ago and beyond that. It happened, you know. They’re going to keep fucking happening. We belong together, Y/N.”

The grip on her cheeks tightened, his thumb brushing away the tears or rain, he couldn’t tell, from her cheeks only smearing her make up even more.

“No! I don’t want to go back there. Noah,” she shook her head the best she could in his tight grasp. “I-I need to grasp all of this! But there’s one thing I know for sure; it’s always been you, Noah.”

The crushing weight around his heart lifted at hearing her words. Noah’s thumb brushed along her cheek bone.

“I can stay away if you want me to, but I don’t want to. I know you don’t want me to,” he whispered.

Y/N whimpered while holding onto his wrists with a tight grip. “I love you, Noah. It was never really over for me.”

“It wasn't over and it still isn’t over,” Noah declared while crashing his lips to hers, locking her into place against her car with his hips.

Moving fast, sensual, soft and moist and hot and breathy, not trying to win a battle but seeking union and closeness and the sharing of one breath. One sensation. One timeless and passionate moment. Their hearts were electric as the familiar scars faded with their lips upon each other.

The heat rose in Y/N cheeks as her tongue touched Noah’s, quick and electric and delicious, then firmer, more determined. More curious about the heat that lay within, seeking to chase down that elusive liquid lightning that reached through both of them.

His hands were so soft despite the callous’ on his fingertips. Holding her face so delicately but with pressure.

The others in the house felt as if they should look away, however, given the rollercoaster they were on, they earned a peek at what their inner hearts also yearn for.

Noah’s hips pressed deeper into Y/N and he swallowed her moan, drinking in every part of her that he craved all this time. Her hands tangled through the strands of his hair, secretly reveling at the length. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that Noah could pull off any haircut but deep down, she was thankful that the moment she met him, his hair cascaded to his back in glorious dark waves.

She pulled on the lapels of his leather jacket to bring him closer, her teeth grazing over his bottom lip.

“Angel,” he moaned into her mouth.

“Mochi,” she breathed when his cock pressed against her heated core.

The storm suddenly ceased as soon as their lips met, thunder and lightning no longer.

There was a commotion coming from inside the house, one that went unnoticed by the two forms molding together; their souls connecting in a way that they so desperately needed.

“Noah!”

He pulled away from Y/N, hands still on her face and lips parted, drops of the rain falling into his mouth. One more quick kiss upon those bruised lips, he looked up towards Jesse.

“You have to deal with Bailey.” He said with a stern face. “Now.”

Cursing under his breath, Noah looked back to Y/N. “Don’t leave, alright? Give me a few minutes to deal with her. But I promise, we’re going to finish this.”

Y/N sniffled while wiping away the rain and make up from her face, giving him a slow nod.

With one final peck, savoring the sweet taste on her lips, Noah bounded up the yard with Jesse in tow. However, Nick R. met him half way.

“I know,” Noah held up his hand. “I’m dealing with it now.”

“Good,” Nick R. nodded. “Because Bailey locked herself in the bathroom and won’t leave until you talk to her.

However, unbeknownst to Jesse and Noah who slipped back inside, Bailey managed to exit through the back door unseen. She had her gaze on one person, making a beeline towards her.

“Like I said, you can’t stay away from him!” Bailey screamed.

Y/N was touching her lips softly, as she remembered the kiss, but looked towards Bailey as she stormed into her. Nick R. was ready to head back inside with the rest of them but as soon as he saw Bailey push Y/N into her car, he quickly changed his path. He couldn’t leave the two of them alone, not when Bailey was drunk and actions were unknown.

NICK R

I hung back off to the side but not too far as I watched Bailey and Y/N finally have words with each other.

“You ruined everything!” Y/N brushed Bailey off of her, standing her ground. “This party was for Chase but you couldn’t handle your fucking booze as usual and had to run your mouth!”

“All you had to do was stay away! Why couldn’t you let Noah be happy?” Bailey accused.

Oh, please. The only time the last time I’d seen Noah happy was when he was with Y/N.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Y/N scoffed with a dry chuckle. “You were the one that was brought into something you couldn’t understand.”

Something flashed in Bailey’s eyes which made me stand taller in attention. I’ve read the signs. I’ve heard them before. That’s what Bailey didn’t understand. This wasn’t a fling, or a feeling of empty love lost. This was something created by a force no one was sure existed. This wasn’t anyone’s intention. They can’t be apart for too long, the anguish will swallow them whole.

When passion generates within the relationship flows into other areas of life. Bailey disrespected my friend. My best friend’s other half. That just wouldn’t do.

She could yell, scream, and curse the ground Y/N walked on. It wouldn’t change anything. It will never change the course this is.

It’s always Noah and Y/N.

“You want to talk about things you don’t understand? You’re delusional if you think your band can hack it without Trey. He was probably in his right mind to leave and do his own thing.”

Fuck.

I gazed over towards Y/N and my stomach fell at the broken expression on her face.

Bailey continued her onslaught, not caring how deep her words were cutting. Noah told me months ago how fucked up Trey was and how long it took Y/N to over come how far he dug himself into her mind.

“You guys want to be innovative! And be the next big thing but guess what, you’re just going to fall on your face. I got news for you, next time I see your record? Clearance it goes.”

Y/N took a step forward which in turn made me reach and arm out to keep the space. Her eyes flashed to mine but with a curt nod from me, I allowed her to continue what she was going to say.

“You don’t know shit about my life or my music,” she hissed with venom. “What, because you read some blogs online and work in a music shop you think you know what’s best?”

Bailey tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I don’t need to know the little details. I know just enough to know you’re never going to make it and you’re gonna ruin Noah’s life.”

“News flash Bailey, I’ve already fucking made it. With or without Trey, Hollow Souls is where it’s at because of me.”

Y/N stabbed a finger into her own chest and I couldn’t help the proud smile that played on my lips.

“And it will continue to thrive because of me. And Malcolm. And chase. Not some girl's opinion who thinks she knows everything because she’s been in our inner circle for all of two months.”

Bailey opened her mouth to retort but Y/N pushed past my arm so she could get right into her face.

“I would rather chew concrete than ruin Noah’s life. I love him, I’ve loved him for a long fucking time and fuck you for thinking I’m going to allow you or anyone to intervene. Never again.”

With a hand on Y/N’s lower back, I motioned towards the house. “Bailey, I think you’re done here.

All the fight that Bailey had left in her seemed to falter and reluctantly, she turned to retreat back into the house. To do what, it didn’t matter to me. I needed to make sure Y/N was alright.

“Hey,” I finally forced her to look at me. “Are you alright?”

“Uh,” she let out a shaky breath while wrapping her arms around herself, shivering. “No. I’m not. It’s been a shit night.”

“Do you want me to see if Nadine has some clothes for you? Get you out of those wet clothes?” I offered.

Y/N shook her head. “No, it’s alright. I think I’m going to leave.”

My stomach dropped for Noah, knowing that he wished for her to stay. But I wouldn’t force Y/N to stay. But what I could do was give her some sense of reassurance.

“You want to know something cheesy? Something- a little too cliche?” I asked.

“What’s that?” Y/N sniffled with a slight chuckle

I leaned against the car next to her, both of us staring up at the sudden clear sky; stars sparkling upon us.

“The reason why it hurts so much is because your souls are connected.”

“Nicholas-.” Y/N started.

I turned towards her now. “No. No, I’ve been studying up on things like this, purely out of fun; Well, interest? Maybe genuine boredom but that detail doesn't matter. I’ve watched you both for a while now and it’s clear the two of you were always meant to find one another. I thought this kind of shit only existed in books. Turns out, I’ve watched it happen to my best friend. Noah found you. You’re his other half.”

She sobbed quietly. “And he’s mine.”

“Yeah,” I nodded with a smile. “He fucking smiles with you, you know. He laughs with you. You mean everything to him. I’ve known this kid since he was 12-.”

“Did Noah put you up to this?” Y/N questioned.

I shook my head. “No he didn’t tell me to talk to you but as his brother I needed to.”

“I just need-I need a space from this right now, just to get my head together.” Y/N said after a few beats of silence.

I had some reservations about that, ones that I made clear as I opened her car door for her, letting her drop in with a huff of a breath.

“It didn’t work out so well the last time you two had space. So please don’t wait too long, Y/N. One friend to another, I’m begging you, please, don’t break him. You both love each other. Noah can’t stay away from you and you can’t either.”

“I know, Nick, I know. I love him, I- just-,” she rested against her head rest.

I lent in her car to start it, quickly turning on the heat, before leaning over the open door once again.

“Work on your record. Get all this angst out. But don’t make him wait forever,” I said.

“It won’t be, I promise,” Y/N smiled up at me. It was weak and faint but it was there. “Can you tell him I had to go but we’ll talk soon.”

I buckled her seatbelt, making sure she was safe. “I will. I’ll let Malcolm and Chase know you left too.”

“Thank you, Nicholas.”

“Oh Y/N?” I hesitated before shutting the door.

Broken but hopeful eyes stared up at me. “Hm?”

“The album release- we’re only a few songs away from mixing and mastering. It’s almost done. Keep an eye out of those deets,” I pointed a playful finger at her.

She smiled again, this time large and bright. “Noted.”

I stood with my hands in my pockets as I watched her pull out of the driveway, giving one final wave as she turned down the block. With a deep breath, I focused my attention on another friend that needed my help. I know that he was dealing with a huge issue inside and he needed to know the truth.

As I stepped back inside the house, it didn’t surprise me to see that everyone in our inner circle had filled the kitchen as they watched the scene of Noah and Bailey unfold in front of them.

Chase went to rise to his feet from the kitchen island but I assured him with a tigh smile.

“She’s okay. She went home,” I mouthed.

That eased Malcolm and Chase only slightly as they went back to watching this mess unfold.

Bailey looked my way but my eyes were locked on Noah and I could see he was one more blow away from breaking.

It’s intervention time.

I knew where Noah was headed and it wasn’t good. Bailey let into him, and had no qualms on what she said to Y/N.

If looks could kill.

No scratch that. If Noah could change into a werewolf I think he would. The rage he held in his shoulders was proof enough.

NOAH

I felt that rage burning low in my gut again as Bailey stood in front of me. I wanted to kick her out, have her find her own way home, but the good part of me knew that it wasn’t right. She was drunk and it was late, something could happen to her and I couldn’t have that on my conscience. Thankfully while I was outside with Y/N, Matt called Bailey an Uber that was minutes away.

A few more words and this whole mess would be done and over with.

“Bailey, you need to tell Noah what you said to Y/N,” Nick said as he came up next to me.

My eyes snapped up from the old, worn, floors and up to her face. “What is he talking about?”

She shifted on her feet with hesitation before she explained every mean and hurtful thing she told Y/N tonight; no ounce of regret on her face.

“How could you say that to her?” I snapped while running a wild hand through my hair. “Why?! You think you know everything but you don’t know a fucking thing. My god, you were one of my biggest mistakes. You need to get the fuck out of my house and life. I’m serious.”

Except, she ignored me and rested her hands on her hips. “Y/N is Angel?”

My brow furrowed. “Why the fuck does that matter?”

“Uh,” Bailey hesitated, fidgeting with her nails. “I thought that’s what you called me because when I saw the contact in your phone-.”

“What the fuck,” I doubled back, head swirling in disbelief. “You went through my phone?”

A low whistle sounded from the kitchen but I didn’t have to look to see that it came from Matt.

Betrayal dug its knife deeper into my chest.

“I-I-just wanted to see what you were hiding-,” Bailey stammered. “I looked through your phone. I had this feeling you were hiding something from me. I thought it was my name but the texts didn’t match up.”

Suddenly, the little light bulb in my head clicked on.

“That’s how you know about Y/N’s endometriosis. You saw the group chat with me, Malcolm, and Chase?”

Bailey remained silent, only nodded to give me an answer.

“What the fuck, Bailey?! You know how private I am but yet you still went through something of mine!” I began to pace the room, running a hand over my face.

“I heard the voicemail, Noah! I just thought if we talked it out- I don’t know. We could work it out,” Bailey blew out a shaky breath.

I came to a halt in front of her. “There’s nothing to work out, Bailey. We're done; finished. You never should have been in the picture to begin with.

“Noted,” she nodded. “It’s Y/N, isn’t it? It’s always about her! I knew it. I should have followed my gut!”

A look flashed across her face. “You’ve thought about her..with me didn’t you?”

Everyone’s eyes landed on me like a burning itch to the back of my neck.

“Bailey,” I sighed, suddenly done with this conversation.

“She’s the one, isn’t she?” Bailey questioned, all the anger gone from her eyes and voice.

There was no use in denying the truth any longer. Y/N and I confessed our love for each other, it was time everyone else knew about it. Although, I’m sure they already did.

When I finally nodded to Bailey, it hit like a ton of bricks. She said those things, she uttered them. She spit at the face my soul was intertwined with.

I dare put my angel through this. That’s over now; never again will I put in the crossfires of someone else’s demons. This was my last battle. I could sense Bailey understood, but she wasn’t grasping with the idea that I wasn’t hers. She needed to let go.

There was something in the way I shouted at her earlier, a pain behind it. “How could you speak to her that way?”

My heart hurt, my hand clutching my chest in anguish. It’s as if I could feel her pain physically.

Must be a soulmate thing.

Nicholas watched me, he watched my eyes then he knew.

The anger was nothing but a shield for pain, like a cornered soldier randomly throwing out grenades, scared for his life, lonely, desperate. I breathed in real slowly.

What if nothing blew up? What if Bailey just truly didn’t grasp this?

With a deep breath, I rested my hands on my hips. “Bailey. I’m sorry. I wish I could give you what you’re looking for but I can’t.”

Once again my emotions turn jagged and my insides tight. I waited, wide eyed and heart in my mouth, hoping for kindness, when I explained this again.

“I didn’t want to hurt you. It was never my intention. I sincerely apologize,” I continued. “I fucked up and admit that. It was never supposed to get this far. I just-I’ll never get over these feelings for her. She’s all I think about. I love her and although I'm not proud you were caught in the crossfire. I’m not sorry for who I love. It’s always her, that’s my angel.”

Finally, a hint of a smile cracked on her stone face. “I already know what this was. There’s a part of you that you kept closed off from everyone, including me. It’s as if I wasn't the one you were really with. Your mind was always on her.”

My face twitched as she cupped my cheek “Don’t let her slip away, Noah. It will be the biggest regret and I don’t want to see it destroy you.”

I gently removed her hand and nodded. “Thank you. Again, I’m sorry.”

“I apologize for the scene I caused tonight. That wasn't mature of me. I was hurt but this wasn’t fair to any of you,” Bailey began to sober up. “I also owe a big one to Y/N.”

“Well make sure to let her know.”

“Uber is here,” Matt shook his phone while walking to the front door, opening it for it.

With a tight smile, Bailey grabbed her things and quickly ran out the door. Matt, with a two finger salute, kicked the door shut and locked it for good measure.

“Good fucking riddance,” he muttered under his breath.

“Wait, Y/N’s still outside,” I shed off my jacket, tossing it on the railing of the staircase. “Let her in.”

“Noah,” Nick spoke up. “She left.”

My eyes snapped over to him, heart rate intensifying as my breathing became harsh and ragged.

“She told me she’d stay,” I swallowed thickly.

My ears rang with white noise as the room began to close in around me.

“Don’t panic Noah, I spoke to her,” Nick reassured me with a hopeful smile.

“But-,” I shook my head.

“It’s okay. Y/N just needs to work through this. It’s a new phase Noah. You both have to get passed through some shit. You love each other. You are going to be together. Just have some hope.”

Knowing there was nothing I could do at this moment, I nodded and thought about that one word.

Hope.

Hope is in the way I feel like I can smile, in the way we are quiet when she can reach out with her eyes.

Gathering strength to make a better choice, to breathe and let love have a moment to guide me, to guide us.

I knew Y/N needed a little space after this. I knew that, perhaps I needed space as well. To feel love and be loved back.

We love each other. We love each other.

I still had a few things I needed to work out, and I think she might too.

Hope is in that soft shrug of hers, the playfulness of her smile. Every time we reach for the sun.

Maybe when we’re not so different, we will make amends and no longer having to pretend.

Nick’s voice was faltering as I sped up the stairs towards my bedroom where my phone was, still perfectly perched on my desk; almost as if Bailey set it back in the exact spot it was before she looked through it.

Me: Why’d you leave?

Message Undeliverable.

“What the fuck?” I muttered while sending another text.

Me: I understand you have some things to work on and so do I. But please don’t stray too far, Y/N. I’ll wait for years if I have to.

Message Undeliverable.

Fuck.

There was a chance her phone was off but that didn’t deter me from stopping.

Me: I love you.

I breathed out a chuckle when I saw the text bubble turn blue, meaning the text went through.

Angel 🪽: I love you too, mochi.

The corner of my lips curled up in a smile as that word echoed in my mind again.

Hope.

As I stood in front of the bathroom mirror shirtless and a pair of warm gray joggers, sometime after setting my phone back down, I had the scissors on one end of the counter and a buzzer on the other. A soft knock sounded on the opened door and I gave a weak smile to Folio.

“Are you doing alright?” He questioned while leaning against the doorframe.

“It hurts, knowing that once again there’s this space between us but the outcome is different this time around. For once, there’s hope.”

“It’ll be okay man,” he assured me.

“I know.”

Folio pushed himself off the door frame to hope up on the bathroom counter. “There’s no fucking universe where yall don’t end up together.”

“Thank you for your optimism,” I smiled lightly.

"It’s true! Somehow in every universe you end up together. Whether you two are married with a son named Kenji or she joins us on the road together after the two of you spend one night together."

My heart fluttered at the sound of those alternate lives. “Kenji? Let me guess-we kick Matt’s ass in Mai tai?”

“Yes, bro!” Folio smacked my chest. “ Y/N is always meant to be there, Noah.”

I leaned against the opposite wall. “It’s wild how thought out you have this idea of me and Y/N.”

“Ah, I don’t know,” he shrugged with that goofy smile. “I can see it. There’s other universes out there, you know? I watched this special about it on Discovery+ or some shit.”

“That so?” I raised a brow with a chuckle.

“Yeah, who knows. But I believe y’all will be.”

We fell in silence for a long beat before it was me who smacked his chest. "Michelle has you watching these specials, huh?”

Folio scoffed while rolling his eyes. “She barely pays attention after she asks to put it on.”

I couldn't help but laugh, imagining Y/N snoozing on my lap after we watched another episode of I Think You Should Leave.

“I can’t wait to have that,” I admitted.

“In time. I promise you. I'm your friend, and I know. Take the time you both need. Heal. I’m a firm believer in patience when you’re trying to catch a good one. Trust me, I’m a fisherman,” Folio grinned while adjusting his fishing cap.

“Fucking fishboy,” I rolled my eyes with a smile.

A hopeful one.

“So what’s with that?” He pointed to the scissors.

I shrugged while holding the scissors now. “I’ve had all this weight at the back of my neck for years now. I need something new, a breath of fresh air. I’m suffocating. I need to see the back of my fucking neck, man.”

“I’m not going to be here in case you regret that decision,” Folio patted my shoulder before jumping off the counter, leaving me alone yet again.

With a long breath, I gathered my hair in a low ponytail, keeping it in one hand while I brought the scissors to it, the sound of chopping echoing in the small bathroom.

“Hang up my shame on display for you,” I sang low as I held up the cut ponytail in front of my face.

I shivered when a cold breeze brushed against the nape of my neck, reveling in the feeling.

When there was no light, when there was nothing beyond the boundaries of my skin, hope was a ladder woven of heaven’s vibrations that spoke right to my healing soul.

Hopes was a ladder that both Y/N and I could make it to the top. Because I believe it's destined in our hearts.

All I knew is that Y/N loves me back.

She fucking loves me.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #enemies to lovers #right person wrong time #starcrossed lovers

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