#he is HIGH on being white boy of the month and i love that for him

[firehose118]

truly obsessed with the fact that lou likes thirst tweets about himself. he’s so 2014 celebrity coded and i really can’t get enough of him

[nkogneatho]

Y'all know those insecure girlfriends on tiktok when their boyfriend does their makeup accurately, they go “what bitch taught you that?” yeah, Gojo is the male version of that.

He knows he is attractive, and that everyone dotes on him. But you look out of this world. Everybody wants you. Like all of his friends have tried to hit on you a few times. They said it's just playful, but his insecurities kicked in.

One evening, you showed up to one of his totally unserious basketball games with his homies, cheering him every time he dunks.

“Suguru, my girl's watchin'. Gotta show off a bit, yeah?” he smirks, licking his lips his reflexes were so good that barely anyone else could keep up with him. It was like he had drank 10 liters of energy drink with the sudden speed boost.

You hopped in his arms when the match was over, peppering his face with kisses as he enjoyed his victory, showing a middle finger to suguru to which he rolled his eyes.

“you look so cool when you jump so high, toru!” you squealed in happiness. He really did look cool.

“hehe, you liked that, baby? Jumped a little higher just for you.” he kissed your forehead.

“hate to say it, but he is undefeated.” suguru spoke up. “feel like we need to put you on the court, y/n just to distract him so we can win.” your cheeks started burning up at that. You and satoru have been dating for a few months, but you were still not used to the way everyone talks about him as if he's a simp for you. well, he is and should be.

“i would still win though.” your eyes shifted to gojo. You were a little offended at that, even though it was just messing around. It was his habit.

“alright. Let's have a 1v1” the men did not miss the shift of your tone. Suguru knew satoru might be in trouble, while the white haired wasn't worrying about it too much. Because you're not too savvy with basketball aside from what he's taught you, and he is a pro. Sure, you would be mad later, but nothing he can't make up to you.

The boys spread in corners, as you and gojo exchanged a competitive gaze—yours was competitive and his was more of a “i love when you get riled up”—before the match began. The game was not anything serious, so all you had to do was score five points. It was a piece pf cake for gojo but you were being surprisingly competitive. You scored two points just as soon as he did. His homeboys thought that gojo was going easy on you but suguru knew he was struggling. But he lives up to his name and score two points, making him just 1 score away from his sweet victory. There's no way you can win now. If you miss this chance, it's over. But you remembered something someone had taught you and all that “i'd still win though” just pumped up enough adrenaline and oh. my. god.

Gojo's jaw dropped as you shot a three pointer, your lips widening into an evil grin, and all the boys cheered at your win. You were sure they're gonna tease him about today until eternity. Toru was impressed…well, for a few seconds before he hit you with a,

“which motherfucker taught you that? because I don't remember teaching you this yet.” you were laughing but his reaction was genuine.

“hey, c'mon now. don't call me a motherfucker.” suguru slid in, a hand resting on gojo's arm. “i'm a good teacher, aren't I?” he winked at you.

“the fuck? When the fuck did you teach her?”

“last week when we were playing at toji's party.” gojo was too busy playing beer bong at that time.

“thank you, suguru. And you…" you looked at your man, "where is allat “but I'd still win though” attitude?” you mocked him.

“ight fine. you got me. i was just messin' around and ya'know that. don't get mad at me, baby,” he snaked an arm around your waist. “we're both winners. We gotta celebrate properly, right?” he leaned closer to your ears.

“now let's see who wins in the bedroom, tonight. hmm? You know i gotta settle the score, princess.”

[spilledartery]

loveless union . . . ( kunikuzushi )

[ male reader, noble / clan ! au, angst, unrequited love, sex, cheating ( ? ), implied trans kuni, pregnancy – i need to feed my breeding kink, please bare with me. fujoshis, mlm fetishizers, dni. ]

it was an arranged marriage. neither you nor kunikuzushi wanted this, but since your clan was indebted to his clan, your parents had just proposed you to be married to the raiden heir. it was shocking how the heir’s mother, ei, agreed, given how she was the one who casted demise upon your clan.

the wedding ceremony came and went, and so did the past couple of years. kunikuzushi was harsh, he didn’t want this – he was forced to sever his ties with his ( secret ) lover from the kaedehara clan, he was forced to marry someone he never loved; you.

you never loved him, too, but, ever the gentleman you are, you treated him with care and respect. when he was sick, you’d tend to him, you would compliment him, you would never talk bad about him. despite his opposite treatment of you, you understand. neither of you wanted this.

it was easy to fool your families, too. whenever yours and his parents are on the same table, you and kunikuzushi would act the star-crossed lovers, making them believe that you’d learned how to love each other.

the two of you would laugh, stare at each other lovingly, hold each other’s hands, lean closer to whisper something in each other’s ears – even ei couldn’t help but watch fondly; you were taking good care of each other.

“the both of you aren’t getting any younger,” your mother gushed, somehow confident to talk, despite being in the same table of her rival woman. she took a sip of wine, sending you and kunikuzushi knowing looks. “when are you both supposed to bring forth your heirs, hm?”

beside you, kunikuzushi tensed, and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. you understand, you always do.

your darling husband masked his true feelings with a seemingly shy smile. “oh,” he said, glancing at you with a soft look. “we... have been trying.”

you saw through those eyes, and you acted along. “my beloved is right, mother.” you took the boy’s hand and pressed a kiss on his knuckles. “it may take a while, but there will surely be little us’ running around the manor soon enough.”

“we will be expecting,” came the unreadable tone of kunikuzushi’s mother.

the next few months came by, and you and your husband are walking around the festivities. there were stalls, bustling vendors calling for the consumers’ attention. you two played the part of a married couple: you held hands, wrapped your arm around his waist, pressed close to each other – no one suspects a thing.

until you and kunikuzushi saw a certain boy with white hair and a red streak, he was staring at your husband. ah, it seems like they still have their affair going on, and you felt your heart shatter, just for a bit. you look down at kunikuzushi, who was in your arms, but looked longingly at his lover, the one he truly loved.

you let go of him. and he just looked up at you with hidden gratefulness, and rushed towards the kaedehara.

kunikuzushi didn’t return to your shared bed that night.

you understand, truly, you do. it was a good thing you stopped yourself on the brink of falling in love with him. you two may be married, but that didn’t mean you were meant for each other. you understand.

even now as you entered his body, after a week of the festival, of him with the kaedehara, you understand that the pleasure placed upon you is nothing but an obligation, a responsibility. it was to appease your families – to create an heir. even as you held kunikuzushi’s hand delicately as you pushed further into him, you knew that this union isn’t genuine.

you merely placed a kiss on his cheek as he reached his orgasm, and while you emptied inside of him, you murmured sweet nothings into his ear to calm him down after his high. and when he fell asleep without so much as a reply to you, you cleaned him and covered his naked body with the covers. you turned your body away from him, after – you know he wouldn’t be happy if he saw himself against your chest in the morning.

it was into six weeks when he began showing symptoms. kunikuzushi was nauseous, he continuously complained that his stomach was aching, and when you both talked to a trusted mage, they confirmed that you and kunikuzushi are expecting an heir.

you took good care of him. whenever something is aching, his shoulders, his feet, you would wordlessly massage him, you would bring him tea, knowing he loves bitterness; you played the part of being his husband, being a to-be father.

it was two months to his pregnancy that he felt his heart skipping a beat whenever you’re near. kunikuzushi told himself that he’d never feel something for you, he swore not to – but he couldn’t help it, not when you were taking such good care of him despite his attitude towards you. you never complained, never voiced out any discontent nor did you scowl at him when he always sent you a piercing glare.

perhaps, now, as your own family is beginning to grow, he could finally return the treatment you deserved from him, as his spouse.

it was strange when he began snuggling with you when you both went to sleep, when he began kissing your cheek, pecking your lips, smiling at you – it sent a small spark in your heart, but you don’t understand. is this because he’s only pregnant? he does not only crave for strange combinations of food, but also company? well, you still played along. you cared for him.

though it was unfortunate that during this time, you had to leave for mondstadt to attend some meeting – about creating allegiance there and whatnot. it was surprising that kunikuzushi kissed you passionately before you board the ship. you kissed him back just as fiercely, but you know it was merely for show because people are around; they wouldn’t want to see a supposed married couple being cold and distant to each other, especially when the spouse is to leave for many nights.

but what kunikuzushi wasn’t prepared for was the change of your demeanor when you came back. it wasn’t a bad change, but one that slowly broke kunikuzushi’s heart.

he was heavily pregnant, and he wore a robe too big to cover the bump in his belly – the bulge was still visible, but not much. kunikuzushi greeted you with a kiss on your cheek when you came home, asking how was your stay, if it was successful... though you answered these questions diligently, something was amiss.

no longer did you gaze warmly at him, but you became more distracted. you still cared for him, yes – but, now, kunikuzushi thinks it’s merely an obligation, nothing more, nothing less. your touches were more genuine then, now, it lacks those. when he kisses you, it was you who would pull away first and just kiss his forehead before turning away from him.

what had happened?

sometimes, he’d watch you write down on a parchment. it became a normal occurrence now. who were you writing for, he never asked. when you receive letters, he’d watch you smile – that smile that was once directed at him, but now it was more honest, like the reason for it was deeper.

he knew he shouldn’t be doing this, invading your privacy. you were asleep, and he walked to the dresser where you kept all the letters you’d been receiving. kunikuzushi subconsciously placed his hand on his baby bump as he unfolded a paper and read.

ah.

it seems you’d found someone who piqued you interest while you were in mondstadt. the way this person wrote to you was far from being friendly. it was as if...

kunikuzushi wiped a tear that fell from his eye. a couple more flowed through his cheeks, though, and he didn’t care wipe them anymore.

had he been too late love you? was it too late for you to love him?

reminiscing of the times when he treated you harshly, when he talked so bad about you, when he disregarded your opinions, when he rolled his eyes at your compliments, when he felt disgusted whenever you kiss his knuckles... perhaps, he does deserve this, and perhaps you’ve finally found someone you loved outside the marriage, as he had been with his affair with the kaedehara before. he deserves this.

kunikuzushi understands.

[jlheon]

౨ৎ — love exists, i’m full of it (psh)

pairing. situationship! park sunghoon x fem! reader genre. angst + fluff + suggestive wc. 2745 notes. sunghoon is toxic + implied they are involved sexually + kinda fwb (?) library.

🗯️ extra peng note. i wish i redeemed sunghoon more but you can take the rushed ending as you will </3

synopsis. when park sunghoon breaks up with his long time girlfriend he needs something to get his mind off her, you happen to be the perfect distraction : a girl who’s naive and has never had a boyfriend

it has been five months since you started your sort of 'arrangement’ with park sunghoon.

you met him at a party. a party you had no business being at.

the party was your average frat party. you were only there to pick up your drunk friend, only to be left banging on the bathroom door for twenty minutes.

she was there with some unknown guy and she told you to go home.

you tried to get through the sea of sweaty bodies when you bumped into someone's hard chest. his drink spilled all over your white shirt, making the drenched fabric completely see through.

you recognized sunghoon as the quiet boy from high school. he never spoke and he was barely present in class, you were bewildered when you watched him walk the stage at graduation.

he seemed to have recognized you too.

you were even prettier than he remembered. that night let himself be a little selfish.

sunghoon was quick to apologize and lead you to his room to lend you a clean shirt.

you ended up staying longer than expected.

sunghoon helped you out the wet shirt, throwing it in his laundry basket, and telling you that he would get out the stain for you.

when sunghoon helped you slip into one of his old shirts he let himself act without thinking.

“my shirt looks good on you,” sunghoon licks his lips as he shamelessly checks you out.

“oh,” you blush, staring at the floor. “thank you.”

“you know,” sunghoon comes closer to whisper in your ear. “you grew up well, i haven’t seen you since graduation.” that was a year ago.

that night, at the age of 19, park sunghoon had successfully taken your first kiss. well, kisses plural. sunghoon had also taken your first make-out.

after an awkward first kiss, you got the hang of it.

sunghoon found it adorable. he could tell you had never kissed anyone before, and you had even outright told him before he leaned it.

your kisses were innocent and shy, nothing like his ex-girlfriend.

he had to place your hands on his shoulders since you stood there with your arms at your sides awkwardly.

sunghoon tried to advance with you once it got steamy but you lightly pushed him off of you.

“sorry,” you apologized. “i’ve never done it before. that was my first kiss,” you sat on his lap with flushed cheeks and tousled hair from sunghoon running his fingers through it.

“that’s okay,” he reassured you. “i wouldn’t want to force you to do anything.”

you try to get up from your spot but sunghoon is stronger than you. he has a firm grip on your hips as he stares into your eyes.

“you’re leaving already?” sunghoon pouts, he's so cute you contemplate kissing him again.

“i mean yeah,” you scratched the back of your neck. “i thought you were looking for a hookup.”

“you don’t want to go further and that’s okay,” sunghoon explains. “but that doesn’t mean you can’t stay.”

you’re even more flustered at his words. why would park sunghoon want to be close to you?

you accept his offer nonetheless. slipping into his arms as you lay on his bed.

sunghoon listens to you ramble about anything. from what you did today leading up to this moment and to the fact you have never had a boyfriend before. you can’t stop talking when your nervous, and park sunghoon makes you even more than nervous.

you’re scared you’re talking too much but sunghoon’s short comments and hums tell you to keep going.

at 12:08 you realize you should probably get back to your dorm.

sunghoon walks you down to your car, holding you close as you weave through the crowd of drunk bodies at the party. he kisses you goodbye before you drive off as a blushing mess.

in the morning, you excitedly tell your hungover roommate about the encounter you had with the mysterious boy from high school.

she informs you the night before you met sunghoon was the very night he and his long-term girlfriend had broken up.

truthfully, hearing that made you feel kind of sad.

two days later he finally texts you that you can come over to exchange shirts.

when sunghoon sees you standing at the door of the frat he can’t help but think about how much prettier you look in the daylight.

clad in a cute pink dress as you stare up at him with your doe eyes, holding his shirt neatly folded in your arms.

he doesn’t think twice before letting you inside and leading you up to his room again.

you end up kissing for an ungodly amount of time. when you don’t feel like it anymore, you find the courage you had in you from the self-pep talk you had before coming and ask him.

“is it true you just broke up with your ex?” you ask while you lean on his chest as you're cuddled up on his bed.

“yeah,” sunghoon replies, eyes still glued to his phone.

“oh,” you frown. “are you over her?”

“it’s only been four days silly,” sunghoon chuckles, setting his phone to look down at you. “of course, i’m not.”

“oh,” you say again. “what is this then?”

“what is what?” sunghoon quirks an eyebrow at you.

“you took my first kiss,” you reminded him, hoping that would mean anything.

“oh,” he says slowly. “this could be a causal thing. you know while i’m getting over her you can get experience.”

“oh i see,” you look at the ceiling.

sunghoon moves down to peck your pouting lips. “so when you get a real boyfriend you’ll know everything since you learned from the best!”

that stung, but regardless you kiss him again to get your mind off of it.

now, three months later since the start of this arrangement, you’ve found sunghoon everything but casual.

for crying out loud, you’re sitting at a fancy restaurant on a date with sunghoon for your birthday.

“happy birthday ____,” sunghoon smiles as he spoon-feeds you the desert he ordered.

“thank you, sunghoon,” you giggle, eating the cake as he watches.

once you’re finished with your bite sunghoon leans in, pecking your lips and licking the bit of icing on the corner of your mouth.

not a day goes past where you don’t wonder why this hasn’t ended and why sunghoon doesn’t want to be your first boyfriend.

every time sunghoon’s name leaves your mouth you’re reminded of the time two months ago when you tried to call him hoon.

he ghosted you for a week after the nickname slipped during a heated make out session in your dorm room.

“i don’t think you should call me hoon,” sunghoon stands at your door, a week after the incident, a week after you last saw him. “you’re starting to sound like you’re my girlfriend.”

“oh,” you stare at him, the sleepiness leaving your body. “of course, i get it!” you force a small smile.

sunghoon enters your dorm at 2:18 am.

he walks towards your bed before getting comfortable under your covers with his arms open. you find yourself wrapped up in his embrace that night and well into the afternoon.

you take note of how he doesn’t kiss you the whole day he spends at your place.

you don’t know whether that is a good or bad thing. on one hand, maybe he is disgusted with you for calling him by a nickname but that wouldn’t make any sense considering the fact he has not let you go in the past six hours. though you hope that this means he finds companionship in you that is more than just the kissing and hookups.

you know you should have stood up a while ago but when sunghoon’s hands find their way into your hair to gently scratch your scalp you give in.

sunghoon and you spend the night together for your birthday. when you wake up skin to skin with him, you start to feel sick.

what the hell have you gotten yourself into?

you’re not even sure what you should label the relationship you and sunghoon have.

sunghoon is your friend. a friend that the first time you talked to him in over a year, took you back to his bedroom door and took your first kiss.

sunghoon is also the closest thing you have ever had to a lover. he’s taken almost all of your firsts. whether that is your first kiss or your first time. he takes you on dates and he never leaves in the middle of the night.

he’s always there for you when you need a ride after a night out with your friends.

which leads you to the latest encounter you’ve had with park sunghoon.

you were so drunk. unbelievably drunk.

it’s been five months since you have started seeing sunghoon and coincidentally the same month your best friend returned from her exchange student program abroad.

you went out for drinks to catch up with her and inevitably spilled your guts about the whole sunghoon situation.

and now you’re wasted with all of your friends with nobody to call and get you but him.

“____?” his raspy voice reverberates in your ear.

“hoon! oh my god, sorry! i mean sunghoon!” your cheery voice slurs. “are you busy?”

“it’s two am,” he responds sarcastically, but your hazy mind doesn’t let you recognize that.

“oh, sorry for bothering you then,” you apologize.

“i’m kidding ____,” sunghoon chuckes. “you need anything?”

“if it’s not a bother, can you pick me up?”

“where are you?” you hear his sheets rustle in the background.

“i’m at a club!” you giggle. “not sure which one!”

“____,” sunghoon sighs. “send me your location.”

“okay!”

when sunghoon arrives at your location he easily spots you drunk on the sidewalk. sitting on the disgusting pavement but you were too drunk and tired to care.

he gets out and carefully gets you into the passenger’s side of his car, buckling you in as you were too sleepy to do it yourself.

once sunghoon can get you inside of your apartment he helps you take off your shoes. carrying your tired body from the car to the hallway to your bed. taking off your makeup with some micellar water even though he saw makeup wipes in your cabinet because he knows they break you out.

he grabs a hoodie that he coincidentally had been looking for off your dresser and changes you out of the short red dress you had been wearing.

sunghoon tucks you under the covers before he sits on the empty side of the bed. he checks his phone to see it is way past three am and he decides maybe he should just stay the night. you’d think that after how long you two have been seeing each other you’ve spent the whole night together but sunghoon always insists on leaving or driving you home. he does this because ‘we aren’t a couple’.

“why are you still here?” you break the silence, which shocks sunghoon as he was sure you were completely knocked out.

“you scared me,” sunghoon breathily chuckles. “thought you were asleep.”

“‘m waiting for you to leave,” you yawn out, snuggling further into your duvet, sunghoon can’t help the smile breaking onto his face at the sight.

“why?” he questions, climbing under the covers next to you.

“don’t wanna embarrass myself in front of you,” you answer meekly. “you make me nervous.”

“don’t be silly ____, it’s just me,” sunghoon attempts to reassure you.

“that’s the problem,” you mumble, confusing sunghoon further. “being around you is weird because we’re re not dating but sometimes it feels like we are.”

“i guess so,” he stares at the side of your face, admiring how you look even prettier without makeup on while he can, given the fact you never let him see you without makeup. he doesn’t understand why. “but i’ve seen you in so many different states.”

“i kind of hate that,” you confess. “i’ve always wanted to fall in love. you check off almost everything ten year old me wished for, except for the fact we’re not dating, and you like me like that anyways.”

you never fail to make park sunghoon speechless.

“i just know little me is screaming at me,” you giggle, though your mood changes drastically. “i know that love is real because i exist and i’m unfortunately full of it, but i think i have too much already so nobody is going to give me any back.” you shift away from him.

“that’s not true,” sunghoon takes a deep breath before wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

“then why can’t it be you?” your voice falters as tears well up in your eyes. “i want it to be you.”

“i can’t answer that right now,” sunghoon says apologetically, holding you closer.

he does not get any sleep that night. his eyes don’t even shut, only closing for a second to blink. sunghoon cannot stop thinking about your tearful confession.

your words replay in his mind like a broken record.

he wants to be with you so bad but he fears that once you establish your relationship he’s going to be the worst boyfriend imaginable. since that’s what his ex and him had constantly fought over, leading to the demise of their relationship.

he’s never shared with anyone how toxic him and his ex were.

so when he met you that night at the party he let his selfishness take over him. the way you were so sweet and shy towards him was so refreshing.

sunghoon knows it was wrong to string you along so he could use you to get over his ex girlfriend, but he couldn’t just let you go, but he also couldn’t jump into another relationship so quickly.

he failed to consider how this whole arrangement would make you feel. you’d been seeing each other for nearly half a year now, way longer than either of you anticipated.

but now he knows that you stuck around even though it was doing nothing but hurt you just because he had you completely wrapped around his finger.

you wanted to love him and he didn’t think he could be good enough to give you the love you dreamed about.

sunghoon thought he was a total douche.

the next morning you're surprised to feel a pair of arms around you. maybe you finally broke out of your shell last night and met someone at the bar who wasn’t sunghoon.

sunghoon can’t bear to hurt you, but it seems like he’s already been doing that all along.

“you’re awake,” you hear his familiar voice and slip out of his hold, sitting up, and scooting away.

“i am,” you reply, looking down at your clothes. “why are you still here?”

“am i not allowed to be?” sunghoon jokes, his eyebags prominent.

“i mean,” you scratch your head. “after what i said last night i thought you would hate me. this is only supposed to be casual and i ruined it.”

“you didn’t ruin anything,” sunghoon sits up and reaches for your hand to interlace it with his. “it’s my fault for-”

“no, don’t blame yourself. i knew what i was getting into and i assumed you would like me given time. i just hope we can still be friends,” your glossy eyes bore into his.

“i don’t want to be friends-”

“wow, okay. after i just spilled my guts?” you pull your hand away from his and back away.

“stop cutting me off,” sunghoon runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “i want to be your boyfriend.”

“am i still drunk,” you whisper to yourself as you check your surroundings.

“you’re sober now,” sunghoon reaches out for you once more. “let me be your boyfriend, please?”

you stare at sunghoon’s desperate and tired expression and crack a smile. throwing yourself into his lap. “not yet,” you say, muffled against his neck, as close to him as possible.

“this can be a restart,” you suggest, gazing up at him. “i think i’ll need some time.”

“can’t be a restart when i’ve seen every inch of you,” sunghoon smirks as he looks down.

“shut up!” your ears redden as you push his shoulder.

“take you all the time you need,” sunghoon pecks your forehead. “i’m always waiting for you and i’ll prove myself.”

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 2

Masterlist || AO3

Pairing: Millionaire Joel Miller x Female Reader Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.  Chapter Summary: Try as he might, Joel just can’t shake the memory of you. Try as you might, you can’t stop thinking of the woman tied to his desk. CW: The slow burn is burning. Mentions of death and underage drinking. Topless in public, this is a love story about BDSM after all. Reader does have some physical descriptions, so maybe more of an OFC, or just pretend you have pouty lips and a slightly upturned nose. Double POV (reader and Joel). AN: Thank you SO FUCKING MUCH for all the love on chapter one of this story. I literally cannot believe it surpasses 1000 notes in just a month, you're all insane and I love you. Dividers by @saradika-graphics. Biiiig shout outs to the bb's who have been so supportive of me spiralling and panicking this last month over the next chapter. I'd be in a deep dark cave without you @mermaidgirl30 @littlevenicebitch69 @lotusbxtch @evolnoomym @joelmillerisapunk and @milla-frenchy . Thank you! I feel like I'm giving some sort of Oscars speech and if you're still reading this, you're the real MVP. XO Word Count: 8.5k

~ Joel - 27 Years Ago ~

Joel’s stands in the garage of someone he barely knows, surrounded by drunk and rowdy classmates from his high school. He’s a senior, graduating in just a few weeks and moments like this are one of the perks of being the star designated hitter and first baseman, everyone wants you at their party. Someone hands him a warm, flat beer that was pumped poorly from a keg as they pat his back roughly in congratulations. Joel’s not sure how a bunch of seventeen year olds managed to get a keg, most likely an older brother, but he drinks the shitty beer all the same. Speaking of brothers, he hasn’t seen Tommy in a while. He’s only fifteen and he promised their mom he’d keep an eye on him. The younger Miller shouldn’t be at a seniors party, but that's where those perks come in again, because if Joel was good, Tommy was better. In fact, he was so much better that he’s played up a whole age group his entire life, always right beside Joel. Tommy was the back catcher, and tonight he got the eleventh inning game winning out at home for them to win the state championship. 

He finds Tommy chatting with a group of girls, all of whom are incredibly beautiful. They’re going to be very disappointed when they find out how much younger he is than them. Joel smiles into his red solo cup as he takes a sip of stale beer. He tucks his free hand into the pocket of his light blue wranglers and walks over to the wall of the garage. He leans back and crosses one cowboy booted foot over the other. The brim of his cowboy hat grazes the unpainted drywall behind him. Texas, and the country, in the late nineties was where everyone wanted to be, and Joel Miller could have been the poster boys for teenage country boys in 1997.

Brooks & Dunn plays on someone's CD player in the corner, laughter and people talking overlaps until it’s just noise to Joel. He stands back, watching his younger brother effortlessly charm the five pretty girls around him. All of them in tight blue jeans, lacy white tops, denim vests and cowboy boots. He grabs one by the hand and Joel overhears, “I’ll teach ya how to two step, shame to not know in a place like this.” Then the motherfucker winks at her like he’s some sort of cowboy Casanova. Joel lets out a silent laugh through his nose and sips the beer again shaking his head. 

Just as Tommy pulls the pretty little blonde over towards the unmarked and unofficial dance floor in the corner of the garage the song changes. Slow guitar, followed by the unmistakable twang of Tim Magraw’s voice. Joel didn’t know it then, but that song would change the course of his life and intertwine itself in the very fabric of his being.

‘Dancin’ in the dark, Middle of the night’

That’s when he sees her, tall and slender, deep olive toned skin and pale green eyes. Her dark curly hair cascades over one of her shoulders. She’s laughing with another classmate, and even though he can’t hear the sound of it over the noise of the party, he can tell it’s a light and melodic sound, and he wants to spend the rest of his life drawing that out of her. 

‘Takin’ your heart, An holdin’ it tight’

He puts his warm beer on the work bench beside him and takes off his black felt Stetson, placing it over his broad chest, hoping the comfort of his favourite hat would slow the rate at which his heart is beating. 

‘Emotional touch, Touchin’ my skin, And askin’ you to do, What you’ve been doin’ all over again’

She looks over at him, smiling shyly, and before he knows what he’s doing he’s walking over to her. His legs move on their own accord, knees shaking as he approaches the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

‘Oh, it’s a beautiful thing, Don’t think I can keep it all in, I just gotta let you know, What is that won’t let me go’

Everything in the room fades as she fully comes into view. Beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe the girl in front of him. She radiates a warmth that he’s only ever known his mother to radiate. It’s the first time he’s ever seen this girl, but she feels like home. This is it, that one thing that everyone says you’re supposed to feel. The thing his grandpa told him when he was younger, “Son, you’ll just know. It sounds ridiculous, but when I saw your grandma it was like a pull behind my belly button. I just knew, and I’ve known everyday since then.”

“Howdy, ma’am,” Joel says, tipping his hat to her before placing it back on his head. 

She giggles, confirming his earlier thoughts. It really is the sweetest fucking sound he’s ever heard. “Hi.”

He holds out a hand to her and she takes it, her skin is so warm and smooth. In that moment he knows that hers will be the last hand he ever holds. Fire flushes through his veins as he continues, “I’m Joel, what’s your name?”

“Oh, I know who you are Joel Miller,” she flirts, not letting go of his hand. “I’m Tiffany.”

“Tiffany,” he repeats, his voice going deeper as he says it. It’s egotistical but he loves the way girls shiver just a little when he lowers his register. “And how is it that you know who I am?”

She slides her hand from his and reaches up to grab his cowboy hat, plopping it onto her head. “Star first baseman and designated hitter, everyone knows Joel Miller. Look around, look at all these girls lookin’ at you, cowboy.”

For the first time in his life Joel finds himself blushing, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Tiffany. 

“I only see one girl.” She rolls her eyes and swats at his bicep at the cheesy line, but that was it for both of them. From that point they were inseparable. 

They both turned eighteen a few months later, and just ten months, and a thirty two hour labour after Tiff turned eighteen, a tiny little Sarah came into the world all pink and screaming. Joel hears that song again as he watches Tiffany hold that little bundle of blankets, ‘Better than I was, More than I am, And all of this happened, By taking your hand.’

They get married when Sarah is just a few months old. Both his beautiful curly haired girls in white dresses, Tiffany grabbing that same black Stetson off his head during their first dance. He holds them both, swaying from side to side, a hot tear rolling down his cheek at how goddamn happy he is. ‘And who I am now, Is who I wanted to be, And now that we’re together, I’m stronger than ever, I’m happy and free’.

Things for their little family of three are perfect. They buy the house with the white picket fence and the wrap around porch. Joel gets a job working construction and enjoys a nightcap with his beautiful young wife on their front porch every night. They make love often, slow and sweaty, Joel worshiping her soft copper toned skin inch by glorious inch. Tiffany wraps every minute of her day around Sarah and being a sweet, devoted housewife. Nothing seems to stand in their way. Until the diagnosis shortly before Sarah starts Kindergarten. 

Tiffany is too young, they’re all too young. This isn’t something that happens to people their age, they haven’t had enough time. Joel spends the next few months in a haze, it has to be a bad dream. The appointments, the treatments, the call to 911 when the illness starts to win. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. 

He holds Tiffany until the very end. Sponging a soft kiss to her forehead, whispering his goodbyes as they shut off the machines keeping her here. “You’ve been so strong, my love. You fought so hard. I know you’re scared to go, I’m scared too, but we’ll do it like we do everything else. Together. I’ll be ok, Sarah will be ok. Just rest now. I love you.” 

As she takes her last shaky and shallow breath, a sound will live with him until he takes a breath that matches hers, that song echoes through his hollow chest. ‘It’s your love, It does something to me, It sends a shock right through me, I can’t get enough’.

You - Present Day

You roll to a stop outside Mister Miller’s house for your second day of cleaning. As you look towards the impressive house your pussy flutters at the memories of yesterday - the almost pornographic noises that were made in that office, his soft and kind eyes as he apologized profusely in the kitchen. You were supposed to go to a study group last night, but instead you got lost in a rabbit hole of porn where women are tied up and fingered. You got yourself off four times thinking about a man you’re not even supposed to know, wishing it was his thick fingers hitting that spot inside of you that you can’t reach on your own. You felt guilty about it last night and now being back in his home you have that same sinking feeling again. 

Stupid. Sacrificing my future for a fantasy. Never again. 

You let yourself in the house and look at the list in your cleaning app. You pop in your AirPods and start listening to your favourite true crime podcast; thankful for the new episode, a gruesome distraction as you scrub baseboards and lightswitches. The episode ends and in an attempt to not let your mind wander to the gorgeous man that lives here, and the depraved new things you’ve discovered about yourself, you start an educational audiobook about civil rights law. You might want Joel Miller to strap you down and whisper filth in your ears, but you are a good person, and your aspiration in life is to help people who face discrimination on a daily basis. 

You breeze around his home, checking off each task and before you know it it’s almost one in the afternoon. You have almost your whole list complete, his soft sheets are in the dryer (and yes, you are incredibly proud of yourself for only putting the luxurious white fabric to your face twice on the way to the washer). You only have the patio furniture to spray down and the kitchen counters to wipe. That’s when your stomach growls, almost as if to remind you that it’s the perfect time to take a break while the dryer finishes. You haul all your stuff out to your car and lock up, sitting in your front seat as you take out your lunch container.

An engine revs in the distance and your heart skips in your chest. Before you even have time to wonder if it’s Joel’s car, one of the black garage doors slides open and Joel’s obsidian coloured Aston Martin rolls by you, stopping with precision on the shiny cement floor of the garage. You avert your eyes, focused on your container of chicken noodle soup. The left side of your face feels the warmth of his gaze fixed on you. Without looking over you can tell he is studying you and it takes everything you have to keep your eyes on your measly lunch. 

The afternoon sun is blocked as Joel raps his knuckles on your window. You glance over at him, looking up through your lashes. He’s looking at you intensely but you can’t quite place his expression. As always, his deep brown eyes are locked on yours, he could either be happy to see you or incredibly disappointed in you. But one thing is for sure, he’s calculating your every need with those warm and inviting eyes. He knocks again so you crank the handle to roll your window down a crack.

He raises one eyebrow at you, both hands rest on the roof of your SUV as he leans forward to speak to you through the small opening in the window. “Seriously?” His voice is laced with sarcasm. 

“What?” You say, “Can’t be too safe.”

He blinks at you before continuing, “What'd ya doin’ out here?”

You lift your tupperware container a little, willing the tingles between your thighs to stop, “Eating my lunch.”

He rolls his eyes, running his hand along his greying scruff. “You’re eatin’ lukewarm soup in your car in the middle of February.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement, but his voice is warm and curious, and you start to realize that the look on his face isn’t happiness or disappointment, but concern. 

You nod, “Yes.” His eyes dance around your face and you swear your heart is beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. Fluttering so fast that it’s traveling up your throat and you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it. 

“Get out of the car. Come warm that up and eat inside.” His voice is thick with concern, entire face soft as he looks at you. 

You swallow your heart back down to where it belongs, “I’m not allowed to do that, Mister Miller.”

His cheeks redden a little and some of the softness in him disappears, “Don’t call me that, it’s jus’ Joel to you.”

“I’m not even supposed to know your name, Mister Miller. I can’t call you by your first name.”

He shifts his weight onto one foot and points a thick finger at you through your window, “Don’t. Either you call me Joel or nothin’ at all. Come inside,” he drops his pointer finger to the door handle. He pulls on it to find it locked. “Seriously?”

“I told you, I can’t be too safe!” You can help but think how cute he looks all flustered - shaking his head at you for being cautious in a neighborhood where you could probably scream your credit card number and no one would use it. If anything, the wealthy homeowners on this street might transfer you money when they see the state of your vehicle. 

“You’re eatin’ inside.” He says flatly. 

“I told you, I can’t. We aren’t allowed to do that. You’re a client, Mist - I mean. Sorry, I just can’t. We aren’t allowed.” You glance towards the clock on your dash. At this rate your break is going to be over before you finish eating. 

He jiggles the door handle again, as if he can convince the metal to bend and unlatch itself with just his sexiness alone. “You like rules, don’t ya?”

He’s got you there, you do enjoy following the rules. You nod and hum a noise in agreement. 

“Unlock the door, please,” his voice has changed, he’s being more commanding now. A deeper, huskier sound leaving his lips. The sound seems to latch onto something deep in your mind, strong fingers wrapping around the control center of your brain, guiding you to do his bidding. You blink the feeling away. 

“Mister-,” his eyes flash with darkness, “Sorry. I can’t. It wouldn’t be right to eat in your house, plus my break is almost over.”

Joel releases your door handle, raising his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose and lets out a breath, as he drops his hand back to the top of your vehicle an amused smirk flashes across his face. “Do you consider yourself to work in customer service?”

“Yes,” you say nervously.

“And isn’t the main rule of customer service that the customer is always right?” His lips form a tight line and a deep dimple carves into one of his tanned cheeks. Your brain flashes back to one of the videos you watched last night, a man sucking on a woman's nipples as he rubbed her clit, her arms and legs strapped to a padded table. He had a dimple, but he had nothing on Joel. 

“Yes,” you croak and then clear your throat gently, shifting in your seat at the fire building behind that bundle of nerves between your thighs. 

“Then unlock the door, darlin’ and eat inside.” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, turning and walking towards the house. He stops on the front step, opening the large glass front door. You follow, flip flops slapping on the concrete, carrying your powdered chicken noodle soup and plastic spoon up towards his fancy home. When you reach the threshold, he holds out his large hand palm up and you place the old, stained tupperware with your half eaten soup into it. He looks down at it and then back at you, eyes trailing along your body and it feels like he’s running a torch over you. “Is this all you have to eat?”

You nod, giving him a tight lipped smile. 

He cocks his head towards the kitchen and one pushed back curl that’s laced with a few greys falls into his eyes with the movement. In order to stop from pushing his loose curl back you squeeze your fists gently and head towards the stool you sat on yesterday. As your flip flop hits the tile you stop and look back towards your car nervously. “I, umm, I forgot my shoes.”

His large, warm palm comes to your lower back and he pushes you gently towards the kitchen. You sit as he transfers your soup into a matte black bowl and places it in the microwave. He opens a cupboard and pulls out a loaf of fresh bread, as you go to protest he flicks his eyes up to yours and something about the expression on his face tells you not to argue with him. He pops the two carefully cut pieces into the toaster. He breezes effortlessly around the kitchen for someone so broad and masculine. You didn’t realize someone making toast could be so sexy. The microwave beeps and he grabs a gold spoon from a drawer before wandering around the island, placing them both in front of you. His arm brushes yours as he pulls away and your heart flutters at his touch. He walks back around the kitchen island and grabs a glass. 

“Still or sparkling?” He says as if that’s just a normal question to ask when you get someone a glass of water. Just another thing that proves you don’t belong here. The toaster pops and you jump a little. He chuckles as he grabs the toast, slathering it with butter. “Still or sparkling, darlin’?” 

You breath hitches, he’s called you darlin’ twice now. Is that just that southern charm you hear about so often, or is it more? You shake the thought from your head, there’s no way someone like him is interested in someone like you. “Still is fine, you don’t have to trouble yourself.” 

You take a spoonful of soup, blowing on it gently before putting the spoon in your mouth. Joel is watching you in the same way he was yesterday. Assessing. Observing. Calculating. It feels like he’s looking into your very soul. He slides the plate of toast and then a glass of sparkling water over to you from across the island.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “You didn’t -”

He holds his hand up, stopping you in the same way he did yesterday. “I wanted to.”

You feel your cheeks redden and you have to look away as you take a bite of toast. He’s too handsome standing in the kitchen with the afternoon sun highlighting his features. He’s wearing a black dress shirt today, the top few buttons undone, accentuating the perfectly groomed salt and pepper hair on his chest. You swallow your bite of warm, salty, buttery toast, allowing your eyes to flutter closed at the delectable flavour, holding back a moan. 

Joel clears his throat and crosses his arms across his broad chest, “So how did ya get into cleanin’ houses?”

You look up at him through your lashes. Why is he being so nice to you and taking care of you? He apologized yesterday. And after you told him it was fine he left you a massive tip. He said he wants to do this, but why? He’s rich and handsome and you can probably safely assume that that icy blonde from yesterday was his girlfriend. Unless…could she possibly be a mistress? You decide that that must be it. She’s his mistress. He has a wife. He’s just like every other rich man, cheating on his beautiful and age appropriate wife with someone much much younger than him. He’s probably terrified that you might find out who his wife is and tell her. That tip was hush money.

“I’m saving money,” you say and then shake your head, willing the thoughts in your mind to calm down. “For law school.”

“That right?” He says, raising an eyebrow at you as you take another spoonful of soup.

“Yes, I want to be a lawyer. I graduated a semester early and needed some money before going back to university. Assuming I even get accepted. This job meant I could work part time so I could study to take the LSAT again and also make good money.” You take another bite of the toast, mainly to make yourself shut up. 

He watches you the entire time, nodding along, his eyes constantly assessing. “Take the LSAT again?” he asks.

“I passed it already and applied to schools but I haven’t heard back yet. Law school is pretty competitive, so I’m going to take it again and hopefully have a better mark for the next round of college applications.” You’re talking too much, you need to shut up and just eat, but Joel doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away. No one has ever listened to you like that, not even your parents.

“Next round?” He asks curiously. 

You feel your cheeks redden. You don’t want to admit to this obviously successful man in front of you that you probably won’t get accepted to any of the eight universities you applied to. “Yes. It’s competitive, and I probably won’t get in. So I’m preparing to be better the second time.”

“Where did you apply? If that’s not too forward of a question.”

“No, not too forward. Umm, a few places. Strength in numbers, I guess. Harvard, Yale, Columbia, Berkeley, Duke, University of Toronto, but I don’t think I’d survive a Canadian winter. I also applied at Notre Dame and University of Texas here in Austin.”

Joel laughs at you mentioning the Canadian winter and once you’re quiet, he looks down at his expensive dress shoes, “I, umm, I know some higher ups at UT Austin if you need me to put in a good word.”

You smile at him when he looks back up at you, “I don’t think that’s quite how it works, Joel. But thank you.”

The two of you are silent for a moment while you finish your first piece of toast. You glance up at him and he’s looking at you with that same hint of pride he had yesterday while you drank your water. He’s making you feel like eating toast is something to be proud of. You can’t explain it but his facial expression wraps around like a corset. Pulling its metaphoric laces and making you sit up taller, holding your head up higher. With just the shimmer in his deep brown eyes you feel like you could take on the world. You need to break the silence so you say, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he says, leaning back to rest on the countertop behind him. His arms uncross, his strong hands wrapping around the countertop on each side of his body. 

“What do you do for a living? To have all this?” You gesture around the house as you sip your sparkling water.

“A few things. I used to own a construction company, sold it a few years ago to retire but I got bored pretty quickly. Now I own a few properties, I rent them out.” You nod as you listen to him, eating your lunch. One hand rubs at his patchy, salt and pepper beard nervously before saying, “I also own a club.”

You let out a little giggle into your water glass, immediately praying that he doesn’t think that was you being rude. Of all the professions that could have come out of his mouth, owning a nightclub was the last thing you expected. Joel smiles at the sweet melodic sound leaving your lips and relief washes over you. “Why’s that so funny?” His voice is light at his inquiry. 

“It’s not,” you say after swallowing your water. He furrows his brows at you. “You just - I mean, I guess I don’t know you, but don’t seem like the nightclub type.”

“You’re right, you don’t know me. But you’re also right that I am not a nightclub type,” he states. Something about the way he says it makes you sense that that’s as far as you’re going to get with it, but you also realize that the club is probably how this man meets young women to bring home.

You put your spoon down and place your hands in your lap. “Can I umm, ask you something else?”

“Of course,” he repeats. 

“What’s with that little dinosaur toy on your coffee maker?”

He smiles and reaches over to grab it, rubbing his thumb along the faded and scuffed brown paint of the little toy. He looks down at it and a hint of sadness seems to fill his coffee and amber eyes as he looks at you. “My daughter, she umm, she got it for me from the prize box in Kindergarten after her mom -” he stops mid sentence, sadness lining his features. Joel’s not married, you roll your eyes at yourself internally for thinking the worst of him. And truthfully, you of all people know he’s not married. You clean his house, you’ve been in his bedroom, and there are no women's clothes. You’ve also been in all the spare bedrooms and there’s no chance another person lives here with him. He continues, choosing his words almost carefully, “Well, just after she was gone.”

“I’m sorry, Mister,” his eyes flash onyx for just a second, he looks lethally sexy and you swallow your words before starting again. “I’m sorry, Joel.”

“It was a long time ago,” he says, placing the dinosaur back. He runs his fingers through his salt and pepper curls, letting out a little sigh. There’s a shift in him, like suddenly the world is heavier. He tries not to let it show, and maybe most people wouldn’t notice, but you see it. The slight fall in his face, a little slump in the shoulders, a breath held for just a second too long. He clears his throat gently and says, “I’ll be in my office. Eat your lunch for me, please.”

Joel

Joel closes the door of his office and rests his forehead against the smooth wooden surface. He can’t remember how much he spent on these doors when he built the house, but he would set any door that separated him from you on fire if he had to. 

Get it together, Joel.

He closes his eyes and only sees you. The way your glossy, pink lips formed a little O as you blew on your soup. The way the gold plated metal spoon slid softly along your tongue. His cock twitches in his pants and he feels the urge to throw all the spoons in his house away. 

Great, you’re jealous of a spoon. 

He shouldn’t be home. He signed a contract, and more importantly, you signed a contract. In order to protect him and you there is to be no contact between the cleaner and the client. That’s what you consented to when you took your job at Maid Discreetly, and now he’s caused you to break that contract not once, but twice. But he cannot seem to get you out of his mind, and as he sat in a meeting at his club he couldn’t focus. You were here, cleaning his home in that form fitting white polo shirt and those black pants that hugged at your hips in all the right places, and he just had to know if you were as beautiful as he remembered. Just a quick peek, he convinced himself as he made up some bullshit excuse to leave. 

When he saw you sitting in your rusty SUV you looked so innocent and pure, you were more than beautiful. The afternoon sun lighting up your high cheekbones and slender, slightly upturned nose, it gave you an almost angelic glow that temporarily took his breath away. If he had to describe you in two words he would say that you were simply ravishing. For the first time in almost thirty years he wished he still had the calming comfort of that black felt cowboy hat. But that soft Stetson went with her because she loved it so much. 

As he caught his breath and looked at you from his garage, he was overcome with an urge to bruise and corrupt you. He’s a bad man for the thoughts he's been having about you. He can’t help himself, but even in his most twisted of fantasies, he’d never do anything you didn’t want him to. But, fuck, he’s sure he could mold you into exactly what he wants in a submissive. 

Joel isn’t new to the world of kink; he’s had many subs, all of whom have referred to him as Mister Miller. However, his name has never sounded so fucking sweet as it did coming off your lips. Those two little words leaving your pouty, pink lips feel like that first sip of whiskey after a long day, and it might kill him if he doesn’t make you his. 

He sighs into the white wood of the door before standing and walking to sit behind his desk. He drops into the soft leather chair and lets his head fall back onto the headrest and closes his eyes. What is it about you? Why can’t he stop thinking about you? You’re way too young. Way too sweet. Way too…sinless. And even though he can’t explain it, and he knows you don’t know it, you’re way too “exactly-what-is-going-to-ruin-his-entire-life”. 

You’re not someone he can just play with. No, he’s good at reading people, and you’re the kind of person that deserves being invested into. You’re also not someone who is going to stick around. You have dreams and well laid out plans on how you’re going to achieve them. He can’t cage you in, he’ll have to let you spread your wings and fly no matter how much he sees himself as the man he used to be reflected back in your eyes.  

He opens his eyes and pictures you kneeling in the corner, perfectly manicured hands that he pays for you to have done weekly folded on your lap as he works. He imagines calling you over with a curl of his fingers, you crawling across the plush carpet and resting your head on his lap as he responds to emails, takes calls, or plans events. He could reach down and run his fingers through your soft, silky hair as you nuzzled deeper into his lap with your cheek. “My perfect, sweet girl,” he’d hum.  

His body falls forward, forehead hitting the sturdy wooden desk with a thump. Jesus Christ, Joel. 

It was one thing when he only found you beautiful - he could live with being attracted to you, he could find a way around it or stuff that attraction down, maybe he’d find a new sub to distract himself with. That would be easy for him, but then you had to open your mouth, you had to speak so passionately about your future. Why couldn’t you just be pretty like all the other women he plays with? You might be one of the most driven people he knows: the way you push yourself, already planning for the next “no”. And that kills him, ruins him really that you are programmed to think there will automatically be a “no” and that you’ll have to endure another round of LSAT’s and college applications. You’re smart, and he wants to kill whoever made you feel like you need to push yourself this hard. 

His phone vibrates in his pocket; annoyance courses through his body until he sees his brother's name across the pristine screen of his newest iPhone Max. 

“Ya?” He says harshly. 

“Everything ok with the alarm?” 

Joel’s mind goes blank, “What?” 

Tommy is silent for a second before he responds slowly, “The alarm? You left in the middle of a meeting because of an alarm.” 

Joel shakes his head. Right, the alarm. The bullshit excuse he made up so he could leave to see you. “Ya, right. Ya, it’s fine. Got it all, umm, all fixed up. Should be back soon.”

“You ok, brother?” Tommy asks suspiciously. “You seemed, I dunno, distracted today.” 

“I’m fine,” Joel snaps. 

“Alright. Well, come back soon, pretty big night here and we need ya.” 

Joel hangs up without saying goodbye. He’s the owner, he knows it’s a big night, but he’s sort of busy having an existential crisis over possibly being in love with his house cleaner. Whoa, in love? Pump the fucking brakes. Joel’s heart stops beating for a second at the thought of it. He can’t possibly be in love; he doesn’t fall in love. No, he decides, it’s just because she’s new, and exactly my type, and it’s been a long time since I found someone that’s my type.

Just as he stands from his desk, he hears the hose outside turn on. You must be at the pool furniture part of your list. He takes this moment to sneak out of his own house, because he’s a weak man when it comes to you, apparently. He slips into the Italian leather front seat and lets the new car smell waft over him; he loves the smells of a new sports car and has never owned one long enough for it to stop smelling that way. It’s a matter of status to him. He takes a good hard look at himself in the rear view mirror. That’s enough now. For both of your sakes. Leave her alone. 

You 

After spraying down the pool furniture you rush inside to warm up. Seriously, who needs their pool stuff cleaned in the fucking winter? As you jog up the stairs to grab Joel’s freshly laundered sheets, you blow into your cupped palms. The warmth spreads from your frozen fingertips to your palms. Joel’s office is empty; he must have left while you were outside. Your brain swirls with unanswered questions as you pull the fitted sheet back onto his king size bed. Why would he come home? First of all, he knows you’re here this time and second of all, he knows he’s not supposed to be here. So why? And then there’s his calculating stare, always watching and usually with a flash of pride in his features. Did he come back here just to talk to you? Maybe even to get to know you? 

It’s safe to say that you’re more confused than ever, and you make a mental schedule of studying and reading to keep you busy later tonight so you won’t spend hours trying to google him again.

It takes way too much effort, and a silent promise to yourself to get back to the gym, but you manage to wrestle the oversized duvet back into its cover just as three o’clock rolls around. You jog down the wide, open staircase and your phone bings in your back pocket. Jamie’s name is splayed across your cracked screen, the sunset from your last trip to California shining back at you. 

What are you doing tonight? Want to make a bunch of money serving drinks topless?

You laugh to yourself. Truthfully, nothing Jamie asks you seems to surprise you, and some sort of odd job where you’re topless or in a sexy outfit is practically a guarantee as a condition of your friendship. As you reach for the black envelope on the kitchen island you text back. 

What?

You barely have the thick parchment of the envelope open when she responds, like she already had the text locked and loaded and was just waiting for you to try to fight her on it.  

Remember Laren? My cousin? She has a topless catering company and needs help tonight. It’s at some exclusive VIP poker game downtown. 4 hours, $300 + tips.

You respond as a thousand dollars falls out of the tip envelope. 

I’m in.

Jamie picks you up a few hours later and parks her blacked out Range Rover in the alleyway behind a shiny black building in the heart of downtown. You’re once again surrounded by wealth and success thanks to Jamie. The dress code tonight is a black pencil skirt, black heels, your tits, and a bow tie that Laren will give you. Speaking of whom, Laren is holding open a staff door for you and Jamie with her hip, waving the two of you into the warmth of the building. She pulls you both into a big hug, “Thank fuck! You two saved my ass tonight. Gotta love having friends and family with great tits!”

“You’re so weird,” Jamie says, brushing past her and into the building. You follow her in before Laren ushers you towards a service elevator. 

“They’ve already started, you’re part of the second shift. I think the first set of girls made about four hundred each in tips, helps if you serve the guys that are winning though. The first round of games is almost over, winners move on soon.”

“How were their tits though? As great as ours?” You joke. Underneath the calm and collected mask you’re wearing you are definitely nervous. All these strange men are going to see you half naked, you know nothing about poker or serving drinks. Your two friends laugh as the elevator opens to a small changing room. Girls from the first shift are putting their tops back on, handing the bow ties back to Laren who gives them to you and Jamie. 

She cocks her head towards a swinging door, “Just through there when you’re done. Go to the bartender for a tray and table assignment. Two girls per table and only six seats so it should be pretty easy. Make sure you smile!”

“Yes, ma’am,” you and Jamie say teasingly as you strip off your tops and bras. She flips you the middle finger as she heads back out to the poker game to supervise. The cool air of the room stiffens your nipples, nerves fluttering behind your navel as you put the bow tie on.

You overhear the girls that are leaving talking about the men, “Did you see the one with the curly hair at the table by the bar?”, one says. 

The other responds, “He was so fucking hot. Total daddy, I think he owns this place.” 

A third pipes up with, “Fuck, I should have flirted more. I could use a sugar daddy.” 

As they walk towards the elevator the first girl says, “Did you know that this is a sex club? Too bad we can’t go explore the rest.” They giggle as they leave and you take a steadying breath. You’re going to be topless, in a sex club. 

“Ready?” Jamie asks, adjusting her bowtie around her slender neck. 

“Did you know this is a sex club?”

She laughs, “Ya, it’s like an exclusive kink club apparently. Laren said it’s owned by two brothers who are insanely hot. Maybe I should see if they need a maid.” She winks at you as you both walk towards the swinging door. 

You step into the dimly lit room and find the bar directly across from you. After rolling your shoulders back and down, you cross the dark hardwood floor to the bar. Everything in the room is black or deep forest green. Black paint covers the walls, your heels click against the sturdy black wooden floors, even the poker tables and chairs are black. A pop of deep green velvet only along the seats and table tops. It looks soft, like one of those fuzzy blankets you have on your couch and you fight the urge to run your hand across one of the empty tables as you pass. 

The bartender hands Jamie a tray first and then quietly tells her to go to the table in the far right corner. She sways her hips like the sultry goddess she is as she walks to the table. Relief floods through you when you notice that none of the men have raised their eyes, they’re focused intently on the card game. This isn’t some sleazy club like you initially thought when you heard ‘sex club’ leave the lips of the other servers. You relax a little at being able to just be yourself tonight, maybe a bit more naked than you’d usually be but yourself nonetheless. 

You take the black marble serving tray as the bartender points to the table closest to the bar. The curly hair man that the women were talking about in the change room faces away from you. Your heart leaps in your chest. Joel. As you approach the other server standing behind the table, he starts to turn his head. Time stops, your heart speeds up, and it starts to feel simultaneously too hot and too cold in the room all at the same time. It’s almost as if he’s turning his head in slow motion. As you catch his side profile he has the same hooked nose, in the dim light of the room you can’t see any greys along his temples and he doesn’t appear to have a beard. After what feels like an hour, his eyes finally meet yours and you let out a breath, although you aren’t sure if it’s disappointment or relief leaving your lungs. It’s not Joel Miller.

“Mind bringin’ me another Macallan neat, sweetheart?” His eyes stay locked on yours as he smiles at you sweetly. He holds the crystal glass out for you and you take it with a soft ‘yes, sir.’

Something about those eyes, and the way they flash darkly at being called sir, feels all too familiar. In the time it takes for you to take the six or seven steps to the bar you convince yourself that it’s just your brain seeing him everywhere. You tell yourself that when you bring this drink back he’ll look nothing like the man you caught knuckles deep in a woman as she cried out, nothing like the man who was so gentle and sweet, yet slightly bossy and commanding with you this afternoon. 

That’s definitely it, you say to yourself with finality. You’re just cock drunk over a cock you’ll never have. 

The bartender pops the whiskey open and the hair on the back of your neck stands up, you can feel someone looking at you. Almost feel their stare heating the right side of your body. It feels as if all of your exposed skin is being covered by the gaze of whomever is looking at you, shielding you protectively from the view of the other men. The bartender's eyes flick to the corner of the room and then back to you while he hands you the drink. The shift of his gaze confirms that you weren’t imagining it, there is someone looking at you. You place the whiskey on your tray and spin cautiously to the right, stopping dead in your tracks when you lock eyes with Joel Miller. He looks dangerous, sitting at a low table along the wall, his face just barely illuminated by a single candle on the dark wooden table top. His fingers are laced together, forearms of his black dress shirt resting on the knees of his black dress pants. His lips are pressed in a thin, disapproving line. 

He stalks over to you and you wish your tray was empty so you could shield your tits from him. The way he moves is almost menacing, like a jaguar stalking his prey, his eyes are almost black in the low light of the room. Your nipples stiffen under his intense gaze, your mouth fills with saliva and you gulp loudly. You stand frozen, the whiskey for that man you had convinced yourself isn’t related to Joel forgotten about on your tray. He plucks the drink off the marble slab, the glass looking like one of those disposable paper cups you have in your bathroom in his hand. He takes two long strides and drops the glass beside the man. 

“Thanks,” he starts to coo, a ten dollar bill clasped between two fingers. After realizing it’s not you, he adds a confused, “Brother?” 

He tries to pull the money back, but Joel is quicker. Snatching it from his brother's grasp and tucking it into the breast pocket of his dress shirt. Joel turns back to you and steps in closely, your lower back hitting the cold marble bartop and you gasp, arching your back and naked breasts towards Joel. His jaw flexes as he fights to keep his eyes level with yours. 

“What are you doin’ here?” he says in a harsh whisper. 

“I’m working,” it comes out a lot more bratty and defiant than you intend it to. 

“Not here you ain’t.”

You take a small step forward, your hard nipples lightly grazing the soft fabric of his black dress shirt. “I’m not leaving.” 

His hand circles your bicep and you twist out of his grasp. “You’re makin’ a scene, darlin’.” 

“You are, Joel. I’m just trying to make money.” He grabs you more firmly this time, not tight enough to hurt you but enough for you to know he means business. 

What’s his problem anyway? He doesn’t own you. What you do outside his home is none of his business. He can boss you around via an app every other week, but that’s it. That’s where it ends. You glance desperately over at Jamie to find her back to you as she speaks softly with a man who’s waiting for the next round of poker. Her hand grazes his bicep flirtatiously, she makes it look too easy to get what she wants from men. Joel guides you towards the staff changing room, keeping your body in the dark edges of the room. He’s breathing heavily through his nose, like an angry dragon and you’re honestly surprised smoke isn’t billowing out of his nostrils. 

In the bright lights of the changing room you feel more exposed than ever. You want to lift your tray, but in order to prove to him that you don’t care what he or anyone thinks you don’t. In fact, you stand up taller, holding your head high and pushing your chest out. It’s infinitesimal but he looks down just for a nano second. You smirk when his eyes come back to you. 

“Put a shirt on.” 

“If none of the other girls have to put a shirt on then neither do I.” You pop your hip out and pull your arm free from his large calloused hand and rest it on your hip. 

“Don’t fight me on this.” 

“I’m not fighting. You are. So all those other girls are fine, but I’m not? Why? My tits aren’t big enough for you?” 

“That’s not,” he pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a breath with his eyes closed. When he reopens them his eyes land softly on yours. “I just need you not to be here. Please.” 

Bright red anger sparks along the sides of your eyes. Seriously, who does he think he is? “You aren’t the boss here, Mister Miller.” 

“Do NOT call me that.” His neck flushes the same colour as your vision. You stand your ground, eyes narrowing into glaring slits. What is his aversion to being called Mister Miller, and why does it turn you on a little bit to rile him up when you use it?

“You aren’t my boss or my dad, Joel. You can’t make me leave or tell me what jobs I can or can’t take.” You’ve figuratively dug your heels in, you aren’t leaving. He can’t make you. Only Laren or whoever owns this sex club can ask that of you. “You can’t kick me out like you own the place.” 

“Actually,” he says darkly, “I can.” 

“What?” You say through a nervous breath, eyes widening. 

“I own the place. So I can kick you out, and I am kicking you out. Get your shirt.” 

Your shoulders fall slightly. You feel about two feet tall with the realization that he doesn’t want you here. This afternoon you thought that maybe he cared, he seemed like he cared, and now you’re half naked and he wants you to leave. He watches as you unclasp your bow tie and slide on your bra and shirt. 

You look over at Jamie’s clothes and it dawns on you that you didn’t drive here. Your face falls as you blink around the room and then towards Joel. 

“What’s wrong?” he says through thick concern.

“Nothing. I just…” 

He steps towards you, he’s so broad, his presence so large that you start to feel almost claustrophobic when he’s this close, but you never want him to step away. You’d happily let him smother you with his innate Joel-ness. “You just what?”

“I didn’t drive here,” you say quietly, looking down at your hands. Your left thumb nail immediately finds purchase along the cuticle of your right thumb. 

His strong palm cups your chin, lifting until he’s looking at you again. You’re becoming more and more used to the amount of eye contact Joel seems to make. He seems constantly dialed in on you when you’re in the same room.

Yes, I would be very happy to let him smother me. 

The harsh lines of his face soften, “I can get you a car. They’ll meet you at the staff door.” 

You nod into his hand and find it exceedingly hard to stay mad at him when he looks at you that way. He drops your chin and turns his large, broad body back towards the swinging door. He looks over his shoulder and says, “I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me.” His voice is soft and sad, almost as if he’s full of remorse and just hoping you won’t hate him before heading back into the poker game. Any bit of anger is flushed from your system, replaced with the disappointment of having to leave wherever Joel is.  

You drag your feet to the elevator and then towards the staff exit. You let the heavy door close behind you with a loud bang as a blacked out SUV pulls up. The driver says your first and last name as he opens the back door for you. You look towards the black building one last time. 

“I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me.” 

JMKink is written in shiny metallic black on the door and all the information of the evening hits you at once. JMK. Joel Miller Kink. Joel Miller, insanely handsome millionaire, owns a sex club.

Follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates and turn on notifications for future chapters and other work.

[hawkinsbnbg]

nightingales

Written for @steddieangstyaugust Day 13: "Please, stay."

tags: mutual pining, mildly dub-con, slight daddy kink (1 word), hurt/comfort, hookups to lovers, idiots in love, post ss2/post starcourt

rated: M | words: 3k | ao3

"Please stay."

That halted Eddie's movements briefly. Only briefly. And then he resumed zipping up his flies and buckling his belt as if nothing had been said.

Eddie's heart trembled in his chest, begging him to obey the voice of his Adonis, but he resisted. Because he had gone into this with his eyes wide open and head cleared of any delusional thoughts.

He knew his place, knew how to get his job done, knew what parts to hide safely away from prying eyes and protruding ears, knew just the way to make every night worth the time.

And knew he wouldn't find real love in one Steve Harrington—the town's sweetheart and golden boy—however lovely their rendezvouses had been so far.

"You're drunk, Harrington," he dared a look over his shoulder, sighing when he found the bane of his existence was already snoring softly.

Unable to help himself, Eddie cursed under his breath and stepped over to the bed once more to tuck Steve under the blanket neatly, safe and sound, and lingered for a bit to admire how young and carefree Steve looked while asleep.

Mouth slacked, eyes closed peacefully, features softened from all the edges, so unlike the bone-deep exhaustion that clouded those pretty hazels with gloomy shadows.

At least, after their little arrangement started, Steve seemed to have benefited from it judging by the lack of his heavy eye bags.

Two months ago, Steve had come asking for something to help him sleep and somehow left with a bag of weed after blowing Eddie's brain out.

It was so surreal that Eddie thought he had hallucinated the whole thing while high off his ass.

Except, Steve kept seeking him out, going from paying for drugs with intense blowjobs to something more, something Eddie could give him without affecting the Munson household's finances.

Since then, Steve would wait for him at the Harrington's residence considering it was easier and safer that way, and Eddie would do his best to pound Steve so good he would conk out by the time they were done.

And yet, more often than not, Steve would already have taken a few swigs from daddy dearest's pricey liquors and would be quite tipsy by the time Eddie arrived.

Not that Eddie hated it. He was obsessed with a tipsy Steve actually. Because tipsy Steve was always sweeter, more open and pliant with everything Eddie gave him, more expressive and vocal in a way that made Eddie weak on the knees.

Then again, tipsy Steve also got quite a loose mouth.

He asked for things Eddie would be dying to give him, he said things that were too good to be true, he sang Eddie's name like prayers, and he always begged Eddie to stay.

None of that helped Eddie's stupid heart to stay at bay at all. Because the moment Steve's pretty mouth pressed on his ear and whispered "Daddy", he was a goner.

Nonetheless, Eddie hadn't survived to this day to not being aware of how dangerous Steve Harrington was.

A rich straight boy who was curious about the world around himself. Who would stamp on Eddie's heart once he got bored and decided to move on. Who would leave Eddie behind to go get a perfect family with a beautiful wife, two kids and a half, and a white-picket-fenced house.

It didn't take Eddie long to make up his mind.

He looked at Steve once more before turning on his heels to leave the room, somehow feeling less hollow and cold after two months of witnessing them together.

So long as Steve needed him, he would be there. And Eddie would make himself sacred when the time came.

———

"Stay the night?"

Eddie glanced up from the task in his hands—wiping Steve down with a warm washcloth—and smiled humorlessly.

"You know I can't, Harrington."

"Why, though?" Steve asked softly, eyes still hazy and bottom lip jutting out petulantly.

"My uncle will worry sick if I stay overnight outside," Eddie offered a half-truth considering Wayne had stopped giving him curfews since he started dealing.

"I'm flattered you wanna keep me in your chamber, princess," he leaned forward to press a kiss on Steve's forehead. "But I gotta go."

For a fleeting moment, Steve seemed sobered up enough to regard him with an unreadable look, like he could see right through Eddie's lie.

But the moment just passed as quickly as it came when Steve let out a teary yawn that shouldn't be as endearing as it was.

"Good night," Eddie whispered as he pulled the blanket up to cover his sleepy boy.

"G'night," Steve smiled, small and sweet, and was off to dreamland within seconds, leaving Eddie sitting by his side and gazing at him longingly.

———

When Steve wasn't drunk, he would be more tense and on guard, which Eddie could completely understand given their circumstances.

What Eddie couldn't understand, though, was that Steve still asked him to stay.

"I, uhm, have nightmares," Steve averted his eyes, he did that a lot lately, like he was afraid Eddie would figure out the secret in them if he looked too long. "It'll help to have someone hold me while I sleep."

It was so sly of him to use that card on Eddie, knowing full well how much of a bleeding heart Eddie was.

Therefore, Eddie knew the decision had been made for him even before he opened his mouth.

"Alright, I'll stay, but only 'til you fall asleep."

It was the right and wrong thing to say.

Eddie realized with great displeasure that he didn't like the way Steve's eyes dimmed right after having brightened up just seconds ago.

When Eddie left that night, he tried to not think about the disappointment on Steve's face when the younger boy woke up to his cold side of the bed in the morning.

(He failed.)

———

Steve didn't ask him to stay anymore.

And Eddie pretended that it didn't crush his heart just a bit when Steve refused to receive the aftercare.

In response, Eddie simply fucked him harder for that so he wouldn't have any strength left to protest by the end of it.

It was worth all the glares and pouts Steve shot his way when he just gave up on the charade after a while and let Eddie take care of him again.

"Stay, please?"

It was said so quietly, and if Eddie wasn't always paying attention to Steve, he wouldn't be able to catch it at all.

Eddie swallowed dryly, wanting nothing more than to return to Steve's side and scoop him in a cuddle until they both drifted off in each other's arms.

But reality was always cruel. And Eddie had learned that the hard way. He couldn't afford to make mistakes now when everything had been going smoothly so far. Especially when his traitorous heart was constantly on the verge of running away from him.

"I can't–"

"Sorry," Steve let out a sigh. "Just... Just forget about it."

When Eddie finished dressing, he turned to look at Steve and was greeted by a sun-kissed back.

He squashed the urge to come closer and run his fingers on it, mapping out the constellations and tracing love lyrics with his lips on those moles and freckles.

Instead, he walked over to the door and saw himself out.

"Have a sweet dream, Stevie."

He lingered a bit, only leaving once he was sure Steve had fallen asleep.

———

They didn't meet quite often anymore. Steve was busy with his summer job and Eddie was well... hung up on the what-ifs.

What if Steve was also a trailer kid? What if Eddie wasn't a drug dealer? What if they both came from normal families that loved and accepted them for who they were? What if then?

Eddie liked to think they would always meet each other at some point in their lives no matter what the circumstances. Eddie liked to think they were star-crossed lovers who couldn't get together because of the period they were living in. Eddie liked to think Steve also loved him back.

And yet, Eddie had seen Steve flirt with endless girls at Scoop Ahoy, making eyes with some guys who looked like college jocks, who could guarantee him a good time once he dropped Eddie like a sack of potatoes.

Eddie had stood on the sideline and watched with burning, acidic jealousy as Steve threw his charm carelessly at everything that could breathe and walk on two legs.

When Steve turned to look at him with that same charming smile, Eddie realized it was time for him to wake up from his dream.

And so he did.

———

"Can you come tonight, Eddie?"

"Sorry, man, I've gotta sell all of this new stuff by the end of tonight 'cause the bills are due next week, ya know?"

"'S okay. Uhm, see you later?"

"See you later."

———

"Are you busy tonight?"

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that. I have band practice until midnight. And Wayne will be home by the time I'm done. So..."

"Yeah, I got it."

"Uh-huh."

"Rain check?"

"Rain check."

———

Eddie turned up the volume of his music until it drowned out the ringing of the phone.

———

Eddie bit his nails, watching Steve's beamer park outside the Mayfield's trailer, watching him talking and laughing with that red-haired little girl, watching him finally get back into the car and drive away once the sun set.

He didn't know if he should feel relieved or disappointed when Steve never looked at the Munson Trailer once.

———

Eddie jolted up by the sharp knocks on the trailer's door. A quick glance at the clock told him it was only two am, too early for the police's raid and too late for his customers to linger outside.

There was only one answer to that and he hoped Franklin would be cowed away by a broken beer bottle just like the other night.

Stumbling out of his bed and pulling up his jeans hastily, he blearily thanked his lucky star that Wayne wasn't home yet.

Because for all the patience the older man had, he didn't doubt Wayne would pull the shotgun on Franklin and well, Eddie wouldn't be sorry for the drunken bastard but he didn't want Wayne to get involved in his mess too much.

On his way, Eddie picked up his weapon from under the couch as he passed by it and marched straight to the door.

When he threw it open, scowling and ready to swing at his enemy, he was greeted by not Franklin but Steve Harrington instead.

Eddie faltered, feeling sick with worry and cold dread as he took in the sight of the younger boy.

"Jesus Christ," he dropped the bottle, ignoring the clang! it made on the floor, to hover his hands over Steve's face. "What the fuck had happened to you, Harrington?"

Steve honest-to-god giggled.

"S'not important anymore," he slurred and swayed on his feet, eyes swollen in purple and red, face caked in blood and bruises and scratches. He was a bloody mess.

Eddie pulled him inside as gently as possible, trying to stay level-headed for both Steve and himself because it wouldn't do either of them any good if he panicked now.

Carefully, Eddie guided Steve to the couch, flipping on just the lamp on the side table, knowing from experience that too much light would cause discomfort to someone who had just got beaten to a pulp.

He poured Steve a glass of water, watching him drink it slowly before getting up to retrieve the quick aid kit, clean towel, and wash his hands thoroughly with soap in the bathroom.

Once he was done cleaning the cuts on Steve's face, he applied some antiseptic cream on the injured areas—which didn't look that bad after the blood was gone.

During the whole time, Steve remained oddly silent, eyes slightly glazed over like being high or in shock, just watching Eddie do all the work and only letting out a few quiet hisses when the cuts burned.

Eddie had apologized plenty for that, wishing he could share half of the pain Steve was feeling at the moment.

Then he asked Steve about the other possible injuries and concussions, not wanting to overlook anything and receiving a simple "Yes" to both questions.

("Christ, we should bring you to the hospital, Stevie."

"No, no hospital. Please."

"... Have you had anyone besides me checked your injuries, yet?"

"Uh, yeah, the paramedics. They cleared me after a bit. 'Cause there's nothing really bad, though.")

"Can I sleep now?" Steve sniffed, sounding small and lost, making Eddie's heart ache terribly.

"Not yet, Bambi," Eddie smiled softly when those pitiful doe eyes looked at him. "We gotta bathe you first, wash away these dirt and grimes before bringing you to bed."

And he wasn't lying, either. Wherever Steve had been all night had soiled his cute sailor uniform and turned him into a real Cinderella.

"C'mon," Eddie guided him up with a hand around his waist while ducked to shoulder one of his arms. "The quicker we do it, the sooner you can get your beauty sleep."

Fortunately, Steve didn't protest and allowed Eddie to half-carry him all the way into the bathroom.

———

Eddie took in a sharp inhale when he got to see the damage beneath Steve's clothes. It was far more severe than he had anticipated and he wondered if the paramedics would've let Steve go had they seen this.

Sighing inwardly, Eddie used a washcloth and gently scrubbed all the mud and blood off Steve's body, shushing the younger boy softly when he whimpered at the stings and dull aches.

Eddie had half a mind to kiss them better, but he reined in his desire to soothe Steve's pain and concentrated on making the shower as short as possible.

By the time they left the bathroom, Steve was trembling minutely but the fog in his eyes had dissipated and he seemed more conscious than when he appeared on the Munson Trailer's front porch.

After putting on one of Eddie's old Metallica tees and a pair of red flannel pants by himself, Steve ran a hand through his dampened hair and gave Eddie a crooked smile.

"Sorry for bothering you this late."

"I wanted to help," Eddie corrected him quickly.

"Of course, I know you would," Steve swallowed, eyes flickering back and forth from Eddie's eyes to his pale tattooed chest. "But I'm still sorry for having turned up without calling ahead. I was lucky enough I didn't ruin your uncle's sleep."

"He'd do the same for you, you know that right?" Eddie raised an eyebrow, chest tight with possessiveness at the sight of Steve wearing his clothes, standing in his bedroom, and smelling of his shampoo.

"Look," Steve spoke up before Eddie could say anything. "I gotta go now."

"No," Eddie reached for Steve's hand and held on it tightly. "You're not going anywhere."

"Why?"

Eddie clicked his tongue in mild annoyance, wanting to know what made Steve think it was wise to sleep without supervision while having a concussion and cracked ribs.

"I'm not letting you go back to your place alone like this."

Steve snorted and rolled his eyes, a hint of King Steve peeking through the veil. He tried to pull his hand back but gave up once he realized Eddie wouldn't let him go.

He settled with a tired sigh instead.

"I don't want your pity, Munson."

"I'm not pitying you."

"So what is this?" Steve hissed as he raised his captured wrist and shook it lightly for emphasis.

Eddie only tightened his grasp further, paranoid that Steve would slip through his fingers like sand.

"It's not pity," Eddie met those hazel eyes, still burning with that same fire he always loved. He brought Steve's hand to his lips, pressing shaky kisses on those bruised knuckles.

He still wanted to run away. But the idea of leaving Steve caused him such unbearable pain that he just knew would break him down if he ever did it again.

"I care for you, Steve," his voice cracked as he confessed quietly, "I care for you a lot."

Steve breathed in sharply, eyes glassy with unshed tears and lips quivered.

"Then why did you never stay?" He asked softly. "Why did you always leave even when I begged you not to?"

Eddie stepped in closer and used his free hand to hold on to Steve's as well.

"'Cause I was scared, sweetheart," he whispered. "Scared of having my heart broken. 'Cause I knew, always do, that I don't deserve pretty things like you. That I can't give you all the good things that you deserve."

"So I'm begging you now," he blinked away his tears and looked at Steve beseechingly.

"You don't have to–"

"Please, stay," he pleaded. "Please give me another chance to show you how much you matter to me. Please trust me to make it right this time. Please."

Steve became worryingly silent at that. But Eddie still waited patiently, knowing it was a lot to take it all at once. Even Eddie himself was reeling from what he just said.

"You ignored my calls."

"I'm sorry."

"You always left although I begged you not to."

"I'm sorry."

"You lied to me."

"I'm sorry."

"You didn't tell me what I did wrong," Steve mumbled, lips wobbling and nose turned pink.

That cut him deep.

"No, sweetheart, no," Eddie tugged him closer and embraced him gently, heart swelling with fondness when Steve melted in his arms.

"You did nothing wrong, baby, it's all my fault," Eddie sniffled, walking them both to his bed carefully. "I'm so sorry for making you think that way."

As Steve let out a wounded noise and started shaking with small sobs, Eddie cried with him and stroked his back soothingly, knowing he would kill and die for this boy in a heartbeat, knowing that he could never not be in love with Steve Harrington.

When they finally settled on the mattress together, Eddie spooned Steve from behind and pressed kisses everywhere he could reach.

Steve giggled quietly, too exhausted to say anything but still leaning into Eddie's warmth all the same.

Eddie knew they still had a lot to discuss to make their newly found relationship really work, but as he listened to Steve's soft snoring, he was certain they would be fine this time.

As long as they were together.

[anifever]

Gang w/ a Sandy!Reader ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The Outsiders x Fem!Reader

୨୧ : HC’s of the gang with a reader whose like Sandy Olsson from Grease

A/N : This doesn’t mean specifically being Australian, blonde, white, blah blah- just her personality and stuff 😭 anyways I watch grease at least once a month

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🎙️ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Darry

୨ He thinks you’re precious

୨ Probably not the type of person he thought he’d end up with, but he doesn’t care

୨ On the contrary, could’ve been a high school sweetheart situation where he played football and you did cheer teehee

୨ Anyways, no matter when he first met you happened to be, he was mainly worried about how you’d handle the boys LMAO

୨ Tells the guys off whenever they tease you about something

୨ You kind of remind him of his mom which is comforting (not in a weird way, go away Sigmund Freud)

୨ That being said, you become somewhat of a mother figure over the group

୨ Ponyboy looks up to you a lot, Johnny loves how nice you are, and Soda thinks talking to you is refreshing

୨ Overall, he’s happy that you also bring them so much comfort

୨ Him wearing a light blue button-up shirt to match one of your lil’ pastel blue dresses 😋😋

୨ Fussing when they all come back from a rumble- you would’ve been extremely against the idea in the first place

୨ Getting sick when you see the blood all over him

୨ Him assuring you he’s fine but still freaking out, but you take a breather and try to help clean him up nonetheless

୨ You’re really good at helping him relax wether it’s massaging his shoulders or cracking a joke to try and lighten the mood

୨ He’s overall really protective over you

୨ If you ever asked to go watch a rumble, which would be unrealistic anyways, he’d immediately refuse and die on that hill

୨ He also really likes that you’re still able to stand your ground and speak your mind

୨ He ALSO likes that you have manners, it’s the bare minimum but it makes him love you more

Two-Bit

୨ Says the NASTIEST stuff to you just to see your reactions

୨ Has definitely pulled the thing he did with Marcia where he playfully offers her tobacco

୨ You were at a party either he or your friend dragged you along to or something and he offered to get you a beer but you said you didn’t drink

୨ He then offered you a cig and you hastily declined and he was just like “You’re real pure, ain’t ya baby?”

୨ Some clip of Elvis performing came on the TV once and you got all flustered/uncomfortable and he got giggly about it

୨ Anyways, his little sister thinks you’re an angel

୨ She’s always talking about your perfectly styled hair, painted nails, pretty outfits, etc

୨ He responds pretty coolly when she does it with a lil’ grin, but he’s so proud of himself on the inside

୨ Imagine having tea parties with her and him just watching from the doorway with a lovey dovey smile ARGGAHAHAGAG

୨ If someone dares to call you stuff like “wet blanket” or a “goody goody” he will be coming for them HARD

୨ The insults would be so creative

୨ He’s probably convinced you to drink just once and you threw up immediately after

୨ Never again.

Steve

୨ Absolutely thought you were a prude at first

୨ Even after he got to know you better, he still teased you about it

୨ One-sided enemies to lovers 😇😇

୨ You coming into the DX and him just mumbling under his breath while Soda rings you up

୨ Then proceeds to gossip about you after you leave; not without you giving them both a big smile and filling the tip jar first

୨ “Ain’t ever seen a girl that cheery. She apparently hasn’t even kissed anybody, y’know that? 🙄” and Soda’s just like “Man, who cares..”

୨ Soda slowly notices how much he talks about you and realizes what’s happening

୨ He brought it up and Steve was like “NUH-UH”

୨ Even with that, it was extremely obvious

୨ He constantly stares at you whenever you come into the store, he sees you at school, or just anywhere in general

୨ Anyways yada yada he finally asked you out after some subtle flirting that slowly became more obvious

୨ EVERYBODY is surprised

୨ An innocent, friendly soc with a greaser mechanic who does backflips off of cars; not a common pairing

୨ If you ever happened to swear ONCE, he’d have a field day

୨ A “damn,” “hell,” or “shit” slips out and it’s like someone died- he’ll never let it go

୨ He’s the type to tease you then get pissed when someone else joins in

୨ He’s “Only I’m allowed to do that” in the flesh

Dallas

୨ Caught off guard at first

୨ Deadass didn’t believe anyone could be as big of a goody-two-shoes as you are

୨ Fs teases you but you slowly grow on him- he sees the innocence as a challenge (not surprising)

୨ Found out you didn’t even have pierced ears and was like ?????

୨ Dare I say he’s a Kenickie variant

୨ Then again, the scene where Danny’s like “I don’t do parents” when Sandy asks him to come over is so him too

୨ Knocked on your window in the middle of the night and saw your nightgown and started chuckling about it, and you then proceeded to try and shut him up because you were horrified of your parents hearing him

୨ Going to Buck’s with him and either staying in his room or just sitting uncomfortably in a corner

୨ You might watch a pool game but all the smoke and alcohol would overwhelm you

୨ Unfortunately, he’s the type to pull the thing Danny did at the drive in, in which you’d ofc react the same way Sandy did

୨ You calling Buck’s car a “sin wagon” would be so accurate

୨ He tries to make it up to you by showing up to your front door (much to your parents dismay..) and giving you his Christopher again along with some flowers that he definitely didn’t pick from some rando’s garden

୨ I’m lying. He did.

୨ He also takes you on a real date afterwards, which is saying something

୨ Like Steve, he’s also the type of person to get mad when another person thinks they can make fun of you

୨ You’re so understanding and forgiving that he’s kinda confused a lot of the time LMAO

୨ Luckily for him, your good reputation probably gets him out of a lot of trouble

Soda

୨ Oh my god he’s so nice about it

୨ He’s head over heels

୨ Obviously he goofs off with the boys, but he’s overall the nicest/most open minded

୨ You two are so smiley all the time and it makes everyone SICK

୨ Gets a kick out of you not understanding sexual jokes or innuendos

୨ You guys look so good together it’s insane

୨ You’re so calming compared to the stress of being in between Darry and Pony’s arguments constantly

୨ He also loves how bubbly and kind you are to everyone because of it

୨ Going to drag races with him simply because he likes them and you like seeing him happy (the scene where Sandy watches Danny race reference⁉️)

୨ He is not the brightest in the head but you’re extremely patient with him

୨ He’s also extremely protective over you

୨ Like imagine you’re visiting him at the DX and some other soc’s come by and start teasing you to his face when you head inside for a second

୨ He proceeds to get one of the hoses off the pump and start spraying them with gas 😋🤍

୨ Before they can get out, he just keeps spraying them in the face or something which makes them drive away

୨ He just laughs to himself and puts the nozzle up as you come back outside and you’re like “???? Babe what happened?” when you see the trail of gas and all he replies with is “Nothing sweetheart!! 🤗”

୨ He knows Steve’s gonna complain about having to help clean up the mess later but it was worth it to him

Johnny

୨ Probably the most chill with it??

୨ He thinks it’s sweet

୨ Also thinks you’re somewhat of a breath of fresh air from the guys, along with soc’s in general too

୨ Definitely thought it was kinda odd you didn’t drink or smoke or anything, but thought it was nice to meet someone who didn’t for a change

୨ You guys take walks through town from time to time and it’s a huge contrast

୨ A denim-clad boy covered in a bunch scars with a preppy looking girl who radiates happiness

୨ You help him get a better outlook on life with how positive you are

୨ Loveslovesloves all the pastel clothes you wear

୨ When he met you for the first time he couldn’t believe how nice you were

୨ Watching a movie either at the drive-in or Curtis house and some form of nude scene coming on, you covering your eyes, and him just grinning at your reaction

୨ Doesn’t hesitate to talk back to Dallas if he says something bad about you

୨ You never try to force him out of his comfort zone or anything and he appreciates that

୨ He said something about “a weed” to Dal and you had no clue what they meant

୨ “Hey Dal, you got a weed?”

୨ “Huh?”

୨ “Uh, I asked if he had a weed.”

୨ “..A what? What’s that mean?”

୨ Dallas chimes in from the bg and is like “Yo.. Johnny, man, is she kiddin’?”

Pony

୨ The main problem he has with it is the fact you don’t smoke and don’t like it in general

୨ He def tries to cut down for you/at least not do it in front of you though

୨ Started when he lit a cigarette while you guys were walking together and you started coughing like a maniac while he was just like 🤨

୨ Since he’s the youngest out of them all, he isn’t super used to hanging out with girls so it doesn’t phase him

୨ He thinks it’s different than most people for sure, but he knows what it’s like to feel that way so he relates

୨ He admires how nice you are to everybody

୨ Especially to greasers

୨ You’re so soft-spoken that it makes him giggle and kick his feet sometimes

୨ You’re a good student so you probably help him with work a lot

୨ Steve probably said something mean about you once and he got all sassy and made a remark to him

୨ “Heard you’re dating some priss now, ‘s that right, Pone?” and he’s like “Why don’t you go stick you and your big nose in someone else’s business if it’s that important?”

୨ Safe to say Steve kept his thoughts on you to himself after that

୨ Another one who thinks the way you dress (and look in general) is gorgeous, he’s left gobsmacked every time he sees you

୨ He’s always admiring you and has probably drawn you at least once

୨ His sass sometimes comes out on you when you don’t know something, but it’s jokingly

[odxrilove]

BIRTHDAY BOY

PAIRING: mingyu x f!reader

GENRE: fluff, friends to lovers, bday party!au? kinda confession!au, uni!au but not really mentionned

WARNINGS: , flirting, swearing, alchohol, drinking, one mention of being high (not yn or seventeen), etc typical party stuff, game of truth or dare, minghao is annoying x1 (jk), yn gets jealous a bit, yn and mingyu are in love ewwww, huge make-out session (borderline smut...) (JKKK. or am i), lots of tension + more?

WC: +8.1k

SYNOPSIS: It’s Mingyu’s birthday party, and Hoshi lets something out under the influence of alcohol. Apparently, you have two gifts prepared for him– completely throwing out the one-gift tradition your friend group strictly follows. However, Hoshi’s a liar — and a bad one at that — but it’s already too late. Even though Mingyu knows he’s supposed to be excited about all the gifts he’s receiving tonight, he’s (not so surprisingly) only interested in everything you’re giving him.

A/N: thank u so so much to sara the loml pookie bear (@4xiaojun) for reading it so many times over the past few months and hyping me up ! i couldnt have finished this fic if it wasnt for u ily bae !!!! &&& rec song - i dont understand but i luv u by seventeen 

FIC TAGLIST: @etherealyoungk @simpforyongbokk @luvhyun3 @nhularin @matchahyuck @graybaeismytae @mark-geolli @esloao @jaklvbub @sukistrawberry @raggedypansexual

back to masterlist !

“Having fun?”

The music is loud, resonating off the walls and making your ears ring. But even if you barely hear your own thoughts over the noise, mingyu’s smooth voice fills your ears.

You change your weight from one foot to another, bringing the red cup to your lips and taking a sip of your drink. The alcohol isn’t cold anymore and you slightly grimace at the way it burns your throat when you decide to empty your cup. You pull the cup away from your mouth, bumping it deliberately against his before crossing your arms and looking up at him.

“Yeah. Even more so now that you’re here.”

His already pretty smile widens and his little vampire teeth appear as he throws his head back to laugh. Your mind is hazy from the alcohol and you’re a bit tipsy, glossy eyes staring at his neck. You always thought mingyu’s skin was so pretty.

Mingyu takes a look around the room before focusing on you again, leaning with his shoulder on the wall next to you. He’s tall and looking down at you, it makes you smile a little.

His heart beats in his chest at the sight of your cherry lips, still wet from the drink. He doesn’t think he’s seen you wearing this lip color before, recounting all the times you came to hangouts wearing anything else than lip balm. The color suits you though, he thinks.

Unconsciously, his eyes wander to your cup before landing on the white plastic rim, the red trace of your lip gloss making him shudder.

The glint in your eyes is mischievous when he makes eye contact with you again. He sees you looking him up and down and he has to yell at his own mind when certain thoughts enter his head. He can sense how you fill up with pride at the sight of him wearing the watch you just gifted him, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“You’re already wearing it?” your body turns to him a bit and he leans down even more at the same time, faces centimeters away from each other. He lifts his hand up with a grin, pushing his shirt sleeves up his arms even more when he notices you eyeing them.

This time, you smile so big Mingyu almost awes at the sight. You force yourself to stop smiling and look away but your happiness can be heard through your slightly playful voice. “The others wouldn’t be happy to hear that, y’know?”

Mingyu wiggles his fingers and flexes his arm, making you giggle and uncross your arms in the process. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s my favorite gift.”

He tilts his head to the side, ruffling his styled hair with his ring-clad hands. Mingyu isn’t much of a ring-wearer but when he does, it fills your stomach with butterflies– not that that doesn’t happen on a daily basis.

“Who said the others have to know?” His stare makes you feel weak, knees almost buckling under you. You lean back on the wall for support, something he definitely catches up onto with the way he smirks. “Let’s say this is our little secret, yeah?”

You blush when you realize he’s, again, wearing the rings you gifted him months prior for secret santa.

Mingyu turns to lean against the wall with his back, facing the crowd as he lets himself drown into the loud music and the warmth your body radiates, shoulders touching. Your friend crouches down a bit, legs stretching on the ground and head close to your neck. With a sigh, he plops his head on your shoulder, turning to hide against you. He grabs your hips and holds his arm around your waist, audibly whining against your neck.

You nod silently, picking at the rim of your cup. From how close the two of you are, Mingyu can count your lashes, admire your face and the way your lips curl into a smile when you see your friends having fun on the other side of the room.

His breath tickles your skin and you realize mingyu’s just as tipsy as you are.

“You know what Hoshi told me?” he starts off, voice small and softer than usual. You guess he’s a bit tired from partying all night. It’s only a few seconds later that you look at him, smiling and humming when he silently waits for an answer. “He said you had a second gift for me.”

The man, who’s supposed to be 6.1ft tall, seems to shrink even more at your question, pouting and eyebrows furrowing. He glares at you before his eyes turn soft, hugging your body from the side. “You know I didn’t mean it like that~” His voice is slurry and you laugh at him, patting his head and passing your fingers through his hair.

Ah Hoshi, he wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t go around spilling secrets and creating drama. You avert your eyes, suddenly finding the fabric of Mingyu’s shirt very interesting. “Is the watch not enough for you? ‘didn’t know you would be so greedy, gyu.”

You nod again, fixing a few strands of hair on top of his head. “I like your hair like this.”

“Yeah? You think I’m handsome?”

Mingyu abruptly gets up, rolling his shoulders back to stand up straighter. He lets out a mix between a gasp and a chuckle before turning towards a mirror near where you’re leaning against the wall. He passes his hand through his hair, going over the spots you didn't touch and paying extra attention to not mess up the ones you previously styled as he smiles. Suddenly, his tone turns confident as he examines himself in the glass, winking and adjusting the sleeves of his shirt.

You try your best to keep a straight face but the alcohol in your system makes it a difficult task. “Of course, you’re always handsome.”

Mingyu seems to light up at your words, a big smile on his face as he returns to where you are, choosing to lean against the wall on your other side. You know he’s up to something with the way he looks at you but you don’t question it– he’s mainly harmless so you have nothing to worry about.

To Mingyu's surprise, you don’t deny it. 

He taps his pointer finger on his chin, pursing his lips and giggling, “Could it be that you’re flirting with me?”

He swears he can see a teasing look in your eyes before it quickly disappears, making him gulp. He can’t even question you about it more before you’re intertwining your fingers together, holding his hand close and walking away from the wall. Mingyu feels like a puppy following his owner, tail wagging and tongue lolling out as he watches you drag him to the other room, discarding your empty cup on a random counter.

With a loud sigh, you plop down next to the armrest, dragging Mingyu down with you, squishing his big body between Hoshi and you. He looks at you and pouts as you let your head fall back on the couch, closing your eyes for a few seconds as the loud music resonates off the walls. 

When the two of you enter the living room, you’re not even surprised to see some of your friends gate-keeping the couches, seemingly playing a drinking game. Hoshi is one of the drunker ones and you walk past him to get to the bigger couch, ruffling his hair as he stares with empty eyes at a framed photo hung up on the wall. He’s still out of it so you quickly scratch the underside of his chin with your nails and he perks up, immediately scooting over to give you and Mingyu some space on the couch.

You feel Mingyu’s hand resting on your forearm, slowly dragging up and down as he intensely watches goosebumps rise up on your arm. When Hoshi seems to get dragged into a conversation between Joshua and Seungkwan, voices fill the room and you joyfully listen, letting Mingyu take your hand in his. 

His skin feels soft against yours and his thumb draws circles on the back of your hand. You turn towards him, leaning further against the armrest as he smiles at you. He’s cute you think, he’s always been cute. 

And then Mingyu brings your intertwined hands up to his mouth, kissing the back of your hand delicately and smiling into the sweet kiss.

His eyes sparkle, the party lights making him shine. His hair is ruffled from the many hugs he received from his friends and his cheeks are rosy from the alcohol.

Suddenly, it feels like you two are the only ones there, like there aren’t dozens of partygoers stumbling around Mingyu’s apartment. It’s weird, how you stare at each other in absolute delight, ignoring everyone around you as if Seungcheol wasn’t calling out both your names for a game of truth or dare.

It’s Mingyu who first snaps out of it, having been elbowed in the ribs by Hoshi next to him. He grumbles in pain but lifts himself off the couch anyways, extending his hand out to you and winking at you. You laugh and place your hand in his, his warmth sending shivers over your spine. 

Mingyu hoists you up from the couch and immediately wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you so close to him that your free hand lands on his chest. He tilts his head slightly and comes closer, mouth inches away from your ear. 

“I’m happy you came. Thank you.”

Mingyu pulls back with a slight blush on his cheeks, the tip of his ears read. A shy smile covers his lips and for a moment you’re not sure if you’re able to speak. You shallow and find your vocabulary again, thoughts racing in your mind. 

When you speak up, eyes locked into his, Mingyu thinks he could pass out from the sugary sweet tone in your voice. 

“I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”

With a silent nod of his head in the direction of the hallway towards his friends, you put your hand in his again and lead the way, zigzagging between guests. 

—

“So, you really made out with that girl during summer camp? There’s no way that’s true.”

Laughter fills the room as you once again find yourself in the living room with Mingyu and his closest friends. At first, you had all followed one of the guys to the kitchen for a game of truth or dare until one of the partygoers threw up right on the stark white kitchen tiles, pausing the game and consequently pushing the group back to the sacred couches. 

Jun yells at Dino, hitting the latter on the shoulder and downing his drink. The younger one cackles, teasing Jun more for his confession. “Shut up, dickhead. I’m not saying anything else, just know that she was the one who initiated it.” 

His answer doesn’t convince Dino in the slightest and he just continues to laugh, falling backwards on the beanbag he’s currently occupying.

Mingyu’s laugh fills your ears, the joyful sound bringing a smile to your lips. You’re sitting right next to him again, but this time with your back to the armrest, one leg dangling off the couch and the other one blocked under the latter. Your heel digs into the skin of your thigh and unfortunately for you, it’s starting to feel like you have pins and needles in your legs.

You openly wince at the prickly sensation and squirm around, trying to release your hurt leg as you support yourself on the armrest, your feet on the floor slipping. Even with all the laughter and noise in the room– and Hoshi’s sudden barking, Mingyu notices and turns to you with worried eyes. You’re pouting without knowing it and he finds it hard to stare away from your lips, forcing himself to help instead.

What you didn’t expect however, was for him to pull your legs over his, in his lap, after you sat back down. You can feel your face heating up and you’re sure that your ears are full on red at this point. Mingyu knows the effect his action had on you, smirking while pretending like he’s absorbed by the current conversation– or more so an argument between Seungkwan and Dino about who used to have the best math grades in high school.

A gentle hand places itself on the side of your knee, helping you lift your leg as he guides you up with his other hand on your waist, respectfully and only after your nod of affirmation.

The boy continues to act like nothing is going on, seeming calm while his heart beats loudly in his chest. There is so much going on, the music resonating off the walls and friendly banter in the background, but Mingyu’s only focus is on the way your breath hitches when he hoists one of your legs up in his lap. He grabs onto your ankle, near the strap of your high heel and your leg soon joins the other one in his lap.

Mingyu’s being careful with his movements, unsure if he’s crossing a boundary or not– unsure if he just ruined one of his best friendships just because his heart couldn’t keep itself in check. But then you grin, eyes sparkling wide and radiant as you look at his hand on your ankle.

It’s a silent game of back and forth– Mingyu’s looking at you to see your reaction and you avoid his gaze, knowingly, to stare at his pretty hand running up and down your calf. Mingyu knows you would have said something if you disapproved of his action but he’s still feeling like a high school boy with a crush on someone for the first time, worrying about every small thing.

On the other hand, you are glowing, happiness and excitement radiating off you. You feel weird, butterflies erupting in your stomach as if you weren’t already aware of how much Mingyu could affect you– how he could make you fall in love with him over and over again.

Actually, if he thinks about it, he is a boy with a crush on someone– you, just not as a high school boy anymore since he graduated long ago.

You snap out of your little bubble, again, and for once you are grateful for Joshua. Because you’re almost hundred percent sure Mingyu was starting to trace hearts on your thigh. And you certainly didn’t know how much longer you could survive his constant flirting.

When your eyes lock, there’s a look and nod of agreement between you. And then his hand is on your upper thigh, thumb brushing circles on your skin.

“Truth or dare! Yn and Mingyu, you two are playing this round!”

Even with the guys’ screaming in the background, you hold eye contact with him for a little bit longer, just in time to see his eyebrows relax and his gaze soften before you’re diverting your eyes. 

“Isn’t truth or dare something you play in middle school?” You tease your friends, trying to lift yourself off the couch to sit up straighter so that other people can join and use the couch. Before you can do so and pull your legs off Mingyu’s lap, he stops you with a hand on your knee, looking at you with furrowed brows.

“Cmon Yn, truth or dare is a classic. Even us oldies have to play it once in a while!” Dino exclaims, unaware of the sudden tension rising from your couch.

A loud slap is heard before Dino winces, turning around to face the culprit as Scoups menacingly points at him, “Ya! Who are you calling old!” They continue to argue for a bit, with Dino calling the oldest, well, old and Scoups pushing the youngest off the beanbag and on the floor.

Normally, you would have paid more attention to it, the friendly banter bringing you much joy, but this time your mind is focused on something else.

If Mingyu tried to talk to you right now, you would barely be able to hear it over the loud music, but he doesn’t talk to you, his gaze tells you enough. “Don’t” is what you understand he’s trying to say and you let out a deep breath. He’s still staring at you, hand still on your knee and his eyes seem to be pleading you to stay.

At that moment, you realize you could probably never say no to Mingyu.

So you set your legs back down in his lap, readjusting your dress so that you don’t flash everybody. When Mingyu realizes you decided to stay, he sends you a big smile, teeth on display. And when he smiles at you like that, you would trade every couch in the damn world to see it a bit longer. You don’t even care anymore about the other party goers who might have wanted to join the game, Mingyu and you clearly taking up the whole couch, with a drunk Dk squished to Mingyu’s right side.

“Hey lovebirds! We said you two are playing, pay attention instead of staring at each other!” 

The game in itself isn’t that bothersome– your friends are mainly having fun, bickering and throwing each other under the bus when it comes to revealing not so important secrets. It’s pretty entertaining to watch and you take pleasure in it, but you can’t concentrate fully on Jeonghan’s story about how he saw his high school math teacher and science teacher, both married with kids, making out together in the science lab ten years prior. And all that because of the eyes boring into the side of your head. 

You huff when you still feel his eyes on you after Woozi downed his drink, poking Mingyu in the ribs. A quiet yelp leaves his mouth and you smirk, triumphantly, crossing your arms proudly, chin high. 

That is until Minghao turns towards you, pinky lifting from his glass and pointing your way. “Yn, truth or dare?” 

Your cheeks grow hot, being caught off guard as you sink into the armrest of the couch. You take a moment to think. You know Minghao isn’t the type to completely humiliate you if you decided to choose dare, he’s actually rather laidback with you, but you also remember accidentally spilling his last cup of his favorite tea right on his lap when you all went to visit his new apartment a week prior. And since Minghao’s pretty protective of his tea, you’d prefer to avoid walking right into the cage of a wild and unpredictable animal. 

And as the red-haired boy looks at you, waiting for your answer with a slight smirk on his face, you’re sure you made the right choice. 

“Truth. I don’t want to leave this place covered in a mix of glitter and cereal or something.” 

Truth it is. And could Truth possibly do even any harm?

Minghao hums, taking a last sip of his drink before finally speaking up. “Wise choice. Or not. Yn, of all the people in this room, who’s the guy you’re crushing on?” 

Okay, so apparently Truth can do a lot of harm. 

Your eyes widen, your mouth falling open in sock as everyone turns to look at you, some whispering between themselves and some even giggling. 

You definitely did not think this through enough. 

Mighao tilts his head a bit and you don’t waste a second more before you’re reaching forward to grab your shot glass off the table, “Pass”. In your haste, you forget that you’re basically sitting sideways on the couch and that you don’t have any support under you as you move your upper body off the couch, eventually losing balance and falling forward. 

But before you can hit the coffee table with full force, an arm snakes around your waist, holding you up and bringing you back on the couch. Mingyu’s hand is holding onto your hip firmly, his fingers dipping into the fabric of your dress. 

There’s a sudden silence as your friends look from you to Mingyu, then back to you. You turn your head towards your ‘savior’ and directly make eye-contact, the close position and the strong scent of his cologne making you dizzy. 

Your face heats up, again, and you quickly grab your glass from the table, downing it and returning to your seat, hands clasped tightly together. Minghao eyes the now empty shot glass and chuckles, “Hiding something?” 

You glare at him, “It’s one question only, Minghao.” You forgot sometimes how infuriatingly teasing he can be. 

The next round of truth and dare goes more smoothly, nobody’s falling to the ground and there are no questions regarding anyone’s love life– if you don’t take into account Joshua asking Hoshi if his sister is still single. 

You don’t know how much time passes but you feel at ease on the black couch, leaning the side of your head against the backrest as you continue to enjoy the nice and friendly atmosphere. The guys have now changed to another game in a smaller group, while the others thought it was a good idea to start playing Mario Kart.

The music changes to a slower genre when the clock hits 2am and you decide that maybe it’s time to get another drink, the alcohol leaving your system a bit too soon for your liking.

With a sudden boost of energy, you swing your legs off Mingyu’s lap and stand up, kneeling down to stack the empty shot glasses and bring them with you to the kitchen. While you’re doing so, you feel a tug at the bottom of your dress. Mingyu pulls the hem of your dress down as you lean over and he makes sure no one can sneak a glance under your short  outfit. 

You turn to him with difficulty, the stacked shot glasses in your hands and your heels almost knocking over a plastic cup on the ground. Mingyu looks up at you, hair brushed back and arm resting on the back of the couch. He waits for you to speak and you smile softly. “Want a drink?” 

The corners of his mouth turn up and he gets up from the couch, taking the shot glasses from your hands. “I’ll go with you, if that’s ok.” 

You nod, and almost notice the faint blush on Mingyu’s cheek, “Of course.”

The music is still playing through the heavy speakers in each corner of the room, the lights of the TV casts a colorful glow over Mingyu’s living room and the chatter of every party goer doesn’t go unnoticed as you two make your way out of the room, stepping over the many empty cups on the wooden floor and into the less crowded hallway.

There aren’t really a lot of people in the hallway, but most of them are walking from one room to another, making it a hassle to peacefully cross the hallway without bumping into someone. It’s loud and the people occupying the little space aren’t exactly making it easy to enter the kitchen. 

Mingyu sees the mess before you do, taking all the shot glasses in one hand and grabbing your hand with the other. His back is creating a wall between you and the ‘danger’ in the hallway, and before you know it, Mingyu’s pushing forward, bumping into drunk party goers to make it through. He quickly creates a path, one that is safe to take as he pushes away the cups and beer bottles on the ground away and to the side, craning his arm so that you’re close to his back and following him.

When a very drunk– and probably high, guy stumbles out of a random room and directly into Mingyu’s shoulder, the shot glasses nearly fall to the floor, earning a panicked gasp from the owner. The guy doesn’t even bother to say sorry, looking past the both of you with a dead gaze as he tumbles forward, weak legs bringing him to the living room.

You whip your head around, smelling the awful stench coming from the guy and bring your hand up to cover your mouth. When he’s out of sight, you sneak one last glance to where he disappeared off to and tsks. “Asshole.” 

Mingyu’s laugh brings your eyes back to him, puzzled. He just squeezes your hand, sending you a smile over his shoulder. 

As you two finally arrive at your destination, the kitchen, your eyes widen in horror. It seems that there are even more people in the small kitchen than in the living room, which is already crowded enough. There’s not even enough space to navigate properly, people choosing to squeeze themselves between other people to get to the exit, spilling bits of their newly-filled drink. You hear Mingyu sigh– the cleanup the morning after is gonna be a tough one.

“Hey, why don’t you wait for me here? I’ll go in alone and come back with the drinks.” Mingyu turns to you, the shot glasses carefully leaning against his chest. 

Mingyu watches as you glance around the hallway and then around him, into the kitchen. You bite your lip, showing you’re becoming a bit anxious and he furrows his eyebrows. His smile quickly falters, showing concern right away. “You okay?” 

You look up at him as he turns fully towards you, almost blocking the doorway to the kitchen. You pass your hands over your dress, flattening out the non-existent wrinkles. “Yeah, it’s just starting to feel a bit too stuffy in here..”

Mingyu hums, raising his head to look at the end of the hallway, where the door to the balcony is situated. When he returns his gaze to you, he tilts his head cutely, licking his lips. “You wanna wait by the balcony? I told the guests not to go on there too much so that i won’t get a noise complaint from the neighbors. I think it’s safe if you go there.” 

With a smile, you nod at Mingyu, “yeah, that would be great. Thanks.” You place one of your hands on the wall next to the kitchen before leaning in so he hears you better over the music. “Don’t die in there by the way! We haven’t even gone to Iceland yet like we planned to years ago– it would be a waste for you to miss out on our extravagant bucket list, right?”

Mingyu’s laugh fills your ears, the sound making you smile from ear to ear. “C’mon, who do you take me for? Seok– Oh sorry.” Mingyu cuts himself off, lifting his two hands in the air with one still holding all the shot glasses. The girl, who just bumped into Mingyu, and who you recognize as one of your classmates from your major, pushes her hair behind her ear, blushing at your friend. 

Before she leaves, she mumbles a few words, but the music is way too loud for you to make out what it was, and then she’s gone. 

You don’t pay too much attention to it, as does Mingyu, who’s already back to look at you. It’s not the first and certainly not the last time someone is going to bump into one of you two at his party. 

“Sorry, what were you saying?” You turn back to Mingyu, crossing your arms and making the silver necklace you’re currently wearing shine even more under the flashy led lights. 

“Ah, sweetheart, you never listen do you?” Mingyu brings his free hand up to your jaw, tapping on the underside of your chin with his index finger. “I said, you need to stop biting your lips when you’re nervous. They’re too pretty for that.” 

You can’t speak, your entire vocabulary having left your body. His hand then turns to cup the underside of your jaw, his thump grazing over your bottom lip, ultimately smudging a bit of your lipgloss. Your mouth falls open a bit at the shock but he doesn’t stop. “A pretty color.. for pretty lips. Suiting.” His thumb sweeps one last time over your lip before he retreats into the kitchen. 

“Wait for me by the balcony, I'll grab our drinks for us.” 

— 

The temperature outside is completely different from the stuffy warmth inside the small apartment, the cold breeze making you shiver. You’re not a fan of the winter, or the cold in general, but when it’s almost 3am and your cheeks are red from being around Mingyu, the weather is probably the only thing keeping you sane. 

You think it’s captivating outside– how the moon shines and provides you enough light, how the silence from nature and the muffled sounds from the party mix together, how the wind blows your hair around and makes you tremble. You like it all.

There’s a calming atmosphere around it. You don’t feel as edgy as before and you mentally thank Mingyu for allowing you to use his sacred space for your own benefit. 

If you truly think about it, you had come to the party with no real intentions, but as the night goes by, you find yourself yearning for more. 

You find yourself yearning for Mingyu. You suppose it’s not entirely a bad thing– it’s also not the first time. 

You’re leaning over the balcony railing, looking down to the street at the foot of his apartment building. The concrete tiles are darker than usual, and wet– you were too absorbed by the party to even notice it was raining outside. The water droplets on the railing are cold against the skin of your forearms but you just clench your jaw through it. In a way, it wakes you up.

Your eyes are closed as you hum to the melodies of the pop song playing inside, chin propped up on your palm. You don’t know how long you rest your eyes, but you missed Mingyu’s voice when he opens the door to the balcony, stepping out of the apartment and smiling your way.

“Sleepy?” You just tilt your head, eyes still closed. You do turn towards him as you feel his presence behind you. 

You realize Mingyu always smiles when he’s looking at you and butterflies race in your stomach. 

Your hands are on the slippery metal railing as you lean back against it, the water droplets staining the lower back of your dress. It’s cold against your skin and you shiver, suddenly, and Mingyu notices, immediately stepping closer to you. 

“Just a bit out of energy.” 

Mingyu closes the balcony door behind him, swiftly setting down the two newly-filled plastic cups on a wobbly garden table in the corner and joining you. He stands in front of you, hands in his pockets and smirking down at you. You gulp, feeling like his prey. 

“Why’s that?” His tone doesn’t show an ounce of concern. Probably because he knows he has nothing to worry about. 

You’re not a jealous person, truly. You’re relatively confident when it comes to your relationships and friendships and have never deemed it necessary to throw a tantrum about your partner and who he talks to. To be fair, your last relationship was quite a while ago, but you still stand by your own beliefs. 

So, feeling a tiny bit of jealousy creep up when your classmate– the one who had previously bumped into Mingyu– walked up to him in the kitchen and laid her perfectly manicured hand on his bicep was an entirely new thing for you. 

You had even questioned yourself if you had the right to be jealous. You and Mingyu weren’t even together! 

The fact that you could watch what was happening right from your spot on the balcony didn’t help you either– your curious self being unable to stop watching while your mind was telling you to think about happy moments– aka moments where Mingyu showed he was definitely more interested in you than in the party or your classmate. 

So even though the little angel on your shoulder tried to avert your eyes from the crime scene, the manipulation play from the little devil on your other shoulder was a bit too convincing for your liking. In conclusion, you found yourself staring at the entire event. 

Frankly, nothing happened. On Mingyu’s part at least. The girl however, let’s say she was just trying to get to know him (a lie you’re definitely not telling yourself to keep calm).

Honestly, you weren’t paying much attention at first. It’s Mingyu’s birthday party, of course people will go up to him and congratulate him. But when the girl– you honestly don’t even remember her name– leaned towards him and put her hand on his chest, on the same spot where your hand had been moments prior, you knew this was more than a simple “happy birthday!”. 

Was it foul to only remember the way Mingyu’s smile seemed fake, the way he slowly backed away from her presence, and the way he rushed back to you? If it was, you couldn’t care less.

The two drinks he brought back were still sitting on the old table, untouched as if forgotten. 

Mingyu’s a bit too close for your liking. You can probably start counting his lashes– or the sparkles in his eyes. But when you open your mouth to joke, so that the tension could leave your body, Mingyu interrupts you and gets even closer. 

His tone is serious but you know he’s enjoying this, the corner of his mouth tilting up. “Were you jealous?” 

You hate how good Mingyu knows you, and you hate the effect he currently has on you, even though you would normally bathe in it. 

You know he knows, so there’s really no need to lie. Even more so when one of the reasons why he rushed back to you was because your eyes met when he was getting your drinks, and he saw you biting your lip. And you know now he doesn’t like it when you do that. 

You lean back against the railing even more, the metal digging into your skin as your heart starts to speed up. Your sudden shyness doesn’t waver his interest in the slightest and he only takes a step forward, backing you up against the railing. 

“What are you going to do if I say I was?” 

At that, Mingyu chuckles, looking to the side before hanging his head down. When he looks at you again, his hand finds its way to your cheek and he carefully brushes over the blush adorning your skin. 

The only thing you hear is a small ‘cute’ uttered under his breath before he retracts his hand and puts both of them on the railing behind you, trapping you between him and the end of the balcony.

Mingyu caught you, literally, and there’s not much you can do to stop him from getting what he wants. So you opt the easy way out, speaking the truth. “I was jealous, yeah. For the first time ever actually.” 

His smile grows even wider. “Do you love me that much, darling?” 

You don’t give him an answer this time, because you know he’s not really waiting for one. He knows and that’s enough for him, now. He also doesn’t really have the correct mindset to play this game with you at his party. The few glasses of alcohol you both took earlier are probably a bit at fault too. 

You clear your throat and he speaks up again, voice a bit rougher than earlier. “I guess Hoshi didn’t lie when he told me you liked me that much that you would have prepared two gifts for me.”

“You know Hoshi almost always lies.” You let go of the railing, hands finding their way to Mingyu’s waist, fiddling with his leather belt.  

You hear him inhale sharply, looking up to the sky for a short moment before focusing on you again, and definitely not on your hands. 

To fight back against the aggressive butterflies causing havoc in his stomach, Mingyu pulls you towards him, one hand on your lower back and the other one squeezing the fat at your hip. He’s in total control, and he’s confident about it too– you couldn’t even blame him for it. 

“Oh, almost always? So he’s not lying this time?” Mingyu leans down again, faces inches away from each other, to the point where you could just close the distance between the two of you with a small movement of the head. “Because I do think there’s some truth to it, sweetheart.” 

Your hair swings in the wind, and even though it’s cold, you want to stay with Mingyu as long as possible. His body feels warm under your fingertips and you almost gasp when he pushes you against the railing, his hand protecting your lower back from digging into the cold, wet metal. 

A short silence fills the air and you don’t know what to do except look away, your face growing hotter and hotter with every minute. Mingyu doesn’t talk either, too busy staring down at you. He makes a mental list in his head of all the things he loves about you, adoring you with his eyes while the music inside resonates from the glass door. 

You look away because you can feel him stare, and you wouldn’t know how to react if you were to make eye contact, since the effect Mingyu has on you is continuously making your knees buckle under you. 

“Were you interested?”, you suddenly ask, voice much quieter than before. It takes Mingyu a few seconds to realize what you’re talking about when you don’t meet his eyes, deciding to rather look at his shoes instead. 

He thought he had made it clear– clearer than anything else– but he didn’t expect you to suddenly shy away while in his arms and close to his chest, all because some girl tried to flirt with him. Deep down, you know he isn’t (if he was, he wouldn’t be with you right now, risking at least a three day-long fever) but you want him to say it. 

Mingyu just tilts his head a bit, a soft smile on his face as he tries to show you you have nothing to worry about. “Not in her, no.”

This time you smile back, a quiet ‘good’ falling off your lips as you place your hands on his forearms, palming his muscles through the sleeves. “Just wanted to make sure, y’know.”

He knows. 

Now it’s his turn to ask questions though.

“Why didn’t you say anything during Truth or Dare?” The question comes off strong, completely out of nowhere and causing your eyes to widen in shock. You weren’t expecting him to mention the game and how much you had embarrassed yourself.

You’re quick to answer though, in all honesty. “Because the others didn’t have to know.”

Mingyu smirks, liking the way your face heats up whenever he does or says something. He feels like your eyes can’t take him in wholly, going from one part to another frantically as they slide over his upper body. “And can I?” 

Your eyebrows furrow after his teasing tone makes an appearance again and he has to stop himself from letting out a chuckle. You’re almost pouting too, lower lip jutting out and unintentionally showing off your pretty lipgloss. You cross your arms, nails digging in your own forearms as the cold suddenly takes over you again. “I think it’s pretty obvious, don’t you think?”

A beat of silence, and then, “I want you to say it.”

He’s begging for it, pleading eyes boring into yours. His voice sounds somewhat more whiny as he starts to rub your sleeveless arms, making the goosebumps disappear. It’s not the first time you’ve seen Mingyu use his puppy eyes, he usually brings them out when someone teases him or when he needs something, and today, it’s the latter. 

Once again, you find yourself unable to refuse Mingyu anything. 

“I should have said your name when Minghao asked.”

Then he’s smiling again, happy you finally (kinda) admitted what you two should have confessed months earlier. He didn’t think you would give in so quickly, making him beam in excitement. His eyes are full of joy and his cheeks are rosy– you like to think it’s because of what you said, but the alcohol could still be playing a part in it.

You didn’t even feel tipsy anymore, no blurred vision or imperfect balance. It’s the first time you’ve sobered up so quickly, and you entirely thank Mingyu for it. 

You truly don’t know how much time passed since you stepped foot onto the balcony, the cold weather dragging every minute out but Mingyu’s presence speeding everything up. The music seemed to have calmed down a lot since the beginning of the night, and when you glance around Mingyu and into the apartment, you notice you can actually now make out the furniture and picture frames in the hallway. The kitchen and hallway are mainly empty but you can still hear chatter and laughter coming from the living room, concluding the rest of the guests are probably scattered all over the couches.

When your thoughts are all over the place, a slight pinch at your hip wakes you up, bringing you back to reality– on the balcony, and still in Mingyu’s arms. He chuckles, smoothing down your dress where he pinched you, rubbing over the now sore spot as you slowly wince. 

He looks behind him, into his apartment, where you were previously staring at and comes to the same conclusion as you. 

You’re all alone, with no one around. 

That thought alone makes him gulp. Fuck, was he always this nervous around girls?

It’s a silly question, because he knows he’s only ever that nervous when it comes to you.

He’s nervous, but he still craves for more so he focuses on you again. On your pretty eyes and how much they glisten in the moonlight. On your soft hair and how perfectly his hand fits in the nape of your neck, playing with a few strands. On your pretty lips and how he wishes he could just kiss away the lipgloss, so that you’d have to apply it again and he could then mess it up again.  

Mingyu needs you now, and if that means speaking without a filter, then so be it– a sacrifice he’s more than willing to give. 

“Are you going to kiss me now?”

You giggle and he feels dumb. But then you smile so deeply that he falls in love all over again. And he thinks you’re with no doubt the most beautiful soul he’s ever met. 

Your hands start to travel back up from his forearms to his biceps, before landing on his shoulders, where they squeeze his muscles, the tension in them all too familiar. You eye him, entirely this time, taking your time to appreciate every single part of him. 

You stare a bit too long at his neck and Mingyu blushes, unaware of how he’s supposed to react to this sudden onslaught of attention. Your hands move up to his jaw, holding his face close to yours as you stroke both his cheeks. 

You truly have him twisted around your finger. 

“Do you want me to?” It's an unnecessary question, but you want him to say it– just like Mingyu wanted you to before. Mingyu thinks he’s on the verge of collapsing, the only thing still keeping him upright are your hands on him and his on your waist and the railing. 

He’s desperate as he catches both of your wrists and kisses them each, before bringing your right arm up to wrap around his neck. He’s slow but determined and it sends shivers down your spine. Your nails scratch against the nape of his neck and he groans, clearly affected by it– by you. 

“Please, Yn.”

Your left arm soon joins the other one around his neck and Mingyu has to mentally restrain himself from rushing whatever good is supposed to happen. When both your arms are loosely hanging around his neck, your bodies are closer than ever, chests pressed against each other, warmth engulfing you entirely.  

Your sweet voice is the last thing he hears before his mind circuits. “Guess it’s time for your second gift then.”

And then you’re standing on your tip-toes, closing the small distance between you two and finally, finally stopping the seemingly endless torture. 

Your lips smash against his and it’s so aggressive because you can’t control yourself anymore. His lips feel soft and delicate against yours and you think you might end up breaking them– you wish you would. 

Mingyu holds a strong grip onto your waist, his arm circling around it to make sure you don’t shy away again. His other hand is on the side of your neck, holding onto your face as he pushes you against the balcony railing. 

One of the first things he notices is your raspberry flavored lip gloss– which he swears he knows he will never get enough of– and the slight hint of alcohol on your lips. It’s enamoring, enticing and everything he’s ever wanted. 

You run out of breath quickly but you don’t stop, you refuse to, physically unable to separate yourself from him. It’s Mingyu who backs away first, leaving you desperate for more, chasing after his lips. You gasp for air, head spinning at the utterly new but heavenly feeling while Mingyu attacks your neck, jaw, and everything that could make your eyes roll back.

Your hands are gripping onto his shirt, nails clawing at his back as Mingyu takes pleasure in pressing kisses onto your skin, going from your neck down to your cleavage and stopping when his chin grazes the fabric of your dress.

Mingyu groans when you pull at his hair, biting and sucking at your neck before planting a last kiss on your collarbone, quickly coming back up to your lips. He swears he can’t live anymore without kissing you. 

You drag Mingyu closer to you by the collar of his shirt, and then he’s kissing you again. His lips were determined and unrelenting, not letting go of you. He was addicted, goosebumps taking over his body as he bit down on your lower lip. You whined at the metal taste in your mouth, craning your neck for more. 

Mingyu chuckled against your lips, kissing them slowly before sliding his tongue against your lower lip to soothe the bite. He’s barely leaving you alive, completely breathless but still– always–  aching for more. 

His mouth was devouring you and you just couldn’t get enough– both of you, too absorbed in your own little bubble to even notice the weather was becoming gradually worse, rain falling out of the sky in a downpour. 

His tongue slid against your lips, again, before entering your mouth. Your hands holding onto Mingyu’s shoulders weren’t enough to get you anchored, legs trembling as he held onto your waist, muscles flexing. 

Mingyu’s warmth surrounded you completely, to the point where you felt like you couldn't breathe properly. Mingyu had taken full control over you, as your mind was a total mess, and you were just able to follow his movements and beg for more.

You gripped onto his bicep as you arched your back, the rain drenching both of you to the core– not that you really cared anyway, the way Mingyu’s tongue fought with yours was what truly mattered. 

You were ruined– completely and devastatingly ruined for everyone who wasn’t Mingyu.  

Then he eventually parted from you, pressing one sweet kiss to your mouth and you almost teared up when you felt him smile against your lips. 

Mingyu was beautiful, soaking wet hair sticking to his forehead, cheeks and the tip of his ears spark red and his lips swollen, red and plump from kissing you. His chest is heaving as you stare up at him, not caring in the slightest about the rain messing up your makeup and outfit. 

His hands slowly lift up to your face, holding it so softly your heart skips a beat. His thumb sweeps over your cheekbone and he leans towards you, nuzzling your nose with his. 

Mingyu’s eyes literally shine and your lips part in awe.

You stare too much but Mingyu doesn’t force you to look away, because he’s sure he’s staring just as much. 

It’s only when you lean back into his arms that Mingyu notices the lingering taste of raspberry on his lips. He grins and he hopes that your lip color stained his lips, so that when you go back inside, your friends know that you’re his now– not that they weren’t aware before. 

And when you lift your head to look at him, arms circled around his waist, your smudged lipgloss is enough to make him want more. 

“Happy fucking birthday to me.”

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[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 6: Best Friends Forever

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary:  When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you never expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team.  (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy.

Word Count: 9.9K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), derogatory comments, sexism, swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, sexual tension, little bit of homophobia (It's Soldier Boy). Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

A/N: I know I said I was gonna be more angsty with this chapter, but I got distracted, the sun was in my eyes, and my hand slipped…

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

The next morning Mike’s screeching begins all over again, but today he starts with "My Girl" by the Temptations.

He's getting warmer.

You think with a smile, singing along to the song under your breath as you prop yourself up on your pillows with a content sigh. The smell of gardenia wafted over your bed in a gentle wave as your curtains opened, allowing the sunlight to drift over your bed. The beautiful white flowers bloomed from the plant sitting on your bedside table, each petal frosted with mist from the mister hanging on the wall behind it.

Gardenias reminded you of home. They were your grandmother's favorite. There were several large bushes gracing the front yard of her home that rose almost as high as the second story. Whenever you were back home you would make sure that they burst into bloom so she could fill her home with the sweet smelling flowers. It helped you relax and sleep at night, though sometimes it didn't do much to keep the nightmares away.

You hadn't had a good night sleep in a while, but after Ben and you had been up late putting together the bookshelf that stood proudly in the left corner of your bedroom, you were exhausted. Now it was filled with your worn brightly colored paperbacks and covered with a healthy amount of pothos vines as was everything else in your home, but you loved it.

When the delivery men had arrived late yesterday evening and they had been more than willing to carry the couch up the three flights of stairs, but Ben had told them to leave and said "I'm not some kind of pussy that waits for her fucking husband to come home because she needs him to change a lightbulb."

And so they left, leaving Ben and you with the box your unassembled bookshelf came in and a giant three piece couch.

Mike's mother had set up a folding chair with her best friend Mary Ann outside on the sidewalk, drinking glasses of wine and giggling like schoolgirls each time Ben and you came back down to haul another piece of the couch back up into the apartment. He tried to make you sit upstairs and wait for him to bring it in, but you had cussed him out and held up the only finger that mattered.

Putting together the bookshelf hadn't been that much better. Ben had almost broken two of the tiny wooden pegs that secured the back panel all the while cursing under his breath when you tried to show him the instructions.

And being in the presence of the instructions seemed to trigger Ben. It immediately turned the two of you into the couple in the car that bicker over a map before they get murdered in a horror movie.

The shouting got so loud that Mike raced over hopeful that Ben had broken your heart and that he would there to pick up the pieces, while Mike's mother followed in quick pursuit hoping to console Ben.

But when Ben had answered the door sweaty and shirtless- because you'd ripped his shirt on accident when he tried to walk away from you muttering something about "women and their fucking instructions" and you'd grabbed him while shouting "say it to my face you geriatric asshat!"- Mike thought that he had interrupted something else and retreated back to his apartment in shame while his mother stood in the hallway waving a hand in front of her face to calm down.

As annoying as Ben was, you loved the bookshelf. It was perfect for your bedroom and looked a little whimsical, which was how most of your apartment looked with the mismatched vintage furniture, all the plants, and the crocheted blankets. What you couldn't figure out was why he bought it for you.

You had relented on his purchase of the couch, because it did make sense, he was spending the most time on it, but his purchase of the bookshelf confused you. He'd been in your bedroom all of five minutes a few days ago and had only looked at the pile of vine covered books once.

So why did it bother him so much that I had a pile of books on the floor of my bedroom? Why did he have to buy it for me? Why did he care enough to?

No one had ever done that before for you. Your high school boyfriend, Newton, had seen the same pile of books in your bedroom back home every time he came over and never did anything about it, but Ben had only seen it for a moment and remembered.

I don’t understand why he’s acting so nice. You stretch your hands up over your head and begin to get out of bed. Probably because he thinks if he’s nice I’ll sleep with him.

The thought was becoming familiar, but you weren't sure what other reason it could be for. The two of you had nothing in common. He was always angry, sexually forward, annoying, not to mention he was from another century and he didn't understand anything about the present time.

I mean sometimes it's kinda cute how clueless he is about stuff like that. He always gets that adorable frown and- Nope, nope, nope not thinking about that right now.

Bean purrs in agreement with your thought at the end of your bed, stretching his front legs and arching his back. His charcoal fur looks almost silver in the light from the sun that streams through the open window leaving behind the imprint of the brilliant square on your comforter.

Bean had enjoyed watching the two of you put together the bookshelves, well, he enjoyed playing in the box that the bookshelf came in. He ran in and out, back and forth through the openings on both sides of the  box, using it like a tunnel all the while Ben complained over the small screws and even smaller pegs that never seemed to fit where they needed to.

Personally you just think Ben was jealous that you knew how to read the instructions and he didn't.

And last night you understood just how bad Ben was at receiving directions. He had ignored you when you tried to help him, which had lead to the yelling match that Mike walked in on.  

But you still didn’t understand why he cared so much about the pile of books in your bedroom. They'd been sitting there since you moved in, because you hadn't found a proper place for them, not to mention the pile just kept growing.

At least he didn't look too closely at the titles. The last thing I want Ben to know is how many romance novels I read.

You grab a bundle of your clothes and open your bedroom door, while Mike continues to sing "My Girl." You creep down the hallway, intent on taking a shower, but your curiosity gets the better of you, so instead of going to the bathroom, you peek into the living room.

Ben is sitting on the new charcoal couch that you crammed into the room, reading a newspaper and you have no idea where he got it.

Maybe he already left sometime this morning?  Guess he can be quiet when he wants to be.

Bean prances down the hallway behind you and jumps onto the back of the couch, kneading his paws in the soft pillows, before dropping down next to Ben. Ben smiles at the cat and folds the newspaper closed so he can scratch him under the chin.

"Hey buddy." You hear him mutter. "Y/n up yet?"

Bean only purrs and rubs himself further into Ben's hand.

"Don't know how anyone can sleep with that jack-off next door." Ben rolls his eyes, but doesn't raise them from the cat that has begun to crawl into his lap. "Why does she hate me so much?" He whispers to Bean with a sigh.

His question made you freeze where you were standing in the hallway. It was so open, so honest, so completely unlike Ben. It was the last thing you were expecting him to ask your cat, well, honestly you didn't think that he would talk to the cat at all. You suddenly wondered what other things he said about you when you weren't around.

And why does he care so much if I hate him? I mean I don't, he just gets on my nerves constantly, and knows how to press all my buttons.

You liked to think that you were an easy-going person, but Ben drove you crazy. You'd never met anyone who could do that to you before, never allowed yourself to get angry, not even when Poppy Mansfield who put chocolate pudding on your seat at lunchtime when you were in fourth grade and made everyone think you'd pooped your pants. You'd only shrugged and walked to the bathroom, it was Annie who lost it. Annie had grabbed a handful of pudding and smeared it on Poppy's face and earned her the nickname "Poopy Poppy" until she transferred to another school at the end of the year.

But not with Ben, he crawled under your skin and stayed there whenever he teased you . Usually you let insults and teases roll off your back like water off a duck, but not with Ben. He knew what to say to make you lose your temper. You didn't know how he did that.

Not all the time though.

The trip to IKEA had been kind of fun, well, fun until Ben had insulted your boss and when the two of you watched a movie together it was fun.

In fact, the more time you spent with him, the more you were starting to like him. You wish you didn't. It just made everything harder. You remember what he said at the plant shop, tried to burn it into your heart, that he didn't care about feelings or emotions and you did. You wanted to be with someone who cared about that, someone who understood everything about you, and loved you. You wanted love so bad your heart ached sometimes, and yes maybe you read way too many romance novels, but you wanted something like that to happen to you. You wanted to be so wrapped up in someone else that the world faded away, someone kind and sweet, who remembered little things like how much you liked gardenias or how much you loved pineapple iced tea from the place just around the corner and someone who would be okay with sitting on the couch or in bed, with you laying back in their arms while you read your newest book or tried to crochet.

Ben didn't care about any of that, probably what he would call "pussy shit." He just wanted sex, plain and simple, nothing more, nothing less.

And you didn't want just sex.

You didn't want to start something with Ben, develop strong feelings for him, and then only have him push you away as soon as he got what he wanted. You couldn't handle having your heart broken again. Newton had been enough and after him you told yourself you were going to try harder, were going to find someone who saw your self-worth. Of course that had been a few years ago and each year kinda felt like another nail in the coffin when you went on countless dates with people who never seemed to want the same things you did.

Plus, you were sure that Ben was only interested in you because you kept saying no and that made you "exciting" or whatever. So that just meant you were going to have to keep trying to find someone else.

You take a step back into the hallway, creeping further away as silent as possible. You didn't want him to catch you spying on him and you didn't want him to know that you had heard him ask Bean that. You force your door closed, before putting your clothes in the bathroom and shuffling down the hallway, purposely being as loud as you can so Ben can hear you over Mike's inhuman screech.

“Good morning.” You say as you enter the living room, as if it’s the first time.

“Morning Petals.” Ben looks over the back of the couch. He smirks as his eyes trace over your body. “Don’t you look delicious this morning.”

Your shorts were a little shorter than what you usually wore, hitting the middle of your thigh, and the oversized shirt you wore hung over them giving the illusion that you weren't wearing anything underneath it.

He is so confusing sometimes. Maybe he really just doesn't know how to talk to a woman in this century. Did that really work for him before? Does that work with all his dates?

“Thanks.” You say dryly.

Ben’s smirk twitches and something passes through his eyes that looks a little bit like regret, but it’s gone as soon as you see it.

You turn towards the kitchen. You didn’t know what you were looking for, truthfully you were just making conversation because you felt bad about what Ben asked Bean. You didn't know why that hurt you so much for him to think that you hated him, maybe it had something to do with everything that he'd been through. You wave a hand, perking up the plants in the box over the sink and the raspberry and blackberry vines covering the refrigerator to distract yourself.

“Um-“ You begin, but Ben interrupts you.

“There’s coffee in the microwave!” Ben suddenly blurts.

“What?”

Why is it in the microwave? Shouldn't it be in the coffee maker?

You sniff the air for the tell-tale smell of coffee, but smell nothing. A glance in the direction of the coffee maker reveals that the pot is still sparkling clean from when you washed it out last night.

Is he really lying about coffee? It's like he wants me to hate him.

“Um I mean-“ Ben clears his throat. “I got you coffee.”

“You got me coffee?” You parrot, surprised. “When?” You turn to look at him. He's watching you from over the back of the couch and he almost looks a little awkward, like he's not sure where to go from here as if he's not sure what to do when he does something nice for someone.

“I went to get a newspaper and I walked past a coffee shop.” He shrugs as if suddenly uninterested turning back around to face the jasmine covered wall, picking his newspaper up and opening it.

But you have a suspicion that he wasn't actually reading it, that he was just using it as a prop so he didn't have to look at you anymore.

“Oh. Thanks." You open up the microwave and withdrawal the still warm coffee mug taking a sip.

How in the fuck did he know how I like my coffee? You think to yourself, about to do a spit take you were so shocked, because the coffee was perfect. "How did you know-"

"I read the label on the one plant boy bought you the other day." Ben doesn't look up from his newspaper. "Is it… okay?" He asks it tentatively and a little awkward.

"Yeah. It's perfect actually. Thank you." You say it almost robotically. You couldn't believe that he remembered something like that about you. That he actually thought about you when he went to get a newspaper this morning.

He grunts a "You're welcome."

You take another sip and place it back in the microwave. Preparing to go back to take a shower.

"Do you…" Ben clears his throat again. "Do you work today?" He says it hesitantly.

"No. I usually have Friday's off because Annie and I make plans, but this week she cancelled because Hughie got tickets to some concert a few hours away and they're making it a day trip or whatever." You tried not to sound disappointed, but Friday's were usually you and Annie's day. You would plan random trips to shops in NYC, go to brunch, find ridiculous tourist attractions, try new restaurants, or you would go spend the day in Central Park reading. But Friday nights were wine, greasy pizza, sushi, Chinese food, snacks, and movie nights, had been since your parents died. It had been a family tradition before, Friday night films, but when they died Annie took it upon herself to continue it with you because your brother hadn't been willing to. Of course, when you were kids there wasn't wine, there also weren't movies with Glen Powell or Pedro Pascal, but as you grew so did the films and the conversations and the men, but your friendship blossomed with it.

"Oh." Ben leans his head back over the back of the couch, the smirk back in full force. "Well I've got a few ideas for what we could do today. Sounds like you're a little disappointed there Petals. I'm sure I could cheer you up."

You roll your eyes. "I'm going to take a shower."

"Great, I need one too." Ben jumps to his feet, leaving the newspaper on the couch as he turns to follow you.

"Ben." You sigh his name in frustration.

This is exactly what I'm talking about, he does something really nice and then he follows it up immediately by trying to sleep with me. Is that what this is to him? Do something chivalrous to make me like him and then finally let him fuck me?

It made you angry that he believed it would work.

"What? It'll save water and I just want to make you feel better Petals." Ben wiggles his eyebrows. "You sounded so sad when you said that Annie ditched you-"

"She didn't ditch me!" You snap. "She just had plans with Hughie that's all. And I can't believe you!"

"What the hell did I do?"

"You think that doing something like buying me coffee will get me to sleep with you."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about! You're trying to act all chivalrous and nice just so that you can get me to finally sleep with you. But I'm not going to fall for it Gramps! I am not going to sleep with you just because you do one nice thing for me or try to pretend to care about me." You turn and stomp down the hallway, leaving Ben absolutely speechless in the living room.

When you get in the bathroom you blast your ABBA Gold Album from your Bluetooth speaker to drown out Mike's singing and to drown out your insane internal monologue. And when the music doesn't work, you start to sing the lyrics to the familiar songs letting the melodies soothe you.

You’d liked ABBA since you were a kid. Your mom would listen to it when she was cooking in the large kitchen in your childhood home and when your father got home from work at the end of the day he’d creep up behind her and pull her away from the stove for an impromptu dance.

Your childhood was filled with so much love from two people that were absolutely head over heels. And it made you want that too. It’s why you wouldn’t give in to Ben, because the memories of your parents and the love they shared still warmed your heart years after you’d last seen them.

You dry your hair with a towel, continuing to sing as you dress in your jeans and t-shirt, hoping that you could just escape the apartment by going to Central Park and read on your favorite bench to avoid seeing Ben. You were maybe a little embarrassed that you had yelled at him again. You never intended to.

Maybe I can just creep past him.

You think to yourself as you open the door of the bathroom, but as you step into the hallway you trip over something big on the ground and begin to pitch forward with a started screech. The thing you tripped on catches you so that you fall directly into Ben's lap, your legs on either side of his thighs. You realize that it was Ben you tripped on, who had decided to lounge with his back against one of the walls of the hallway, his legs bent at the knee, directly outside of the small bathroom.

As you fall into his lap, your hands land on his shoulders grabbing tightly in fear and surprise, while his hands catch your hips, pushing up the shirt you had just changed into enough that his hands are resting on a sliver of skin that peeks between your shirt and your favorite pair of jeans.

You weren't expecting it to feel so damn good for his skin to touch yours, to feel the roughness of his hands against the soft skin of your hips. Your hands are still gripping his shoulders tightly, heart thrumming in your veins as you lock eyes with him, adrenaline from the fall still rushing through your veins. He looks as surprised as you do. His face is so close that you can feel his breath on your lips, his body warm and hard beneath yours, and it's making you have flashbacks of the other night when he kissed you in front of Mike, when Ben crushed you against him and kissed you with so much passion that you couldn't equate it to anything else you'd ever felt in your entire life.

You weren't about to admit that aloud, that the kiss you shared with Ben was the best one you'd ever had. And you weren't going to admit that if he kissed that good, you were betting that he would be the best you ever had at other things too. Newton hadn't exactly been a Casanova, and you'd hoped that Newton would have gotten at least a little better at some things the more you two were intimate, he hadn't. You'd also hoped that Newton would have been more concerned about you the closer the two of you were, but each time you were a little disappointed and he was, well, happy.

No. Not thinking about sex right now, not when I'm sitting on top of Ben for fucks sake.

That was a little detail that you were trying very hard to ignore, but it was difficult, not when you could feel everything that made Ben-ahem- Ben, beginning to get interested in your position on top of him.

Ben's eyes are dark, focused on your face, an emotion swimming behind them that makes something snag under your ribs and try to yank you forward, to close the distance between the two of you. His eyes flick from your eyes to your mouth for just a millisecond, moving his face an inch forward, just enough that you can feel the warmth of his lips, but they still do not touch.

"Ben what are you doing on the ground?" You say leaning back to lengthen the distance between your faces, but you can't force your voice into more than a hoarse whisper.

"Dropped my keys." He lies.

"Ben?"

Ben hesitates for a moment. "You've got a pretty voice, wanted to hear better." He admits under his breath, looking as if you caught him with a baseball bat outside your broken kitchen window.

What?

You could feel yourself flushing to the roots of your hair. You'd forgotten that he could hear you in the shower and forgotten that his hearing was so good that he’d be able to pick up what was Mike and what was you. “I’m sorry if it was too loud-“

“No. It was nice.” The end of his mouth twitches in half smile, eyes twinkling impishly. “I’d never tell a woman she was being too loud. I like that doll."

You roll your eyes at him, but his comment doesn’t annoy you this time. You wondered if that was because you were getting used to him and the way he was.

You wanted to kiss him so badly that your lips were aching. He always looked so good and right now was not an exception. Some of his dark hair had fallen forward over his forehead and your fingers itched to push it back, to drag your fingertips over his skin and feel the dips and grooves of his handsome face. The smell of his shampoo was everywhere, spicy and familiar in the best way.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” You whisper. Your hands hands have fallen from his shoulders to rest against the front of his shirt. You don’t really remember when you did that, just that now you can feel the warmth of his chest and the subtle beating of his heart in the palms of your hands. “I think I am kind of upset that Annie cancelled on me today.”

“It’s okay, I'm used to it." Ben's hands are still on you waist, firmly keeping you on top of him. “You always seem to yell at me.”

"Shut up I do not yell at you that much." You laugh, pushing back on his chest playfully.

Ben smiles, but then you watch it drop.

“Look I didn’t get you coffee because I thought it would make you let me fuck you. I got it because you always say you need it to deal with me.” The way he says it breaks something, because he sounds almost sad and you’d never heard him sound that way before. “And I figured that I would see you today and that you’d need it.” He drops his gaze to where your hands are placed on his chest. He’s watching them curiously, like he can’t quite understand it.

Honestly you couldn’t understand what was going on either. Ben was holding you gently, almost reverently on his lap. It was odd. You’d never seen him be this way with anyone.

“Ben-“ You sigh. “I need coffee to deal with everyone, not just you. You’re not special.” You joke to get him to smile again, but he doesn’t instead he continues to look at your hands.

“Hey.” You whisper and this time your hand drifts softly to Ben’s cheek holding his gaze on you. His eyes widen slightly with your bold touch. “Ben I don’t hate you. I just-“

 There’s a loud frantic knocking at the front door that startles you off of Ben and on to the ground beside him.

“Were you expecting anyone?” Ben asks as he stands up and holds out his hand to help you.

“Um- no actually.” You reply taking it.

The frantic knocking starts again.

“Do you think it’s Mike checking to see if we broke up again?” Ben snorts.

“I think it might be his mom hoping you answer the door shirtless. Almost gave that poor woman a heart attack.” You start to walk through the living room.

“I remember you having a similar reaction a few days ago Petals.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “Though I will say if you ever decided to walk around the apartment shirtless I’d be perfectly okay with that.”

“I did not. And I’m sure you would.” You roll your eyes. “But I doubt you’d be okay with letting me answer the door like that since you seem to be so jealous. Are all the men from your generation so possessive of women they can’t have? Or is it just you?”  You tease, remembering how he reacted yesterday afternoon at IKEA in front of Jake.

You doubted that he was jealous. Ben didn’t have anything to be jealous about. He seemed to be plenty happy with the women he found on tinder and you thought it was ridiculous that he needed to have you too.

You glance back over your shoulder to look at Ben seeing if he’s preparing another insult. He’s gone stick straight, his jaw clenched tightly, eyes dark, frown deepening.

Shit I was just kidding but-

You turn back to look at the door but can’t fight the tight feeling that rose in your chest when he looked at you like that.

Get a grip.

You interrupt the next bout of frantic knocking by opening the door.

A man in a rumpled navy suit stands out side the door, a bright blue quilted baby bag covered in elephants hangs from his left shoulder, a little girl holds on to his left hand, while a little boy screams shrilly and hangs from his right arm.

“Mr. Wilson- hi-“ You stutter, surprised. “Are you alright? Here-“ You reach to take his almost one year old son, Josh, from his arms. Josh continues to wail loudly, shaking his head back and forth.

“Can you please watch the kids?!” He says eyes frantically looking around the apartment behind you and focusing on Ben.

Mr. Wilson was another one of your neighbors, but he and his wife lived on the fifth floor. You’d met the Wilson’s by accident when Martha, the five year old holding on to his left hand wearing a bright pink tutu, decided to ride the elevator down to the lobby all by herself and met you while you were moving all your stuff into your apartment. She’d declared you her best friend as soon as she saw the colorful assortment of flowering plants you were lugging through the lobby of your apartment building in a cardboard box. You’d babysit for the Wilson’s sometimes when they needed a few quiet moments alone and on date nights. Not to mention they had a ton of money and paid almost five times per hour the amount you made in an hour working at “Please Don’t Die.”

Josh wails, his face turning bright red, so loud that Ben flinches behind you. You remember what he said about the supe that blew out his eardrums and can't help but feel a little sorry for him. Your own hearing was only a little better than other people's, but not enough to be as bothered as Ben.

“Hey little guy, its okay.” You coo gently bouncing Josh on your hip to make him stop crying. He sniffles and wraps his arms around your neck, gurgling quietly as he catches his breath.

“Y/n!” Martha shouts putting your right leg in a choke hold.

“Hi Marty.” You smile down at her, adjusting your weight so you don’t drop Josh. You look up at her father. “Mr. Wilson, I'm just not sure that now is the right time."

You think about Ben standing behind you and how horrified he looked when the children descended upon you, as if they were ticking time bombs. You weren't sure if you wanted Ben around kids, or if he had ever been around children before. He wasn't the best influence, not to mention you didn't think that he would be able to filter what he said or what he did around the,

“My wife she just-“ He swallows brown eyes wide. “She just went into labor."

"Oh. OH. Well-"

They had been expecting their third child for a while now, something that had resulted from you taking care of Josh and Martha more and more, and Mr. Wilson's promotion at work. You had learned before Mr. Wilson by accident when you reached down to pick up Josh's binky that was on the ground and your ear brushed against Mrs. Wilson's almost completely flat stomach and you heard the heartbeat.

“Please! I’ll pay you triple the hourly rate and her mother will be here tonight to take over for you.” The man looks close to getting on his knees and begging you. "You won't have them for long-"

Have a heart she’s going in to labor. What else is this poor man going to do? Drag the kids there with him? A part of you whispers. But then they'd be stuck here with Ben all day long. Well, maybe he will leave.

“Okay.” You relent with a sigh.

“Thank you!” Mr. Wilson exclaims shoving the bag into your free arm and then disappears from the doorway without saying goodbye to his children, but you were going to cut him some slack. You understood that when a woman went into labor most men didn't understand what to do with that information.

Shit. You grit your teeth to avoid saying it aloud when taking the bag throws you off balance. With one kid still hanging from your leg and the other one hanging from your neck, it was difficult to maneuver with the bag too.

Ben’s hand appears in your line of vision and he takes the bag, practically with one pinky.

“Show off.” You mutter, but turn your attention to the little girl hanging from your leg.

“I want a flower crown!” Martha crows.

“Okay sweetie just give me one second.” You take another step with her holding on to your leg.

“Now!”

“Martha.” Your voice turns stern as you look down at her and she pouts. "Please let me get Josh situated first."

“Fine.” She pouts and lets go of your leg.

The relief you feel is quickly overshadowed by Ben standing there, holding the diaper bag out from his body like it’ll bite him. Honestly you wished you had your phone ready to take a photo of Ben holding the bag, and then use it as blackmail.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Ben asks looking down at the two children confused.

“Shh language!” You snap, eyes widening as you look down at Martha and Josh. Josh has begun to pull your hair from the ponytail at the back of your neck.

"What language?"

You give Ben a death stare wincing when Josh yanks the hair tie out. Martha has let go of your leg and is looking up at Ben with the same fascination that you'd seen her look at Prince Charming from Cinderella.

Guess it works on girls of all ages.

You think about telling her that Ben might be charming from a distance, but he isn't anything like a prince. Honestly, you were more worried that Ben was going to act like a total dick and crush this little girl's heart.

"Hi." She waves her hand at him. "I'm Marty."

Ben stares down at her, as if he's deciding whether or not to say his name aloud. "Ben." His eyes flick back to yours. "What are you doing?"

"We have had the money conversation many times, but I guess you must be getting forgetful in your old age, so we can have it again." You smirk. "Some of us weren’t born with a silver spoon in our mouths or have a trust fund. I don’t have money, therefore, I babysit to get some extra cash sometimes. Hence the children.” You wave your free hand commanding the vines to open up the pantry and grab Josh's high chair out to set up for you. "I told you that I work several jobs."

"What do you mean several? You said that you worked for Butcher and plant guy." Ben huffs, still holding the bag.

"You know his name is Jake. And we live in America if you can't remember. You know? America home of the free, home of the brave single woman trying to make ends meet and pay for her crappy apartment by working fifty million jobs?" You begin to buckle Josh in to the high-chair. "But thanks for showing me how to fix the plumbing under the sink. Definitely going to add that to my job application.

"How many jobs do you have?"

"I mean it’s really what I do when I’m not working for Butcher. I works at the plant shop, I babysit, sometimes I’m a dog walker, oh and there’s this senior living facility a few blocks over that I run errands for when the people living there need me."

"You run errands for senior citizens? What kind of fucking person does that?"

"LANGUAGE! And this freaking person does that thank you. It's not all that bad. Plus I thought you were going to act like them when I first met you, but you are more h-a-n-d-s-y." You spell it out because you don't want the kids to say it. "Oh and I'm also a gardener."

"A gardener?"

"Sometimes." You shrug. "But now that you've met the kids, it's time for you to go."

“What?”

"I don't want him to go." Martha stomps her little foot enclosed in a bright pink sparkly flat.

You ignore her and reach for the table part of the high chair, strapping Josh in. He's wearing an adorable pair of overalls and a teddy bear t-shirt underneath. Despite his early hissy fit in his father's arms, Josh is smiling happily at you, his wild curly black hair sticking up in different directions. “I’m not going to let you be around a kid. You're barely on your best behavior around me."

“What do you think I’m gonna do?”

“I don’t know. Smoke a doobie, roll a doobie, make horrible life choices, drink, curse-“ You cross your arms over your chest and turn to face him, raising an eyebrow.

“You really don’t see me in a positive light.” He smirks at you. It's hard for him to pull off when he's still holding the bright blue bag covered in elephants. It was quilted, probably a knock off Vera Bradley, which only made you wish for your phone even more.

“No I do not.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Fine, just go watch TV in my room. But if you start going through my underwear drawer I swear I will cut off your D-I-C-K.” You spell the word and narrow your eyes, letting them flash bright green to emphasize your point.

Martha is still staring up at Ben, upset at the idea that he's going to go anywhere. "Wait y/n! Please let him stay, he can help me braid Betty's hair!" Betty was Martha's favorite doll, one that you were sure was in the sparkly backpack that hung across her back. Another photo opportunity you did not want to miss.

“I don’t want to go in there.” Ben states.

“Well that’s the first time you’ve ever said that. Usually you’re all for going in my room.” You huff, before turning to look down at Martha. "Alright, you want jasmine like last time? Or do you want some Lavender too?"

"Strawberries!" Martha exclaims.

"Strawberries!" Josh echoes, mashing his meaty fist on the tray not quite comprehending.

"Alright, but you remember. Our little secret right?"

Martha and Josh's parents didn't know you were a supe, they figured that you really liked plants and that Martha's occasional flower crowns came from you manually making them, not from you waving your hand and watching the stems weave together. You weren't sure how the Wilson's would react to finding out that you were a supe. They were more straight laced than you.

Probably also wouldn't like Ben hanging around if they knew who he really was. Actually I'm surprised that Mr. Wilson didn't ask more questions about Ben when he saw him.

Martha nods eagerly.

"Secret?" Ben asks.

"The Wilson's don't know I'm a supe." You murmur so only Ben can hear plucking a strawberry from the plant on your kitchen table. Secretly it was your favorite plant and it was much older than all the others in your apartment, encased in a hand-painted pot.

It was the first plant that you ever grew, sprouted from the chopped strawberries on your high chair tray when you were nine months old. Your parents had potted it inside the house and since then it had never wilted, and it never would. It meant everything to you, weird as that may be, strawberries were like a good luck charm and the plant that sat on your threadbare circular kitchen table was the symbol of your origin story.

"What do they think all the plants are?"

"They just think I like plants." Your eyes are glowing bright green allowing the strawberry in your hands begin to grow a stem and leaves, the stems weaving together to form a circle, sprouting small white flowers that ripen into red fruit, delicately intertwining to create the crown that Martha wants.

She squeals happily when you put it on her head and dances past Ben into the living room on tip-toe.

"You want one too Gramps?" You smirk at Ben.

"Tempting, but no."

"Alright." You look back at Josh, who has begun to chew on his chubby fist. "Are you hungry? I think you're hungry." You turn to look at Ben who is watching Martha do a mock impression of a ballerina with a horrified expression. "Ben can I see the bag?"

His head snaps in your direction. “Why?”

“Because it’s a magical bag with baby food in it.”

He holds it out and you snatch  it away.

“Geez. Calm down Petals.” Ben leans against the counter behind you watching you  methodically take out the jars. “Now what?”

“Well Sherlock, I’m going to feed the baby.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“I know! I know!” Martha screams jumping up with her hand in the air. “Oh please!”

You bite back the urge to laugh. “Yes Marty?” You act as if you're calling on her in class.

“He can help me make friendship bracelets!”

Ben scoffs and rolls his eyes while crossing his arms over his chest. “Like hell I’m gonna-“

*Twenty Minutes Later*

“Please tie another knot for me.”

“No.” Ben grunts

"You're funny." Martha laughs and hands Ben the elastic string so she can start another friendship bracelet.

She was wearing the one that she had spent the last twenty minutes on, a string of bright pink, light pink,  hot pink beads, and white pearly stars broken up by the name Marty. Ben had sat there the whole time next to her, pouting while occasionally throwing angry looks at you like it was your fault.

It's not.

You couldn’t understand why he stayed. You figured that he would leave to go on a date or try to escape as soon as Martha mentioned the words "friendship bracelet," but he hadn’t. He sat there at the kitchen table with Martha, whose little legs hung over the front of her chair, her face tight with concentration as she made friendship bracelets.

You’d taken two photos and you were very excited. But you’d been more focused on feeding Josh. He was still eating bits of strawberry and watermelon, but you would give him the occasional bite of teether.

Ben had looked like he was going to throw up when you broke off a piece for yourself.

It wasn't that bad. Kinda like eating a piece of flavored cardboard.

"You really like the watermelon huh?" You ask Josh taking another piece from the plastic container and cutting it up so it's small enough for him to eat.

"Waa waa." Josh mumbles picking up another piece. The red sticky juice was running down his little arms and each time you tried to wipe him off he would scream "No!"

You figured that he had learned that from Martha.

You hold out the circular Tupper-ware of watermelon out to Ben, who takes a piece, still frowning at you the whole time.

He's got to lighten up.

“Benny pick a color for me!” Martha says shuffling her fingers through the organized little boxes of her friendship bracelet kit, the beads rustling loudly against the plastic sides.

"It's Ben."

"Benny!" She whines. "Pick a color."

Ben sighs heavily as if she’d asked him to stab himself. He was probably considering that to get out of this hell. “Green.”

“Light green or dark green?”

“I don’t give a-“

“Ben.” You growl under your breath staring at him.

He sighs again sinking lower in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. “Dark green.”

When Martha finishes the bracelet it has light green, dark green, and black beads with brilliant pearly white stars and the name Ben spelled out on the strand. She hands it to him. “This is for you. Now we’re best friends forever.” Her face turns serious. “Guard it with your life.”

Ben holds the bracelet between his thumb and index finger, frowning down at it. For a second you hope that he’s not going to throw it away in front of Martha. You noticed that she was trying to impress him the best she could and even you had to admit that her bracelet making skills were unmatched. You were also a little jealous. She didn’t make one for you.

But then Ben does something you didn’t think you’d ever see him do, but puts it on. “Thanks.” He grunts and Martha’s smile is so wide you’re sure it would blind anyone in a ten mile radius.

You’re surprised, so surprised that you drop the watermelon you had been holding on the ground.

What in the actual fuck is happening? He’s being so nice to her.

“Y/n, pick a color!” Martha shouts handing Ben another piece of elastic to tie a knot in.

“Um- light green.” You say, but you can't look away from Ben.

Am I hallucinating?

You were so shocked at his behavior. Yes he was still being a little bit of a dick, but he hadn't done anything that bad in the time that the children had been here, just occasionally curse.

The bracelet that Martha makes you looks a bit like Ben’s, except you have light green, dark green, purple, and black beads with white pearly stars broken up by your name.

"Thank you Marty." You smile at her and roll it on your wrist.

"Y/n?"

"Yes sweetie?"

"I have to go to the bathroom." She stands from the chair and hops from foot to foot. "I don't want to go by myself, the hallway is scary!"

"Oh okay." As soon as you get up Josh begins to wail, face turning bright red as he does, pounding his little fists against the tray of the high chair, sending pieces of strawberry and watermelon flying everywhere.

Oh shit.

"Hey it's okay Joshie." You unclip him from the high chair and pull him into your arms, bouncing him to make him stop crying.

"Y/nnnnnnnnnn!" Martha whines, continuing to hop from foot to foot. "I really have to go."

"Well I- um." Your eyes dart to where Ben is still sitting at the kitchen table, cringing slightly when Josh gives another particularly loud wail.

Am I really about to do this?

"Ben can you take him for just a second."

"What?" Ben's eyes widen.

"Please? I have to take Marty to the bathroom."

"She can't go by herself? Suck it up or whatever?"

"It's dark Benny!" Martha cries, peering around him down the hallway. "I don't want to go by myself."

"But-" Ben begins to say.

"Please Ben." You plead.

He curses under his breath. "Fine." He stands up and takes Josh from your arms, holding him away from his body in the air with both hands like Josh is a live grenade, which only makes him scream louder.

Martha grabs your hand and begins to drag you down the hallway, while Ben grimaces at the wriggling child in his arms. "Try holding him against your chest." You say to him as Martha continues to pull you towards your small bathroom.

I am definetly getting a night light for this hallway. Then again, she doesn't even like it when the lights are on. She said that the yellow glow looked "creepy." But I don't think I should leave Josh alone with Ben. What if he drops him or kills him or- shit why did I do this.

As soon as Martha is finished and has washed her hands you return to the kitchen prepared for the worst, but then you see Ben. His back is to you, but he's gently bouncing Josh in his arms who giggles happily over Ben's shoulder at you.

"See you just need to man up." You hear Ben say. "The ladies don't like a man who cries kid, take it from me."

You smile to yourself. And if you thought that Ben was gorgeous before, Ben standing with a baby making a baby smile, makes something primal at the back of your mind begin to stir and unfortunately makes every plant in your general vicinity burst into bloom. The smell of gardenia, hibiscus, honeysuckle, and lavender hitting you in a strong wave as they do. You weren't sure what instinct it was, all you knew was that the image of Ben and the baby would be very  difficult to wipe from your mind.

"Did you miss me Benny?" Martha shouts coming up behind him, her strawberry crown still perched over her dark braids.

"Um." Ben turns around to look at where you're standing at the edge of the kitchen. He looks a little sheepish, like he didn't want you to catch him with a kid.

That's understandable. Hughie told me how he reacted to seeing a diaper commercial. The guy just doesn't seem to be the most gentle or really loving. And yet look at how he is with Josh.

"Of course he did Marty." You smile rubbing her back. "Right?"

"Sure." Ben sighs, but then he lifts his gaze back up to you. "You shouldn't call her that." Ben grunts.

"Why not?"

"You keep calling her a man's name and everyone is gonna think she's a boy."

You kick Ben hard in the shin.

"Ow. What the fu-" Ben snaps, eyes blazing.

"Marty, why don’t you pick out a movie you want to watch, anything you want." You smile sweetly at her, ignoring Ben's angry glare.

"Anything I want?" She exclaims, eyes bright.

"Anything you want."

She squeals happily and runs to the couch, disrupting Bean who had been watching with contempt from the cushions that line the back. He didn't like the kids as much as Ben did. Bean leaps off the couch and vanishes down the hallway before Martha can catch him.

"I call her that because she asked  me to Ben. Don’t say things like that to a five-year old. In fact don't stuff like that at all. It's 2024 not 1920."

"What does that mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean." You frown at him.

"Fine." Ben huffs and rolls his eyes.

"Why are you still here? I thought that you were going to go on a date or whatever it is you do when you're not being forced to work for Butcher?" You say taking Josh from Ben, who fights you as you rub a wipe against his sticky cheeks.

"I didn't want you to be outnumbered Petals." Ben smirks.

"Uh-huh. Sure. Admit it, you really wanted a friendship bracelet."

Ben leans closer to whisper in your ear. "As soon as she leaves, this is going in the trash."

But for some reason you don’t believe him, but at the same time you didn't care, because you had photo evidence on your phone of Soldier Boy  making friendship bracelets.

The opening song of Frozen begins to play from the tv behind you and you smile mischievously at Ben.

Now he's in for it.

"You're gonna wish you left Gramps." You snort.

"What do you mean-" Ben starts to say.

And then Martha begins to sing.

After a stunning  and masterful performance of the Frozen movie done by Martha that included singing, dancing, and screaming the dialogue back at the tv, followed by Frozen 2, both Josh and Martha have fallen asleep just as the Aristocats began to play, leaving you and Ben to sit in the blessed silence of your apartment with the movie playing quietly in the background.

You were all sitting on the couch, Josh was sleeping on top of you, his little head buried in your left shoulder, while Martha curled up beside you, covered in one of your crochet blankets. Ben was sitting on the other side of Martha, leaning back and avoiding any contact with her feet that occasionally twitched while she slept, scrolling on his phone.

As much as Ben had hated the performance, you think that he might have actually liked Frozen. He'd noted that Elsa was hot, which Martha didn't quite understand and stated "No silly she's cold."

But then Ben followed up the observation by saying "You know, I knew this supe that looked exactly like her, who did this thing with her tong-" and you'd clamped your hand over his mouth and hissed "the kids are too young for that. Frankly I am too." Ben had only smirked at you and for the first time since you'd seen him do that, you smiled.

You didn't think that Ben had been paying attention, given that he had been scrolling on his phone through the entire movie, but he was. Because when Hans betrayed Anna Ben muttered "what a dick" under his breath.

Butcher had called during Frozen 2 and Ben had taken it in the hallway, filling you in quietly when he got back. Tomorrow Butcher wanted the two of you to infiltrate the party and see if the supe showed up to steal any of the cars.

It sounded like a solid plan, but it also meant that you were going to be on a mission alone with Ben, wearing God knows what. The last time Frenchie had stolen a dress for you wear on a mission, you'd practically had a heart attack when you first put it on and then made Annie go instead. You hoped that this time Frenchie got you something a little more, you. But you doubted it.

Plus the whole idea is to not be you genius.

“You’re really good with them.” Ben murmurs from his seat on the other side of the couch interrupting your chain of thought.

“You sound surprised.” You whisper back gently rubbing Josh's back with your hand. “And here I thought you were going to make a misogynistic comment about me having to be good with kids because I’m a woman.”

“I thought about it.” He shrugs shooting you an easy grin that makes you roll your eyes.

“Wouldn’t have expected anything less Gramps.”

You'd be lying if you said you weren't enjoying Ben try to act normal around the children. You liked watching him be all uncomfortable and awkward, especially because he prided himself on being a "big strong man." It was the same look he got in his eyes whenever Mike's mother cornered him.

“So have you been around kids before?” He asks.

“No. I never had any younger siblings, just my older brother. Were you ever around kids?”

You barely knew anything about Ben or his life before becoming Soldier Boy, just all the propaganda that Vought fabricated about his early life. He had called you guarded but he definitely seemed to keep everything closer to his chest. Sometimes you found yourself wishing that he would tell you more. You wanted to know more about him, but another part of you told you that it was a bad idea. You were getting too close to Ben, developing feelings for him, and you knew that it wouldn’t end well.

“Not people I knew. Vought used to send me on tours around America, talking to assemblies at schools.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Do you-“ Ben pauses considering. “Like kids?”

“I mean I like that I get paid to watch them but-“ You look down at the children quietly sleeping between the two of you. “I like these two. I think it kinda depends on the kid.”

He nods and turns his head back towards the tv. Thomas O'Malley has started his song, sauntering along to the tune.

Is it wrong that I think Ben has Thomas O'Malley vibes? Or Kovu from Lion King 2 vibes?

You thought about texting Annie that exact question, but you didn't want to tell her how you spent your day babysitting with Ben. You knew that it would only bring on another onslaught of photoshopped baby pictures and potential baby names.

“Do you want kids?”

“Huh?” You glance over at Ben who is watching you curiously. He was doing that thing again where he acted completely different than how he acted around the team, had been doing it all day long.

“Um-“ You contemplate. “I’m not sure. I’m kinda young or well in my head I am. I think I’d want to wait a little bit.”

“But you do?” He presses.

Why does he want to know that so badly?

“I kinda see myself as a mom.”

Ben’s eyes are studying you. “I think you’d be a good mom.”

The compliment makes you inhale in surprise. Ben had been acting weird all day long, being nice to Martha, wearing the bracelet she made him, sitting with her to watch a movie and listening to her recount the lore behind it. He was being uncharacteristically patient and kind. For another moment you see the possibility of Ben being more than just an angry, horny, jerk, and you try hard not to give in.

“Do you want kids?” You whisper back.

Ben’s expression darkens and he turns back towards the tv, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t say anything for a good two minutes, the silence awkwardly growing between the two of you. “I did.”

“With Countess right?”

He looks at you surprised.

“Hughie told me.” You bite the inside of your cheek. “I’m sorry Ben.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. You’re not the bi-“ He stops and looks down at the kids who are still sleeping silently. “You’re not her, Petals. You don’t have to be.”

“I know that, but still. What she did was shitty.” You whisper the curse word. “You didn’t deserve that. Any of it.”

It was the first time you’d said that to Ben. The first time the two of you would have a conversation about his life before you met him, the life that he seemed to want to forget. You couldn't blame him for that. In fact, the two of you had barely talked before these past few days other than the occasional tease or Ben’s attempt to get you into bed with him. And it was actually kind of nice, learning more about him.

Josh gurgles quietly and you adjust him in your arms, gently rocking him for a moment. Martha stirs but then leans further against your right arm cuddling up against it.

Ben watches you for a minute with the same expression he has when he seems to be unable to understand you and then the mask slips for just a moment, enough for you to see something genuine in his eyes. "Thank you." He murmurs.

"You’re welcome." You reply with a small smile as you turn back to watch the movie, aware of Ben's gaze on you.  "Then again I should be thanking you. I couldn't have made it through today without that coffee."

Ben chuckles and leans back against the couch cushions. "You're welcome Petals."

Mr. Wilson's mother in-law shows up to take the kids just as the movie finishes. Ben and you stand there for a moment in the aftermath taking a breath and when you smile at him, Ben actually smiles back.

But before you can ask Ben if he wants to order a pizza or something, he states that he has a date and not to wait up for him as he shrugs into his leather jacket.

And when he goes you try not to notice how quiet the apartment is and how empty it seems without him in it.

A/N: Alright the angst will begin to come NEXT chapter, probably, I promise... I just couldn't get this silly little idea out of my head and I thought why not?

As always thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist or if I missed you on the taglist please let me know :)

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[tarjapearce]

Okay, what if— bare with me-

Miguel is eating out mama, it’s the middle of the night and they’re going at it quietly when one of the kids wakes up and knocks on their confused to why there can hear mama whining and worried whether she’s okay or not

🫣🫣🫣🫠

Please write it I’m going feral

Ah the kiddos ~ 🤭

Bit of nsfw undercut

Hope you like it, nonny ✨

Your fingers clenched on the sheets, knuckles turned white the more he pressed his mouth on that sweet little nub his tongue was devouring without a truce.

Miguel didn't need to explain how much he had missed you, your touch, your taste all over his mouth, the way your thighs wrapped around his neck to trap him in place, for him to keep going.

And he would, he had to beg for a taste, with a single condition.

Keep it quiet.

So far he was committed to his end of the agreement, giving occasional grunts that melted into mind numbing vibrations on your throbbing nub. His nostrils often blew air after lapping and devouring a specific part of your flesh. He kept it quiet.

But God, his tongue was set into making you break your own rule. Specially when his mouth cupped your whole slit and tasted like a starved man while his hands squeezed and massaged your thighs.

An exhale escaped through your clenched teeth, but your throat immediately constricted to muffle an incoming moan

"M-Miguel"

Your trembling voice hiccuped, he was far from being done and you were already melting in his mouth.

Be it the lack of sex for the past months due to Rosie's needs, and his job that added itself to the list as another cockblocker.

"I missed you, mi amor"

He hummed at your hushed and needy words and your head lolled back, his fingers squished open your folds further, exposing as much skin as possible to delve a languid and tortuous lick on your clit.

A whimper.

Good. He was on the right track.

Big palms pushed your thighs upwards while his thumbs kept your glistening folds parted, exposing his delicious prize even further.

Your hands immediately flew to your mouth covering a sudden wail as his lips trapped your clit and pursed to suck in slow yet powerful motions.

His hazed smirk deepened upon feeling your spine arching, and your thighs trembling.

"You're fucking delicious, mi reina"

Fuck silence, it felt too good to no let your husband know his performance was absolutely majestic.

"Please, please-"

You mumbled in slurred moans, even sunk your hand on his head, to then tangle your fingers in his silky smooth strands.

"R-Right there" you croaked between shaky moans. You really tried to keep it low, but it was impossible cause he loved eating every single meal you prepared for him, but you were his absolute favorite. There was no discussion about it.

His mouth belonged to none else but you, and he let you guide him. You finally stopped him on that spot that had your mouth open, gasping and gaping for air.

A delicious spark ran through your body, to finally set ablaze that fire that consumed you through like a wildfire; pushing you to the most pleasurable of abyss that earned him a delicious yet loud mewl of his name.

A proud and shit-eating grin plastered all over his face.

"Mama?" Benjamin's sleepy yet concerned voice echoed in the other side.

His hand immediately covered your mouth as your body fell apart underneath him, muffling your little cries. Eyes wide as they darted towards the door.

"Told you to keep quiet, mi amor."

You were too high on pleasure to even reply.

With a quick kiss he stood and fixed his erection underneath his pants and draped the sheets over you. Then, he wiped his mouth and went to the door to open it.

Benjamin's head craned to meet his Papa's gaze. A tinge of red on his nose, as if he was about to cry out of concern.

"Is Mama ok?"

"Of course she is, Campeón. She was having a bad dream."

"I heard her crying." Benjamin peeked his head out of the door frame to see a tucked in you.

"See? She's fine. Let's get you to bed, yeah?"

His boy nodded and went to his room. Miguel quickly washed his hands and face to soothe the flush in his skin.

Then tucked in Benjamin and returned to the room and locked the door. His red eyes set into you.

Your head snapped to him, and the crawl in your skin felt delicious. You knew he was far from being over with you.

"The kids will hear" you warned with a smirk in your lips as he prowled his way to you, removing the sheets out of your overheated body.

He shook his head and removed his clothes.

"They'll hear you, but don't worry. I'll keep you quiet."

His thumb outlined your lips and he kissed you deeply.

"Where did we left off?"

[shibaraki]

THE VANISHING MOON ┊ TSUKISHIMA KEI

tags: GN reader, post timeskip, exes to lovers, fluff, emotional hurt + comfort, reader is a writer, alcohol consumption, mutual pining, getting back together, kisses, weddings, previous ‘mutual’ breakup, happy ending

wc: 4.2K

For as long as you can remember, you’ve loved love stories.

The first time you picked up a pen with the intention to write you’d been looking for a specific someone. To pour love into and be loved by. Conjured from the recesses of your mind, a soft smile from the boy you liked, one prepared to whisk you away from the converging angst that came with your adolescence.

In later years you looked inward, searching for yourself. To satiate your loneliness through self introspection. Ink blotted fingers working arduously at the knots that make up the soul. Knots that were once straight rope, simple and without weak points. And when you failed to love yourself you turned outward, exploring the web that made up the world.

You saw that other people loved stories, too. That there would always be at least one which speaks to them in some way and stays with them. You coveted that reality; to be something another person could love, and look back on with fondness. For your words to strike such a chord that they’d become part of another’s tapestry. To live on. Never again be forgotten, even if it means being an echo of something.

That yearning accompanies you up the cobbled footpath. The crisp air pinching the tips of your ears. Soft, muted chirps rippled throughout the treeline. “Wow,” you murmur, breathless. Arms sticky with perspiration, leg muscles tingling in exertion after walking the steep hill.

The reception venue sits on the end of a private road, concealed by threadbare canopy. Under an open sky there lay every shade and stroke of colour. Dappled sunlight casts shadows across the grass and your eyes are drawn to them.

“Wow is right. They’ve done an incredible job,” Sugawara airs his appreciation as he walks at your side. His voice is awed, and his cheeks are red. “I can’t believe they managed it. Karumai Gardens are notoriously stingy for booking events”.

The wedding invitation shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Remaining some of your closest friends, Kiyoko and Tanaka had already confirmed your attendance long before the formal invites were sent out. You even found yourself on the end of multiple phone calls over the months assisting a panicked Tanaka with writing and rewriting his vows.

Despite that, your stomach roiled at the invitation on your kitchen counter, and your heart crawled up into your throat. Because suddenly it was too real.

Everybody would be there.

Tsukishima would be there.

You’ve been a high strung for most of the day, hyper vigilant to the point of fraying. The ceremony was beautiful. Kiyoko looked ethereal draped in her white lace gown, a delicate veil cascading down her back and rippling down the aisle as she walked. Tanaka was striking in his dark blue suit and embroidered waistcoat. Sitting at the forefront, you remained steadfast in your ignorance of Tsukishima’s scrunity and dabbed at your face as you cried.

You missed having his attention. Missed the subtle stroke of his sharp gold eyes across every part of you as though it were Tsukishima’s hands themselves. A scant, cowardly part of you considered not attending the reception, grateful that he hadn’t approached you yet. If he would at all. Kei could be unbearably prideful about these things. But what do you know?

Nothing. After all this time you probably know nothing at all.

“I think he wants to talk to you,” Sugawara says, drawing your focus to the present. “It’s obvious he’s missed you”.

You edge past the increasingly dense foliage with intent, your fingertips outstretched to brush the near-blooming plants. “Who?” you ask. Sugawara’s grin turns wry and he threads his arm through yours.

“So petty,” he murmurs, patting your bicep. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But he’s single, and has been staring at you all day. I thought I should mention it”.

“Well you’ve mentioned it,” you return without true malice, squeezing him back. Sugawara’s lips parted in a sigh, and for a brief second, you saw a wistful expression beneath the lighthearted veneer. It stirs unease in your chest and you add, “I just don’t want to make a scene”.

“You really think that’s what it’ll come to?”

Memories unearthed from the deep recesses of your mind. Packed away into tight spaces and left to collect dust where they can’t hurt you. They awaken easily, triggered by a simple question, and with such clarity that you wonder if you ever forgot them at all.

Soft, deliberate touches. Long, warm embraces, swallowed up by his large frame. Graceless laughter—the ugly kind that makes your stomach hurt. Languorous kisses, biting kisses, chaste kisses, clumsy kisses. Good morning and good night kisses. Bickering over breakfast. Bickering over dinner. Wandering, calloused hands. Pressure behind two fingers, splitting you like soft fruit. A sharp tongue and sharper words. Holding hands in bed, anchoring yourself to him like you were afraid he might float away in the night.

Life became busier than either of you expected. Kei landed an opportunity to play for a division two team in the V league alongside his work at the Sendai city museum. Your publisher's demands increased. Kei’s priorities shifted. Resentment crept in. He started to forget things. Small promises and favours, like getting the grocery’s or making it home for date night. They felt so significant at the time—things you deemed indicative of his commitment to you, without communicating as such.

Fractures formed in your relationship. You ignored them in favour of keeping the peace, hoping to address them when the timing was better. Only with hindsight can you say that was the wrong choice. The fractures contracted, expanded until it grew into a yawning cavity with one of you standing either side of it. A slow decay.

“No. No, it wouldn’t,” you tell Sugawara. Tsukishima has never been a shining paragon of virtue but he wouldn't do anything to disrupt Tanaka’s wedding. “I’m just nervous. I haven’t seen him since…”

Sugawara hums his acknowledgment. You’re adrift as he guides you into the venue holding the wedding reception, welcomed into a kaleidoscope of colour. Carefully crafted floral arrangements line the hall. Half of the building is a greenhouse conversion, and natural light filters in through the high, arching ceilings, illuminating the dance floor. You take in the surroundings as your senses are enveloped by the pleasant din.

“Look, there’s Yachi and Nishinoya,” Sugawara tugs on your arm and calls out, “Yachi! Noya!”

Nishinoya crowed, leaping forward to gather you and Sugawara into a blistering hug. Barely two extra inches on him yet larger than you remember, skin kissed by the sun and his hair handsomely coiffed. His waistcoat creases awkwardly with the stretch of his body while you sink into his warmth and feel your cheeks ache.

“Man, I feel like I could scale a mountain! It’s so good to see you guys again,” Nishinoya reclines to get a look at you both and firmly takes you by the shoulders. “You have a lot to answer for,” he says with mock seriousness.

“I do?” you laugh, skull knocking side to side as he shakes you.

“I read your book on the plane”.

Your laughter putters out. You grimace and clear your throat, “Oh—really?”

“Most of us have. We wanted to support you properly,” Yachi admits as she steps forward to hug you. She’s smiling when she pulls away, faint laughter lines deepening.

Sugawara nods and pokes at your waist, “Don’t look so embarrassed. It was amazing”.

“It made me cry!” Nishinoya effuses. He sniffs, and to your mortification he looks like he might burst into tears again. “There was this one line—gah, no! I can’t talk about it. Get over here, I need to hug you again”.

“Thank you, Noya-san,” you wheeze at the arms constricting around your midsection, eyes clenched shut to repress the impending sting. You turn your head, nose knocking against his temple as you peer at the others. “Thank you all. I mean it”.

Yachi squirms, her smile quivering. “I’m really happy you made it today,” she says once you’ve been released. The unyielding pressure of Nishinoya’s embrace lingers like two phantom limbs. “You too, Nishinoya-san”.

“It’s amazing you’re upright. I thought for sure the jet lag would get to you,” Sugawara laughs. He utters a quick apology to the server passing with a tray of drinks. “Didn’t you fly in from Barcelona?”

“Yeah. Should’a been heading to Andorra but I wouldn’t miss my bro’s wedding for the world,” Nishinoya’s voice drifts as his eyes follow the alcohol. He plucks a glass in one swift motion and holds it high, “Salut I força al canut!”

Yachi watches him throw back the drink with poorly veiled anxiety. “Ah, speaking of, we should find our seats. It looks like the cake cutting is starting soon”.

“Good call. We’re getting in the way of the preparations. And I think you’ve left Asahi alone for too long,” Sugawara claps Nishinoya on the shoulder. “Looks like he’s been accosted by Saeko-san”.

Nishinoya pivots on his heel, whip-like and buzzing. You’re not sure which name he reacted to more. Asahi or Saeko. “Where?” his gaze locks in on the pair across the room. “I’ll talk to you guys in a bit!”

Gone in a blink. “He never slows down,” Sugawara sighs, shaking his head fondly. “Guess that’s my cue,” he says before parting ways. Yachi waves after them.

An idea strikes you then. “Say, Yacchan. You’re next to me, right?” you glance toward the long tables set up around the dance floor and meet her gaze with a suggestive smile. “Would you want to sit next to Yamaguchi instead? I don’t mind swapping”.

Their relationship had blossomed over the past few months. A long, slow burn finally come to fruition, new enough that mention of it usually makes her turn pink. But the light in her eyes dims at your suggestion, and rather than flustered, Yachi looks uncertain.

Her fingers form a loose clasp around your forearm. “Tadashi is seated next to Tsukishima,” she explains gingerly. You feel yourself freeze and the kind motion of her thumb strokes circles along the inside of your wrist.

You let out a shaky exhale. “That’s okay. I don’t mind,” you tell her before the consequences of what you’re offering can really be cemented. Yachi’s eyes widen, her grip tighter on your hand as you squeeze back in an attempt at reassurance, knowing your smile looks brittle. “It’s probably for the best. We haven’t… talked yet”.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure”.

“Are you sure you’re sure?”

“Hitoka,” you laugh, bumping your shoulders together. “I promise I’ll survive”.

You regret it not two minutes later.

Anticipation fizzes under your skin as you spot him. On approach you give him a cursory look over, the harsh beat of your heart ricocheting in your chest. Tsukishima looks good—he always does, but today, dressed in his dark, double breasted suit, with the golden hour light carding fingers through his neatly styled hair, you think he’s never looked better.

It is disconcerting to see him again and realise that your feelings haven’t changed much in the slightest.

You sit in the chair beside him. You see his spine draw taut in the corner of your eye and feel an oscillating loneliness; so alike those final few weeks together that cold dread seeps between the spaces in your ribs and steals your breath.

“Tsukishima,” you incline your head, impersonal and cautious, hating how foreign his surname is on your tongue.

A beat passes before he repeats your name in greeting, soft as a psalm despite the dour expression on his face. You’re overcome with the urge to poke the uncomfortable crease in his brow. To smooth it out and kiss the skin there, the way you used to do.

You shift in your seat. The arms curve around your midsection and knock against your elbows as you fiddle with the table cloth, “I told Yacchan that Yamaguchi could have my seat so they can sit together. I hope that’s alright”.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” and you know the clipped answer is reflexive by the way his jaw locks in frustration at himself. Bracing for what you’ll say next.

Only, your mouth curls up a little, and you exhale a short laugh through your nose. You haven’t seen him this skittish since your first year of highschool. You consider that maybe you aren’t the only one who’s scared. That things are the same and they are not the same. The thought is bittersweet, but it’s nice, the way his trepidation gives way to muted awe, how he sends you sidelong glances when he thinks you’re not looking.

The music picks up in a grand crescendo as the newlyweds enter the hall and the reception begins with a raucous applause. A rich aroma unfurls as the food is served, the depth of the flavour layering over the already present notes of wildflower and honey. Drinks are handed to the guests. Generously. You swirl the liquid gold around the rim of your glass, luxuriating in the syrupy inebriation of a gently oaked chardonnay.

“So, uh. How’ve you been?”

Tsukishima, to his credit, does not startle at the question. “Fine,” he says, and you think he might leave it at that when he adds, “The museum received another new Crinoid collection last month, so I’ve been preoccupied”.

You grasp at the conversational thread, not wanting him to stop, “Crinoids?”

“Marine animals. They still exist today, though not as common. You might’ve heard of sea lilies and feather stars,” he shrugs halfheartedly, not daring to look away from his deep fried tofu, though it’s clear he can’t help talking about his work with pride. “Ours are from the Triassic period”.

“Just like the, uh—” you click your fingers to conjure the name from thin air “—Gojirasaurus! Your favourite, right?”

Tsukishima pauses. It’s a fleeting thing, but you notice. The corner of his lips curves into a barely-there smile. He seems pleased that you remembered. You busy your hands with repositioning the cutlery a fourth time so maybe, hopefully, you can distract yourself enough not to say something stupid like: “If I visit, will you show it to me?” or “Do you miss me, like I miss you?”

You clear your throat. “I hear the Sendai Frogs have been doing well, too. Congratulations on moving up to division one”.

Those aureate eyes are sliding to you again, bright and searching. Tsukishima arches his brow in a delicate mocking gesture that was unbearable when he was sixteen and even more so now. “Keeping tabs on me, are you?”

There’s mirth trickling into his voice, giving it a familiar smarmy lilt. A wave of emotion washes over you. Embarrassment and heart-twisting-happiness. You shove some rice into your mouth and chew it down to fine paste, vying for time to formulate a coherent sentence. “No. I read about it in the latest Volleyworld issue,” you reply unconvincingly.

“You don’t read Volleyworld”.

“How would you know that?”

Tsukishima takes a shallow breath and nods. The warm gloam of late afternoon mellows his taut features. “I’ve been reading too,” he says after another sip of wine. “I saw you finally published your book”.

Dread seized the inner workings of your mind and the apology on the tip of your tongue curdles. Time ticks by, one sickening second after another. Your eyes dip low to avoid his gaze—which for some reason, he refused to direct anywhere else.

Your recollection of the break up itself was hazy at best. There had been no raised voices, no desperate movie-esque kiss, no slammed doors. Only grief filling your body like lead, and jumbled, half-hysterical thoughts of ‘Is this it? Are we giving everything up, just like that?’

You remember everything that followed, though. The inability to accept reality. It is said if a writer falls in love, that love can never die. And so you kept writing, and writing, and writing; perceiving love through different lenses, creating different endings; relying on metaphors of natural forces and disasters, of cannibalism and gluttony, of journeys and patience to make sense of it all. Six months after everything fell apart you completed the final draft of ‘The Vanishing Moon’, dedicating a final testimony to him in small print on the first page.

Given the choice, I would’ve rather had you at my side than any one of these words.

Has he seen it? Is that what he’s getting at? Did he read through all eighteen chapters and meticulously pick out the remnants of him you pressed between the pages?

“Noya said it made him cry,” you eventually reply.

Tsukishima signals for another drink. He takes two flutes from the server, handing one to you. You accept it with a soft ‘thanks’, hoping he didn’t notice the tremor in your fingers. “Nishinoya-san cried when he found out swans can be gay,” he points out.

“You cried at The Land Before Time”.

“What kind of cold hearted bastard doesn’t cry at The Land Before Time?”

Laughter bubbles up in your chest as the initial dread ebbs away and the tension seeps from your shoulders. Tsukishima dips his chin, a small smile as he mutters, “That’s better”.

In the centre of the hall Tanaka cradles Kiyoko in his arms, now surrounded by clusters of their loved ones whirling with their own partners, a hurricane of colour and laughter and love. Tsukishima observes them with a solemn gleam in his eye. That could’ve been us, his heart says in chorus with your own.

“Do you remember that time we danced together in third year, at the summer festival? I tried to kiss you and gave you a nosebleed”.

“I remember”.

Your gaze drops to the bottom of your glass. At the time you had been mortified. Now it’s a story you would share at your own wedding table. The thought cleaves your heart in half.

“Do you remember the song that was playing?”

“Why are you bringing this up?” Tsukishima snaps. “Yes, I remember everything. I couldn’t forget even if I wanted to. Happy?”

There’s a surge of something devastating in your chest, like love and heartbreak all at once, strong enough that you feel as if your ribs might splinter just to make room for it. But they don’t—and you don’t, because you’ve felt this before, and your body remembers.

You remember.

Suddenly the room is too hot, and the music is too loud. “Sorry. I’ll be back in a minute,” you murmur, pushing your chair back and getting to your feet.

“Wait,” in one short breath there are long, calloused fingers circling your wrist. You do wait. Tsukishima hesitates, the pressure elevates, and as you lean away your palm slips into his, skin kissing skin. Then he’s standing, towering over you. “I’ll come with you. I know a place that’s quiet”.

Tsukishima does not let go of your hand, and you don’t let go of his. He walks a few steps ahead guiding you through the throngs of people. Some familiar heads turn, their attention drawn immediately to the place where your bodies meet, and shooting you various looks of encouragement or confusion. Yamaguchi sees you pass and his mouth splits into a grin so wide that his eyes crinkle.

You’re not sure where it is he’s taking you, only that his promise of finding quiet is true. The cacophony simmers and soon enough the festivities are muffled entirely. Just when you think you’ve wound up at the end of a corridor it curves, leading to a pair of french doors. “Come on,” Tsukishima ushers you out onto a balcony.

What you’re greeted by makes your breath catch. The world as it is around you comes to a standstill, the fabric of reality peeling away. An orange yolk dips below the horizon and the sunset hour drapes across the ostensibly endless meadow hidden behind the Karumai Gardens. Rolls of grass sway in the wind, peppered with wildflowers of every shade.

You move to stand at the balcony’s edge. Tsukishima drops his hand, and your fingers curl into your palm. The shadows grow longer, the air cooler. The evening insects begin to sing. You’re warmed still by the wine thrumming in your bloodstream.

“Hey, Tsukki?”

He comes to stand beside you, folding his arms atop the wall. “Don’t call me that”.

“Oh,” you swallow against the swell in your throat. “Sorry, Tsukishima”.

Tsukishima’s expression twists into a scowl. There’s a blush creeping toward his ears. “I didn’t mean that,” he says. You blink and wait for him to elaborate, which only flusters him further. He stares stubbornly at the border. “Just—call me as you normally would. Anything else sounds wrong in your mouth”.

The name leaves you in an instant. Hushed—not whispered, “…Kei”.

He makes an inquisitive noise, strangled as it is.

“You didn’t say what you thought of it,” you continued. “My book”.

You feel a rush of adrenaline when Kei doesn't answer immediately, unable to read his expression. “Good,” he says, veiled indifference belied by the restless twisting of a cufflink between his forefinger and thumb. “It was good”.

“Well, that’s practically a Pulitzer recommendation coming from you”.

“Shut up,” he huffed, gaze flitting across your face and dropping to your tentative, uncertain beginning of a smile. He wets his lips and glances away. Heartened, both by the alcohol and his reciprocation, you press closer in small increments, and Kei flowers under your gentle persuasion, like he always used to.

“This okay?”

In lieu of a reply you are ensconced by a warm, firm chest and two strong arms around your back that show no sign of withdrawing. The low timbre of his voice vibrates under your cheek, “Who was it for?”

“Hm?”

“The book. You dedicated it to someone”.

You exhale, squeezing your eyes shut. You’re glad, in part, that he can’t see the emotion written plainly on your face. “Nobody,” you answer lightly, angling to position your ear right over his beating heart. “Just an ex. You don’t know him”.

“Right,” Kei says, drawing out the ‘l’ the way he does when conceding a point he knows he’s correct about. It sounds so fond that you want to curl up where you’re resting, like some benevolent cat. “Guy must’ve been a dick”.

“I was too. We made a lot of mistakes, I think,” you say. If nothing came of this you would at least be able to revisit it; to pick at the scab and stop the wound from closing over too soon. There’s comfort in that. You crane your head and meet his gaze, nervous but unwavering. “But even if he was kind of a dick, I miss him a lot”.

“Yeah?” his eyes soften, half lidded and dark. “He misses you too”.

“He told you that, did he?” your mouth trembles. Kei dips to bring your foreheads together, and the hard frame of his glasses bumps your eyebrow. You share a shaky exhale of laughter.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, brow pinched with regret. Again, “I’m sorry. I know I fucked up”.

You feel your jaw quiver. The familiar burn behind your eyes. Tears so close you can taste them. “We both did. Don’t shoulder the blame on your own”.

“But I made you feel lonely,” he says.

You tuck your chin and whisper, “Yes”.

His fingers splayed across your cheek, pinky tucked beneath your jaw as he cradled your face in his hand, tilting until you’re staring back at the reflection in his pupils. Puffy and damp, eyelashes clumped with tears. What a sight.

Kei strokes his thumb in an arc beneath your eye. A tear beads on his nail, slipping into the crook of his hand. The inexpressible tenderness is overwhelming yet you are underwhelmed by the inaction. You can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed by the whine in your voice as you ask, “Are you going to kiss me?”

“Demanding as ever. What happened to ‘please’?” he murmurs. And then he kisses you.

It is slow at first, hesitant, leaving room for you to pull away. But with every languid movement of Kei’s lips came a sweet affirmation, that which you took and took until you no longer felt unworthy of receiving it. His hand flutters at your waist. You take a shuddered breath, pressing closer into his embrace and deepening the kiss. In his distraction you take him by the wrist, encouraging him to touch. There’s an immediate, reverent grip at your hip, kneading over your clothes.

This is what you’d been longing for. The feeling you couldn’t transpose; that which people have long tried to capture. The esoteric, giddy anticipation and joy that bubbled between two people on the precipice of something bigger than themselves. Even with an affinity for stringing words together you are scarcely able to describe it. Immense and overwhelming, light and dark, tender and everything in between.

Kei pulls away for breath with a low, vibrating hum, wearing a smile that you thought you’d never see outside of your memories. Almost boyish when he looks at you. The distance is an inch too many but it is just that—an inch. “Eager,” he teases, only to kiss you again, twice as eager.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve loved love stories.

But love doesn’t only exist in stories.

You remember that, now.

[bobluvbot]

sweet nothing

pairing: remus lupin x f!reader  summary: you thrive in filling everyone’s cup. remus makes sure your cup gets filled too. wc: 2k cw: descriptions of food, eating a/n: written after a long writing break pls be nice heheh p.s. thank you for all the love for my sirius angst fic!!! i saw yalls comments and messages and appreciate them sm!! i don't have plans at the moment to write a sequel/pt. 2 sorry :'( someday when i get inspiration i probably will but for now it's a standalone <3

The pesto pizza was a big hit.

The news of the heatwave came a month early so it gave ample time for James to rein in the necessary house improvement tasks: yard weeding and tidying, adding small stone steps for the toddler, and ordering the inflatable slip and slide pool for the sweltering summer days. And he was adamant to do it all by hand, no magic, so he “could get the full experience”. Lily likens it to being married to a professional landscaper and contractor at once, thankful that her decision to go on a date with James Potter during seventh year continues to be a great lifelong investment. 

You can still recall Remus’ early morning grumbles when james calls him over for help. It came to a point where he’d beg you to pretend to be mad at the setup, reasoning that “ james is taking him away from his lovely pretty girl” when his best friend calls him at 6am to start the day mowing the lawn. 

James would roll his eyes at excuses falling off of Remus’ lips, but he’d sincerely take your concerns to heart. Lovingly, you’d wave Remus off and give him pecks on both freckled cheeks, encouraging him to go and learn how to tackle on house repairs so he’d be well prepared when it’s your turn to build a family home. 

This usually gets him going, Remus’ secret lover boy tendencies kicking in, but not without grumbling and frowns thrown haphazardly (easily treated with touching and kisses). 

Sirius was off travelling the world for most of the month, much to Remus’ dismay, as he was then promoted as the first-in-line friend in James’ contacts. He did however send over a fancy outdoor pizza oven in lieu of his absence, and it completed the space. 

On the days where you finish work early, you’d join Lily as she picks up her little boy from nursery and take a leisure walk around their quiet neighborhood, a babbling toddler in tow. Then you walk into the perfect setting: the gentle hum of the AC, sunrays reflecting on the white marble countertops, a nicely prepared spread of afternoon snacks for the three of you, and the floor to ceiling glass wall separating the living area from the backyard offering a glorious view of two sunkissed shirtless men doing hard manual labor. Lily nudges you, handing a bowl of pistachios. “A snack for the show.” You return her glance, eyes both twinkling with playful mischief. Maybe the summer days aren’t as bad as it seemed.

But then the first draining day of the heatwave hit. There were minor adjustments to be made still, like some scaffolding to be tidied and hedges to be trimmed, but the heat had a special way to beat down the morale of any living thing exposed to it for a while, and it finally hit James. Early on a Saturday morning, you decided to accompany a still groggy Remus on his usual Potter house renovation shift to make him feel a bit better that you were also losing sleep with him. To both your surprise, James comes from the garden to meet you, looking worn out but wears a proud grin. “It’s all done,” he claims, clapping his hands together and you see him holding the wooden culprit that magically finished hours of yard work in a few minutes. So much for no magic. 

“Get some sleep and come back in the afternoon for the party.” Remus grabs your hand and apparates back home in record time, before James gets a chance to recant his words. 

Completing a full 8 hour sleep cycle does wonders to the mind and soul. A well-rested Remus was filled with high spirits, doting on you as you both get ready for the party. He showers you with compliments the moment you step out of your closet, giving him a twirl. Once the bashfulness sets in, you run to him and try to nuzzle your heated cheeks on his chest, anywhere to escape his lovely sappy gaze. He sits on the bed so you can’t hide, and looks up at you like you hung up the moon. It was maddening.  

“You look stunning, my love,” he says, hands on the back of your knees, sliding up under the hem to meet the soft skin of your thighs and resting them even higher. It took immense strength not to buckle down and fall into him. You’d foreseen this response the moment you decided to wear that white babydoll dress, but actually going through it is a terrible nightmare. As much as the idea of bailing on the summer party and letting Remus do whatever he pleases with you in this dress sounds very appealing right now, you had promised Lily that you’ll help with the cooking and food, and ghosting your best friend for a dick appointment sounds very juvenile. So against your questionable judgment, you grab your boyfriend’s face, give him a chaste kiss, and murmur against his lips, “james and lily will kill us if we ditch.” 

Even though it was an intimate gathering of close friends to celebrate the finished yard, you forgot to account for the amount of kids, partners, and pets that your friends have accumulated since graduation. James had to transfigure the already long dinner table even longer and double the number of chairs to accommodate everyone. The slip and slide also was transfigured into an actual waterpark, complete with a lazy river that kids seemed to enjoy after going on the slides. 

While it was definitely chaotic, it didn’t feel suffocating like packed events usually make you feel. It’s likely because of the familiar faces wherever you look, the ease of conversation just flows. Remus was anchored to your side until he wasn’t, whisked away by both James and Sirius as they announce to everyone who’s listening how his valiant efforts in renovation has resulted in the beautiful yard they were in today. You giggle at the endearing sight of your boyfriend furiously flushing pink while his loud best friends continue to brag about him. It’s just how the marauders would be back in Hogwarts, with you watching their shenanigans from afar whilst nursing a terrible, terrible crush on Remus. Only difference now is that you get to take him home. 

You eventually get whisked away too, thankful that Lily came right on time as you were starting to melt in the heat. The inside of the home smells and feels like heaven, as the chilly air from the AC carries the scent of freshly prepared ingredients and whatever concoction Lily’s currently tending to in a pot. Careful not to disrupt the comfortable quiet, you give her a back hug, a silent thanks for fixing up everything you’ll be needing for the pizza you vowed to make, before getting to work. 

You’ve gone over the recipe and prep so many times that you could do this with eyes closed. The pesto sauce was freshly made a day prior, a delicious result of your raid in your aunt Molly’s garden and fridge. Before you knew it, the only thing left to do was place the pizza into the oven, to which Sirius was very happy to do so he could flex his expensive purchase. 

The chatter didn’t die off even when the dishes started rolling out of the kitchen, everyone now raving of how good Lily’s cooking have been, James not helping by proclaiming, “'m pretty sure my heart isn't the only thing she's stolen—she's got everyone's taste buds wrapped around her finger with her cooking too.” Making his wife flush pink and hit his arm playfully. 

When it was time for your dish, the stakes were quite high and you were feeling a bit nervous. At home, Remus practically inhales everything you make which provides you a good ego boost, knowing that you don’t need to be the best, as long as you don’t accidentally poison someone from your cooking. 

Soon enough, the scent of freshly baked pizza filled the air, mingling with the soft murmur of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. You stand by the head of the table, hands deftly making slices enough for everyone, continuing to scan the crowd, ensuring that everyone is being taken care of.

"Here you go, aunt Effie,” you smile, handing her a generous slice. “Here’s a bunch for you, Fred, careful not to spill and please share with your brothers!" you try to say quickly, but only see a spur of red hair and small hands before they run back to the water slide. 

You soon get a groove going and start to move down the line of smiling guests and waiting plates. Too distracted that you jump a little when you feel a warm presence at your side. Without ever needing to look, you knew it was Remus, who’s now carrying a plate with a slice you don’t even remember handing him. 

Without a word, he picks up the steaming slice and brings it to your lips. You welcome the taste, finally understanding the praise everyone seems to be throwing at your wake. You make a mental note to thank your aunt for lending you her recipe. Remus has his free hand cupped near your chin, ready to catch any crumbs or drippings that might stain your pretty white dress. 

Butterflies in your stomach erupt and fight for space, your entire body vibrating with giddiness and affection for your lovely boyfriend. That distracted look in his eyes as he feeds you in between your efforts in feeding everyone makes the warm fuzzy feeling worse, because you know he’s doing this without much thought, like second nature. That it’s just common sense. That it just goes without saying that his love knows you, fills the needs you don’t even realize were there in the first place.

You wonder through the afternoon then early evening what you’ve done in your past life to receive this love. Maybe you saved a cat from a burning building, or watered a dying plant that had magical powers to heal serious illness, or stars aligning just right to have you exist in the same timeline as Remus. 

You find yourself buried in blankets and clad in a worn sweater, twenty something minutes in a romcom movie in the comforts of your tiny apartment. Remus slides in beside you with a bowl of steaming buttery popcorn and another can of your favorite sparkling water (which he hates with a passion). Your eyes drift to your opened one on the side table, now seeing that it’s almost empty, a few sips left. 

Remus snorts at an obscure joke one of the characters says in passing, and you snuggle up to him, maybe hugging his arm a little tighter than usual, afraid that a love this gentle can vanish between your fingers. He turns and recognizes the look on your face, returning the soft gaze. His free hand brushes a stray hair away, fingers lingering on your cheek. 

“Thank you,” you find yourself murmuring. “For taking care of me.”

You had this conversation long time ago when you first started dating. Having been in some relationships and situationships before Remus, you thought you’ve seen it all. Known the twists and turns, what to ask for and when to keep quiet, what you owe and don’t. But he comes and does things that drove your mind haywire, body screaming foreign! unknown! when he leaves sweet and short scribbles on post-its and sticks it to random places that you’re bound to see somehow, your favorite fruits magically appearing on the basket after finishing the last piece yesterday, being able to count on one hand times where you had to touch the wheel and drive. Its all natural, unprompted, again like second nature. as much as you hated to admit, you’re a control freak. but it's easier this way when you know what comes and goes, what happens and what doesn’t, what won’t happen if you don’t do anything to get it. being with Remus and knowing his love is a shock as it is a clean slate. to unlearn roughness and rigid and know to be soft and vulnerable. 

you’d thanked him. when he gave you a confuddled look, like he didn’t just make your heart grow two sizes bigger in one day. you then started enumerating things he did that made you feel appreciated and loved. you were expecting him to be happy that you see and celebrate his effort, any reaction honestly but a frown. “you don’t need to thank me for those things,” he had said, holding your hand and gently rubbing circles when he sensed that his reaction scared you. “That’s how I show my respect and care for you. ‘s nothing special, just what’s right.” You couldn’t stop the ugly sobs that came after that, when you realized that yes, this was the bare minimum of a healthy relationship, but you made space for less because that’s all you’ve ever gotten, even when you’d ask. 

This time however, maybe because its near midnight and you’re both worn out for the day, Remus lets you. “Always.”

[soov]

𔓕　RUMOUR HAS iT。 ㅤprince .ᐟ 𝓟ark 𝓢unghoon

（ 命 ）fem reader 、1OOO words　fluff ⋄ royal au, arranged marriage　─　kissing, suggestive & pet names。

“I suppose you know about the rumours by now?” The prince’s deep voice tugged you back to reality, making his presence known by leaning onto the same balustrade as you.

“Why do you think I would’ve called you here if I didn’t?” You asked back, to which he responded with a smile, looking at the scenery in front of him.

Sunghoon appeared somewhat unkempt. His hair dismissed the usual slicked-back style, soft black bangs falling on his eyes. He had a white linen puffed-sleeve shirt on, with the first three buttons undone. Once, he had admitted that he owned twelve of the shirts, them being his favorite piece of clothing.

As your stare lowered, his high-waisted black pants and boots piqued your curiosity, “What is the reason behind the informal clothes?”

“Why the question?” He turned his head in your direction, “You also have an informal attire on, my love.” Sunghoon still had a cheeky beam plastered across his face, attentive eyes observing the way you toyed with his sleeves.

“My maids said that this color and dress would look good on me.” You reasoned and pushed one of the puffy sleeves slightly up his arm, tracing the delicate veins enmeshed beneath his flesh. “And I only see you wearing this outfit when it’s your birthday or a commemoration.”

“They were right; you do look good.” He seemed to be enjoying how you were caressing his arm. His muscles flexed and relaxed every time you touched him, making him feel like you were painting a masterpiece across his bare, pale skin. “And well, it is a happy day for me.”

“Even with the rumours?”

Right. The rumours. The gossip that spread around the castle like wildfire about the soon-to-be King and Queen that didn’t truly love each other, only keeping up their looks because of diplomatic problems. That, and the supposed cheating accusations, claiming that you were seeing a close friend behind the prince’s back.

In part, it would’ve been true if the false talk started a few months ago — though only the comment about real love being absent in your relationship. You used to think that the boy was a spoiled little brat who leeched off his parents’ high status. Yet, you fell right into his trap when your arranged marriage was announced.

With his eyebrows tied together and the smallest pout, Sunghoon gave you his trademark confused face. “Why would they matter? We love each other and will get married soon, isn’t it? Let them say whatever.”

The raw and honest responses from Sunghoon were one of the many factors that brought him to the center of your heart. His unfiltered remarks, reminding you of your infinite worth (his words, not yours), slowly guided you to the path without return that is loving him.

You huffed out a breath. There were a bunch of servants whispering and stroddling through the garden close to the bandstand where the both of you were. If sunghoon wasn’t next to you, you would have cussed them out, even knowing that you couldn’t. They were your fiancé’s people, and briefly, they would be yours too.

“I don’t appreciate how they talk so lowly about us...” You mumbled, chin on your palm. Neither of you were big on PDA, that was a fact, but you wondered if it was that bad to make the word even more convincing. “I just wanted to shut their mouths and show them that we long for each other.”

“Do you, now?” Sunghoon grinned, embracing you from behind as his pointy nose went to your neck. “We could give them a little sample of our love.” He muttered, the low timbre of his voice being more than enough proof of your effect on him.

You nearly choked on your own breath, a lump closing your throat. “I thought you were uncomfortable with showing affection in public?” The words left your mouth in a nervous whisper when he gently turned you in his hold to face you.

“Princess,” he began, the pet name almost sounding sardonic due to your current position, “that was seven months ago. I hated you at the time, you know it. But I only want to kiss you right now.”

There was something in his eyes, blended with the dark brown hues and the sparkly melted stars that captivated and hypnotized you. Sunghoon was so intense that you could never bring yourself to break eye contact, or reply coherently, when you were drowning in his gaze. A nod was all that came out of you.

The prince chuckled, the act so genuine and lovesick that your knees threatened to falter, “You’re so annoyingly beautiful.” He voiced, and leaning in, his lips parted to taste the sweetness of your mouth.

With a gasp, you carded your fingers through his raven hair. It had gotten so long in such a short time. The only place that your hands went to during your kisses was in between his locks.

A soft rumble escaped his chest, body beginning to relax when you played with his hair. In a second, Sunghoon cupped a side of your face in his palm, still being smug enough to slide the other to the small of your back, gripping that part. A smirk curled his lips up as he felt the low cut back of the dress, tracing your skin like you did to his arm earlier.

His actions induced a shiver to run down your spine, and you couldn’t do much except feel yourself covered in goosebumps. Softly, gently, slowly — that was how your fiancé enjoyed kissing you.

“Sunghoon...” Tugging at the loose collar of his shirt, you tried to regain your composure after the scandalous scene. “Did they go yet?”

Your breathy voice calling out his name only fueled the pure adoration the boy felt. “Not yet.” He hummed, glancing at the flustered maids that giggled amongst themselves. “Seems like they’re slow walkers.”

“At least that will make them stop talking.” You grumbled.

He squeezed you tighter in his arms, almost trying to express the extent of his feelings in the way he held you. “It surely will.”

And it didn’t, since, now, rumour has it that the prince is too greedy to go for only a single kiss.

⠀ ⠀ SOOV © 2O23

STiCKY NOTES ⋄ rumour is the only british version of a word that i will accept

[lovelybotblog]

bed quem !

“– Who’s that cute boy with the white jacket and the thick accent? ”

satoru gojo! x female reader!

summary: You're at a party hosted by the company you work when fate brings you together with the most breathtaking man you've ever seen with a unique sense of humor, but, can you play along? contents: slight use of "y/n", suggestive, cursing, sunshine x grumpy, fluff, non-curse au word count: 8k

The investment fund you worked for, one of the great pioneers in the New York economy business, was throwing a party to celebrate the merger with a Japanese company, several exchanges of partners and workers between countries were already underway, and you were one of the workers who benefited with a promotion.

So at the same time you credited a small part of the celebration to your position as one of the new company's controllers. And also your colleagues in the area, because from time to time they came up to you to congratulate you.

“Hey, y/n!” You heard a voice calling you in a festive tone.

You looked around trying to find where that voice was coming from through the speakers that were playing electronic music louder than the normal for an executive event. The owner of the company loved to rock his parties, you could describe it as unforgettable and overdoing.

You were surrounded by people talking and dancing, your vision under the liquors you acquired during the night made your vision poorer and the phosphorescent colored lasers that ran throughout the event hall blinded you when they passed through your sight.

“Congratulations.” You felt the hairs on your neck stand up when you felt an unfamiliar grip on your shoulder, the warmth exuded from the voice meeting the flesh of your ear.

You glanced over your shoulder, taking a preemptive step back. “Jackson.” You greeted.

"If I was harsh with you earlier, it was because I wanted to motivate you." It was one of your male colleagues, not one you liked. “I always knew you'd get here.” You knew he hoped you didn’t.

“Thank you.” You responded with a pursed, thin, not heart-holy smile.

He mirrored your expression, taking a small breath before speaking again, “Now that we are in the same branch, any misunderstanding we may have had is best forgotten.”

You forced yourself to control your eyes from popping out of your sockets as your glare intensified, feeling the grip on the glass in your hand tighten. He was a real punk. When you were working for him as an analyst not more than a couple of months ago, he yelled at you calling you ‘useless bitch’ when his irreverent purchase went wrong and blamed you for your numbers being wrong (which were not), when he was the one risking it all for a few million when the estimates you’d given him were clearly low.

“You think so?” You didn't know if the heat you felt was because of your growing anger or the high temperature of the place.

“Definitely,” He answered you, letting out the annoying laugh that you had to endure so many times after hearing him tell one of his sickening jokes first thing in the morning. You brought your French 76 to your mouth, settling the taste of the vodka into your system to put up with more of the thug in front of you.“For the sake of the team.” He winked at you.

The glass stopped on your lips, your eyebrow suffering an unnoticeable twitch. For the sake of the team you should break the glass over his head.

“You guys having fun?” Another one of your colleagues joined the conversation, breaking the closeness the man had forced between you and him.

“Akira! I was hoping to see you.” Your voice came out with happiness, surrounding your senior colleague's shoulders, full of gratitude. She chuckled, fully knowing the reason for your mannerism.

“Am I interrupting something?" She questioned, bringing her index finger to her chin in curiosity, staring sharply at the man in front of you.

Who shook his head, bringing the hand that was previously on your shoulder to the back of his neck, a nervous giggle escaping from his lips. "Not at all, I was just congratulating y/n on her achievement."

Akira nodded, grappling one of her arms to your waist, her gaze not slipping from the man at any moment. The “Mama bear” nickname given by the employees was truly accurate and Jackson was a known pain in the ass, so it was her job to keep him in line. In addition to being treated with fear for being CFO, Akira was also respected for being the only woman with her position in the branch.

Jackson scanned the room, looking for someone else to bother, "If you'll excuse me, ladies." He vowed his head before leaving the scene.

You laughed next to your senior while watching the man's back. “He’s such a moron.”

“He is.” The woman sighed, finally concentrating on your state. “And I should get you a drink, we have to celebrate my little chick hatching.” Akita teased you, squeezing your side. She was the one you did your internship with. She made you go through hell with paperwork and marathons to hand out schedules from one executive to another, but with impeccable effort and paranoia of failure, you managed to get through it with honors.

You both walked towards the bar, making your way through the crowd and greetings from colleagues. You felt your feet starting to ache from the pointed heels you were wearing, shiny black with an ankle strap, they were beautiful of course, but they were higher than what you usually wore.

Although the thought of your accomplishment rolling through your head cancelled it out. You could claim to be happy, it had been a long time since you felt proud of yourself.

"You said earlier that you were hoping to see me, is there anything in particular you want to talk about?" Akira asked you, her gaze searching for empty seats at the bartender's counter. Your arms let go of the woman when you realized how long you had been holding her.

"Oh, yeah. Before I came I was analyzing your idea of ​​buying that new company you rambled on a few days ago and it's actually not a bad idea, despite the small income they have now, in a year's time they will grow their incomes 45% percent. I think we should take the risk." You began to explain quickly and concisely as you were guided by the other. A smile escaping your lips at the idea of ​​all the new possibilities.

A small, incredulous laugh was heard from Akira, "M’kay, babes, I know you're all-excited and your child prodigy nature makes you hungry for action,” She interrupted herself to point to two lonely seats, heading towards them. “But enjoy your first big accomplishment.”

You felt a cold wave washing you out. Every cell in your body felt electrified, eager to learn, excited about how efficiently or poorly your ideas could turn out.

The other woman knocked the wood plank of the bar twice as she climbed onto the stool, you mimicked her action. “Two Margaritas, please.” She asked the bartender as he approached the two of you, he nodded at the petition and walked away.

You noticed that the bar was packed, people were really taking advantage of the free drinks. Groups stood close to the bar for easy ordering, couples were talking in the stools, and baristas paced back and forth with a mental list of the many orders.

“You are very smart, but you're also young. You shouldn't spend all your time working, go loco, screw up sometimes, it'll be okay." Akira lectured you, everyone with eyes could notice that you were a very committed person with the complement of your responsibilities, a little too much. "I know you mean well, but it can wait until we're on work hours." She continued, "We're at a party."

The party was formally work-related, so technically you were in work hours, you thought.

“When you get to your mid-forties depressive crises, you can bussy you up with work, but girl- a few years ago you were just a graduate, you still have time to live out the silly, saccharine crush and drunken weekends. What are you doing?” She made you question yourself.

You knew you were very dedicated to your career, but you realized you were starting to act like your father. A chill runned through your body.

"Look at me, I wish I had the availability you have." Your eyes scanned the woman from top to bottom. Her hair was thick and curly brown, her skin was a dark cinnamon color, and her eyes were tiger-like. Even though she had birthed two children, her curves were preserved intact.

I wouldn’t mind being busy if I looked like you in my forties, you restrained yourself to say. But you were a smart person, you understanded what she was trying to say from the beginning, the thing was that you had no motivation to do it.

The drinks arrived, “Thank you.” Both of you said to the bartender, following him with your eyes as he walked away again.

“I’m not a boring person.” You defended yourself, watching the woman raise her eyebrows and slightly widen her eyes.

“I know.” She answered, smiling with her lips, paying attention to the train of your thoughts.

“I go out.” You continued trying to remember interesting things you have done, Akira nodded as she said ‘okay’, “I date, I have gone on dates.” You added, remembering the dude who asked for your number in your local coffee shop and your old college friend who you ran into while waiting for the subway and asked you out, the one you’ve been texting for three weeks.

“I’m glad you do.” Akira responded, waiting for more opening from you. “My husband will pick me up, I can give you a ride if that's what you're worried about.” It was hard times with the security of women, she understanded if that’s what got you doubting, she would too.

“That would be nice.” You mumbled, that would change the cards on the table. You were celebrating, you reminded yourself. “I guess I could get a few drinks.” Akira’s composure regained its excitement.

“And maybe some shots after!” She added with a smile, moving closer to the edge of the stool.

“Yeah!” You nodded your head, trying to match her enthusiasm, realizing that maybe she was the one who needed the fun night and she was just trying to find a reason to go loco, as she said. There was obviously a lecture in her words, a try to change your mindset, and she kind of did, because you don’t remember well how she managed to convince you to drink the two margaritas. Then you ordered a line of shots that made the warm go up to your neck. Suddenly the loudness of the party didn’t bother you, and you felt happier, making you match your senior extrovertness.

People started to join your circle, one of your Mexican coworkers started shouting “Fondo, fondo, fondo!” As other of your coworkers drinked his beer from top to bottom. Everyone around cheered when he finished, it reminded you of your college days.

In any other business party that behavior would be completely judged, but apparently the ambience of this was given to do any kind of exaggerated outgoings for people to do. You knew that they were gonna regret that the day after and on Monday, everyone was gonna pretend they didn’t go nuts.

“Miss Campbell, the CEOs would like to introduce you to someone," One of the secretaries of the office whispered in Akira's ear, who nodded quickly. You got off the stool, reaching to your coworker, worried about being left alone.

“I'll be right back, wonder girl,” Your senior captivated your attention, patting you on the shoulder. “If you need anything, feel free to call me or text me, whatever.” She said before walking away, leaving you amazed that she looked like she hadn't had a drop of alcohol, walking upright and a stoic expression settling in when it came to business again.

You waved at her when Akira turned her head to see you, you smiled at her, trying to calm your nerves down when you noticed everyone around you was unknown to you. You stepped back to your seat but your back bumped into something.

“So, you are the wonder girl?” You heard a voice behind you making you jump, taking you out. You turned around, facing probably the most handsome man you have ever seen. You quickly noticed his unique white-snow hair, whose locks of hair decorated his big blue eyes as clear and bright as the sea water on a sunny day. The next thing you noticed was that he stole your seat, the one you left alone for like ten seconds. "I pictured someone different." He admitted with a smirk, letting a chuckle out.

You scoffed, trying to figure out if you were surprised by his boldness or his looks, probably both.

“Are you gonna tell me your name or…?” He asked, leaning his arm on the bar, tilting his head slightly, allowing himself the luxury of observing your facial features freely while you looked around to check that it wasn't a prank because there was no way someone could talk as shamelessly as him.

“My name? Who are you?” You questioned him. You noticed his slanted eyes, you assumed he was one of the Japanese employees who blended in with your company.

“I asked first,” He stated.

You huffed at his words, watching him roll back his shoulders, making you notice how broad he was compared to you.

You forced yourself to return your gaze to his eyes, not without first noticing the sunglasses hanging on his unbuttoned formal shirt, slightly giving more room to see his chest.

“And I didn't mean anything negative when I said I picture you differently.” The white-haired man clarified, leaning closer to your face. Even if you were standing and he was sitting, his face was leveled slightly higher. You crossed your arms, waiting to receive a worse comment, “I imagined someone more nerdy looking, maybe with ugly, giant glasses, and a somewhat evil personality.”

Your body relaxed at that, quickly changing your surprised expression to a questioning one, “What assures you that I’m not evil?”

He held your gaze for a few seconds, his smirk still plastered on his face. He leaned back, resting one arm on the bar and placing his other hand on his thigh. “Although you have quite a few envious people talking badly about you behind your back,” He began to speak, making you furrow your eyebrows at his words, “While I was waiting in line for my order to be taken, I noticed that, of all the people you were surrounded, you were the only one smiling so sincerely and purely the whole time.” He unfolded himself, his cheeky smile faded into a smaller but still sincere one.

“So, not only you stole my seat but you also were stalking me?” You pointed out, trying to focus on something other than the fact that someone who looks like him took the time to observe you. The heat returned to your neck and cheeks, it made you feel flattered, a bit of excitement even.

“Well, I'd say that you just happened to stand right in the spot I wanted to lay my eyes on. And the seat was empty, so I took it." He teased you, throwing his hands in the air.

“Oh, and you’re also a comedian.” You say before drinking the rest of the cocktail you still had in your hand, the ice cubes had already melted and the flavor was diluted. You were trying to figure out what to expect from this interaction.

Your sense of self-preservation was telling you to back away, he was making you nervous and that wasn't a good sign. You didn't know how to handle this type of situation -whatever his intentions were-, you deduced that he was probably just playing. But he was magnetic, he made your heart race, his mere presence was imposing. You felt drunk by the way his features seemed sculpted by the gods, by the way his voice was like a siren's song drawing you to the bottom of the sea, by the way his beauty numbed the pain caused by your heels.

He leaned forward as he watched you remove the contact of the glass with your lips, although it stopped midway when from the corner of your eyes you glanced at the way his arm muscles flex under the fabric of his white jacket, immediately sliding your gaze to his eyes. Now that he was closer you noticed how long and full his eyelashes were. “And you are pretty.” He admitted.

You feel your chest rise up and down at this, taking a deep breath that crashes into his face, making him flicker his eyelashes brushing the top of his cheeks. His innocent words might not have any meaning, he might be messing with you, but you also couldn't help the nauseous feeling of highschool-like when the popular guy smiles at you.

You didn't want to smile at his compliment, you didn't even know his name, you were being irreverent. But it was obvious that he worked for the same company, so it shouldn't be so dangerous to trust him, no, you shouldn't let your guard down. Your internal fight was making you more confused.

“I don’t know your name.” You verbalized when no other response came to your mind.

The man didn't seem unfazed, he quickly catched that his name was not your only concern. "Well I don't know your name either."

“But you know my nickname, I think that's already an advantage for you over my personal info. It’s only the fair to give me your name." You fought back.

His brows cured together with a hint of hesitation. His soft smile was intact but it was more than obvious that his thoughts were plotting, he licked his lips, “Then no names.” He proposed.

You could reject him and walk away from the situation without any problem, but you would be lying if you denied that you were curious about him. Plus Akira’s lecture had an impact on your brain chemistry.

“Fine by me.” You agreed, leaving the glass of your hand on the counter.

And as if planned, the barista just happened to leave three diluted reddish drinks that seemed to be cosmopolitans and another dark red glass in front of Gojo. “Thank you,” He muttered, handing the man behind the bar a generous tip. He turned to look at you out of the corner of his eye but you managed to look away before he catched you. “Are you keeping me company?”

“Uhm, weren’t you supposed to take this somewhere?” You pointed out the glasses on the counter.

“I am in no hurry.”

You raised an eyebrow at his immediate, smugly and playful response. “Won’t your friends miss you?” You questioned him with a smile at his smooth talk.

“They’ll understand.” He tried to play it off knowing damn well his friends were in fact not gonna understand.

“Kay’,” You nodded, leaning on one of your feet, your left hand playing with the edge of the counter next to you. “Cool, cool, cool.” You said, instantly regretting it.

You looked down as you pulled your beautiful black sheer dress with nude bottom from your stomach down, which had gathered at the base of your waist from when you were sitting.

You wanted to lean on something, preferably sit down, but you also didn't want to change the position of the man in front of you. You didn’t even realize you were stuck in the middle of his manspreading.

“So, are you staying with me?” His voice took you out of your thoughts as he rested his head on his bicep, lowering the level of his head to be able to connect his gaze with yours, still on the ground.

You couldn't help but let out a small smile as his eyes shone craving to capture your attention, his smile widening when he succeeded.

Then reality hit you, you shouldn’t like being enthralled by his charms, you couldn’t. It was exciting, yes, but it was wrong because, “I’m with someone.”

That sounded ugly, it turned your stomach to say that, but it turned your stomach more to see his smile slowly disappear, you were starting to get used to it.

“I mean, he’s not my boyfriend yet.” That garbage of a sentence escaped from your mouth, the man in front of you tilted his head as a confusion expression grew on his face, “But I’m talking to someone, and he might get to be my boyfriend at some point,” You should stop talking, “-and I think it would be immoral of me to talk to you being aware of the other person's feelings, not that I think you’re flirting with me! Ha-ha,” You should really stop talking, “He trusts me, I wouldn’t like to betray him.” You finally finished, letting out a sigh, closing your eyes against your verbal diarrhea, that was humiliating.

That's why you didn't go on dates or go crazy like Akira told you, because everything ended up screwed up like now, painfully accurate like she said. You were about to apologize and leave, your burning face buried in your hands as a bursted laugh cut you up.

“Good, I hate betrayal,” he told you, his accent slipping through his words. You separated two spaces between your fingers to make way for your eyes, noticing that his hands were now resting on his knees, at your sides. He offered you a soft smile as he tried to imagine a man more handsome, polite, stronger, funnier and skillful -in any kind of way- than him, but he couldn’t, “But us sharing a drink while we chat isn’t overstepping the mark, is it?”

You thought about it a bit, you didn’t know anything about him, but he was at the company party, so he had to work in one of the companies, probably the Japanese one, and seeming that they became one, that turns you into coworkers sharing time to strengthen the union of companies. Camaraderie, that’s it.

“I guess not.”

His smile grew -watching as your expression relaxed- proud and cheeky, but his eyes remained soft, trying to remain understanding if you denied his invitation.

Even if he was a smooth talker, when it came to girls he never really needed it, it was natural that they always approached him. But you were a totally different kind of afterglow, everything he'd heard about you, good or bad, wasn't enough to prepare him for a stunner like you.

If he took your seat, it wasn't because he wanted to sit as he said, but because from the moment he was in line to order you caught his eye, eclipsing everyone in the room, making his legs weak with your dancing silhouette under the fluorescent lights of the disco and your smile that could light up the darkest nights.

“Okay, then let’s talk,” The mysterious man pressed, his gaze piercing your hands still over your face, trying to see that little giddy smirk of yours. He pulled away again and slid one of his drinks towards you. “You set the limit.”

You let out a giggle-sigh like, he was truly breathtaking. And a skilled manipulator, because it was the first time a man charms had convinced you to give in to your own warnings.

You shifted your weight to your other foot, still hesitant, “Fine.” You agreed, lowering your guard as you reached out to the drink, the tip of your fingers brushing against his as he took a couple of seconds to let go of the glass that shuddered on your hand when you were obnoxiously pushed from behind with a subsequent ‘sorry' from a person poking their head in the bar trying to get the barista’s attention.

“Let’s go to the sofa, it’s too noisy here.” You forced yourself to say to the white-haired man in front of you when you noticed the slight annoyance that grew on his eyebrows towards the person who pushed you.

He nodded, as you didn't miss the way he effortlessly took the remaining three drinks between his long fingers. When he stood up you felt a flutter run through your body when you noticed how he towered you and his muscular shoulders and flexed arms significantly framed your figure.

He guided you, making you way through the crowds, to where you had previously pointed out some sofas in the corner of the place, which although it was the quietest area, it was only because all the people there were flirting or hiding in the darkness to smooch. If he was honest, he wouldn't mind if your old monologue was thrown out the window and you opted for the second option.

He sat down first, then you imitated him, putting more distance between the two of you that you would like.

“I don’t bite.” He growled at you, watching as you leaned over on the edge of the sofa now gaining enough confidence to attentively observe the drinks he had placed on the table in front of you.

He rolled his eyes although that was just a facade to hide the fact that he almost tripped when you were walking behind him and he peaked a glance at you just to catch you checking him out.

In any other time he would use that to make the other person nervous, but in this case, your case, was just different. He knew you were smart enough to quickly throw a comeback, and even if it wasn’t a very strong one, you had the power to make him giggle with anything you said and he still couldn’t understand that.

“Are you serious? Cranberry juice?” You snatched at him, passing your nose over the glass he previously had in his hand, completely ignoring his silent request. “This is what kids drink.” You chuckled.

He raised an eyebrow, placing his arm on the back of the sofa and cupping his cheek on his hand, expectant to hear your thoughts.

“I understand if drinking isn’t your hit, but there are so much better things to drink, you know?” You said as you turned to him, returning your gaze to his eyes.

“Like what?” He played along with you, a roguish tone dancing in his voice, low and taunting. You noticed how his eyes traveled from you to the arm's length of empty space between you, clearly bothered by it. “Something like that?” He loosely pointed out the drink in your hand, the one offered to you earlier.

“I mean, this has alcohol, but yeah,” You responded, you knew what was probably coming next but you still let it continue.

He smirked, beautifully, godly and unreal. He was the kind of person you meet once in a lifetime, the type of person that leaves you awestruck with his beautiful, ethereal presence. And you had him in front of you, talking to you so casually, so willing to do what you said that made you annoyed.

It took your breath away to think how far you could take it.

“I wouldn’t mind trying it.” His calm voice silenced the techno music blasting your ears. You reached your hand towards one of the cocktails on the table, but he stopped you, “No, I want to try that one.” His gaze layed on the glass held by your fingers.

When he told you he wanted to share a drink you didn’t expect to be literal.

“All three drinks are the same,” You clarified, the corners of your mouth curling up but freezing the moment the white-haired man slid across the sofa towards you in one motion.

The fresh, mannish scent of his perfume made its way into your nostrils.

“But this one looks extra delicious,” he replied, watching the way your lashes brushed against your high cheekbone in disbelief. “Would taking a sip be crossing the line?” He continued talking, placing his hand on top of yours that was holding the glass, you were as surprised as he was that he dared to do so.

It took you a couple of seconds to release your grip on the glass until you were sure he had a good hold on it. You were really trying not to fall for his charms, for the sake of your situation-ship, but it was like his hands were meant to meet yours.

You watched him bring the glass to his lips, his attention never leaving your expectant eyes. You brought a hand over your heart and formed a fist as you felt the rhythm increase and beat harder when you realized your knee was brushing against his.

“Did you like it?” You forced yourself to ask, biting the inside of your cheeks trying to ignore the heat that grew after taking awareness of your contact with him.

He took the glass from his lips with a tight-lipped smile. At this point the alcohol punch should already be settling and his tongue flavoring the acid from the cranberry and lime juice. He slowly nodded at your question, trying to widen his smile but it only turned into a distorted grimace.

You let out a chuckle, his eyebrows unknitted together when you inadvertently patted him on the shoulder, “Do you want to spit it back into the glass?” You questioned, noticing how his cheeks were still puffed out.

He nodded again, quickly bringing the glass to his mouth to spit the liquid out of his mouth, not before covering the action with his free hand to not disgust you.

“Yuck…” He chirped while his facial muscles twitched, leaning towards the table to leave the glass, you were close enough to catch a hint of his perfume in the breeze he produced. Yet you got so carried away that you didn't notice when your body moved forward on its own to catch more of him.

It smelled woody, sensual and expensive.

“I like your scent.” You took the opportunity to give him a compliment when he had his back turned, a way of establishing that you had no problem with him.

You sat up straight again, nervously playing with your fingers, glancing at his profile, catching a pleased smile forming on his face.

“Thank you.” He appreciated, bringing one knee up onto the sofa as he twisted his torso to look at you again, a witty smirk warning you, “Now let me smell you.”

That hitched your breath, unsure if you heard right. “Kinky~,” You tried to tease him.

“You heard me right, don’t think I didn’t notice you sniffing me.” He laughed, sounding coming from the belly, like when children laugh and throw themselves back.

You felt the heat burn your cheeks, if it weren't for the low lighting of the place, you're sure you would be as red as a cherry. You had just been exposed by him.

“It’s only the fair!” He recalled your earlier complaint.

“What? No!” You replied with a frown, crossing your arms with your hands on the opposite shoulder as you remembered that your dress made you sweat, so you probably wouldn't smell as nice as you did in the beginning of the party. Plus, it was a ridiculous request to ask and accept.

“Why?” He asked, still with his playful tone lingering.

“Because it’s weird!” Your voice rose in exasperation, nearby couples looking at you in annoyance, causing the white-haired man to suppress a laugh when your tense expression turned into one an anxious one, wishing to stop being the center of attention.

“Well, then I could say the same about you.” Compared to you, he remained calm despite the insinuations.

Your head moved slowly from side to side, you couldn't believe how intimate the situation felt, the way his voice coaxed you, or why you were still there with him despite your own limitations.

It was clear that he was attracted to you, but you didn't understand why. He could have anyone he wanted, he could bewitch people with his mere appearance, and yet you were the person in the room he devoted his time to.

He confused you, he made you doubt yourself and your knowledge, when in your whole life you had always had everything clear and established.

You didn't know if he was a divine gift, or if he was a test of restraint.

“Come on.” He pressed on, adjusting himself in his seat, a smug grin widening in his face.

A flutter began to trot across your chest, your fingers pressed deeper into your skin, the thought of his figure near you made your body tingle.

“This is such a weird way to flirt,” You muttered, lowering your gaze to the sunglasses hanging on his shirt.

“I don’t see anyone flirting.” You heard him reply in the same low tone as yours, moving closer.

You couldn't even look him in the eyes, you were too embarrassed at the realization that you liked his attention, because you shouldn’t.

“You are stupid,” You said under an incredulous chortle, letting your arms slide down your body into your lap.

You felt guilty for keeping talking to him knowing his intentions and your reveries about the cute boy in front of you.

It wasn't entirely your fault, because although the guy you were romantically involved with was smart, attentive and average looking, but he was also kind of boring, you could never laugh with him because he never understood your jokes and he was quite judgmental.

Maybe it was just excuses, like the ones cheaters make after committing the act.

“Then let me continue being stupid,” he said, putting his arm on the edge of the sofa behind you. Your heart lifted as you felt his figure close once again, heat beginning to ignite your body.

From then on everything began to feel like it was in slow motion, from the moment you looked up and you were enchanted by his sparkling and magnetic eyes, as blue as the sea in summer, until your head leaned back without your order, opening the way for your bare neck as if you didn’t owned your body.

And you sat there, waiting for him to get close, “Am I crossing a line?” He mumbled just a palm away from your face.

“You’re about to.” You responded in the same playful tone with a bit of a warning written under lines which was forgotten the instant he made you nervously giggle when you felt his warmth breath electrify the bridge of your neck, causing your skin to prickle.

His hand was still on the side of your hip, his forearm gently brushing your waist, almost unnoticeable if it weren't for the heightened level of your senses. It was like you were trapped in a bubble, immersed in innocent intimacy.

“Am I crossing the line?” He teased you, his azure gaze connecting with yours, leaning forward just a few inches from your skin.

His malicious smirk spread across his face, making you roll your eyes at his mischief. He was too cheeky, too cocky.

You felt so hot, both because of the temperature of the place and the situation. He laughed, confident and amused by the situation. Having him close, led you to notice that he was as tipsy as you.

You looked up at the ceiling to try to ignore the reasonably strange looks from the people around you, although you could still get a sight of the man's whitish hair at the corner of your eyes.

It didn't take long for you to feel his nose touching and sniff the crook of your neck, hitching your breath, “Am I crossing the line now?” He whispered, sending a goosebump through your spine. You slowly shook your head, trying to keep your hand on your lap and not brushing with your fingers his hair that looked so silky and shiny, that even from a distance it was easy to detect the smell of his shampoo.

Then his touch traveled from your cleavage to the crease of your armpit and you quickly pushed him back with a hand on his chest, he immediately bursted out laughing.

“What is wrong with you?!” You scolded him, smacking him in the chest, dying of embarrassment. Your face burned hotter than you'd ever felt before, your nose and cheeks itched and burned as if a bucket of boiling water had been thrown on you.

He was lying on his shoulders, his chest going up and down with each laugh he let out, you could distinguish his abdomen contracting even through his shirt.

“M’ sorry! Sorry, ” He apologized amidst giggles, trying to sit up, one of his hands traveling to your wrist when you tried to stand up. “Just so you know- you didn’t smell bad at all.” You stood up again with your back to him, but he pulled you back and turned you around, plopping down on the couch again, “In fact, you smelled like really good.” He promised now seated properly.

His jeering voice had faded into a convincing sweet one, with puppy eyes and all.

“Don’t go.”

You should, but didn’t want to.

“I didn’t mean to offend you or anything, well- I did want to annoy you but because that’s the only way you look me in the eyes with your eyebrows furrowed and a little pout.” He started chattering, desperate to explain himself.

Your eyes traveled to his grip on your wrist, just tight enough to keep you close without hurting you, one of his fingers slowly massaging the palm of your hand to calm you down. “You command.”

You looked up again, now watching him lick his plump pink lips. Your breathing was labored, your thighs were pressed together, and your free hand was squeezing your knee.

Something inside you felt minisculely change, your gaze joined with his felt heavier and more connected than before, it was as if you could feel him deep in your chest, like a knot that you couldn't swallow.

“Is your heart racing?” He asked you in a breath, his hand twitched against your skin.

“How do you know that?” Your breath was trapped, trying to climb up your rib cage, sending a burning ache you couldn’t let out.

“Well, because mine is,” He let out with a chuckle, bringing a hand to his chest and pressing it into a fist when he felt his heart was going to jump out.

You wanted to laugh, you wanted to scream, both at the same time. The feeling of his eyes made you feel as if you two were dancing under a spotlight in a room full of darkness.

At first you thought it was his incomparable beauty that kept you hooked on the conversation, but it was actually him, his jokes, his teasing, who made you feel like you were in a fever dream.

And he was the one who was confessing to you that his heart was racing, he was the one who looked at you like if you were a tasty meal he craved, he was the one who you would allow to pin you down on the floor just because his jokes just hit different.

He scooched over to you, his free hand laying on the side of your thigh, his thumb caressing over the cloth of your dress, trying to steal your attention out of your thoughts. And when you did, you drove your eyes to him, although you felt unable to hold his gaze, his eyes softly sparked with his pupils dilated and his grin stretched, his head tilting afterward.

Your mouth was gaped half open, being interrupted by a shy beam spreading across your face, sinking at your sight. Your body moved closer to his and you giggled, after the nervous cute rant the man in front of you threw, now you couldn’t deny to yourself that he was genuinely interested in you. Unthought-of words were about to spill out of your mouth.

“Gojo!” Gojo?

A loud, rigid voice broke the moment, whisking away your low guard, walls starting to build up again. By inertia you removed your hand from his grip.

“Satoru Gojo!” Satoru? “You have erased any non-existent respect I had for you.”

The white-haired man paled, his expression twisted as he slowly turned towards the voice marching angrily towards your way.

“Nanamin- ouch!” The man in front of you standed, trying to defend himself two seconds before being flicked in the forehead. Your eyes went wide.

“You prick, do you know how important the man you promised to invite a drink is?” A stoic voice coming from a muscular body spoke. You knew him, blond hair, prominent cheekbones and deep eye bags due to overwork. “Y/n…” His hard expression faded when he noticed your presence.

Kento Nanami, you were colleagues in the same branch, he was transferred from the Japanese company no more than two months ago.

“Hey,” You greeted him with a sheepish smile, standing immediately when he addressed you.

His hazel eyes analyzed you and then the man in front of you, well, Satoru Gojo, now you knew his name.

“You know each other?” Satoru questioned, adding himself in the conversation, one eyebrow raised mistrustfully, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“I didn’t know you hung out with people of his kind.” The blonde man told you, straightening his tie, embarrassed that you saw the stiff demeanor he specifically saved for Gojo, who Nanami looked up and down.

“My kind?” The white-haired man whined, a hand on his chest exaggerating his offended feelings. “How do you know each other?” He pressed, masking a smile, trying to step closer to you but ineffectively succeeding through being pulled by the collar of his jacket by the other man.

“It’s always a pleasure to see you, y/n.” Nanami turned to you, his friendly tone returning with a subtle smile. “But our flight back to Japan leaves in less than eight hours and we still have to apologize for ditching an executive and finish packing.”

“Wait-” Satoru called.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience.” The blond man apologized, pushing his companion away.

“No, Nanamin-” He was cut again.

Your gaze tried to pay attention to Nanami but Satoru's voice stole your attention, leaving your stomach in knots from the rush. The white-haired man who was constantly covered by his colleague tried to connect his gaze with yours, the urgency to find a way to contact you again grew in him.

“We shall go.” Nanami quickly said goodbye, pushing Satoru into the sea of people again, you tried to keep up with them. But you got stuck in a crowd of unknown people, you didn't even had the chance to stop them, to say goodbye to him.

A sudden, despondent weight fell upon you. That newly found harmony had been overwritten, you were left with a disjointed heartbeat and unfinished confessions. You felt as if you had been thrown into the driest and hottest desert, accompanied by a withered hope.

You sat down in the first seat you found, your legs feeling devastated not only by tiredness, but also by the fact that you actually got carried away by a conversation with someone whose name you didn't know. You never had experienced this, what should you do? You weren’t sure if you should even look into the matter further. You wanted to think that it was meant to end like this anyway, after all that was the agreement, just a quick chat over a drink.

Your stomach felt queasy, although that was probably due to the alcohol you had ingested.

What ifs came to your mind, what if even after all Satoru was actually playing? Nanami said ‘his kind’, what kind? A player? You didn’t believe that was the case, still, it wouldn’t surprise you if it was.

But, what if everything was truly heart-felt? What if the mesmerizing glimmer of his eyes when he soft-spoke to you was sincere? That damn drowning blue eyes, mocking pearly-white smirk, face carved by the gods and purring delirious voice.

You buried your head in your hands and lost count of the time you spent replaying the memories of the night in your head over and over again, every look, every touch, every breath taken.

You deep in thought scolding yourself at how ridiculously pathetic you were for giving so much importance to an interaction that you didn't know if your thoughts intensified the relevance when someone tapped your shoulder.

“Y/n.” Someone sweetly whispered.

When you raised your head you saw Akira in front of you, a pleased smile on her face. She didn't even knew the reason why you were melted in your seat alone but she could assume it was because you followed her advice.

“It’s time to go home.” She continued saying. You covered your eyes with one hand to block out the radiance of the lights, you didn't even notice when the place began to empty.

“Okay,” You accepted, getting up from your spot, the woman in front of you linked her arms with you to give you support, now the liquor had hit you properly. “My head hurts.” You complained.

“Wait ‘till tomorrow, it will get worse.” She laughed as you growled.

You both walked to the reception to pick up your jackets and bags and then went out to the entrance of the place, watching the cars passing by on the street, not taking long to find Akira's husband's car, who greeted you from the driver's seat.

Akira helped you get into the back seat and then climbed into the passenger seat, you quickly closed your eyes and leaned your head back. You heard her ask if you were okay and you just nodded, taking a sip of the water she offered you.

Your mind was no longer worried about giving the direction of your apartment because they already knew the way from the times you invited them to eat dinner, now you could agonize in peace of mind while you fell asleep.

The movement of the car against the street lulled you and the air conditioning leveled your temperature.

The movement of the car against the street lulled you and the air conditioning leveled your temperature, your consciousness was about to turn off when a 'ding' woke you up, you grimaced at it and tried to go back to sleep, since the ride to your house was long, but the same sound rang out again.

You turned on your phone screen and the notification bubble returned energy to your body.

Nanami (work):

Satoru Gojo

Create new contact / Add to existing contact

You scrolled down the messages and it was an attached photo, you clicked on it and zoomed it, it was a photo of Gojo asleep in the Uber, your lips curved up when you saw how angelic he looked when he wasn't acting like a jerk, his long eyelashes curled when they reached his high cheekbones and his hair looked more disheveled than when you met at the beginning of the night.

The photo had a description on the foot.

Nanami (work): I just send you his contact. If you're really going to give him a chance, do it soon because he whined until he fell asleep about how I sabotaged his chance with a ‘baddie’.

You couldn't help but laugh at Nanami's message and his sincerity. I made you question if he phrased it that way to help his friend or to boycott him. Even so, a relief began to drain your dreadful thoughts from your body, as if that revelation canceled all your personal issues to resolve.

And It did, a little, because deep down you knew that what you lived was real, that the way he saw you was how you supposed, that everytime he tastes cranberry juice he’ll think of you.

But what you didn't know was that you left quite an impression, and that you enchanted him and became the reason his heart pounds even if you're not around.

hi guys!!! I saw a tiktok of a girl who said she wanted to read something about satoru with sabrina’s song bed quem so I worked on it. please tell me if this funny or weird because wrote it in the lapse of 3 weeks and idk how to feel about it. Pls share your thoughts xoxo

[redbleedingrose]

Hey it’s the anon that had the nightmares. Headcanons about dealing with nightmares would be absolutely amazing if you’re up for it, thank you so much. You truly have no idea how much you’ve helped me 🥺

Of course dear!!! Here you go!!! (sorry this took so long sweetheart)

Edit: This ask has been sitting in my drafts for months and I am so sorry I didn't post it until now. Writers block and general insecurity does crazy things to me.

How the Bat Boys would help you with your nightmares!

Rhysand

Okay, the thing about Rhys is that I think he remains fully aware of your presence at all times, even in his sleep. He can feel you next to him, your body pressed against his, your heart beat thumping at his side, the weight of your head on his shoulder, he can feel it.

He also, is very in tune with your emotional state. Maybe it has to due with your mating bond, but tbh, I think his love for you has brought him a number of powers that allows for the deepest sort of connection to you. He can feel the emotions that you feel. It can go as far as Rhys feeling the roof of his mouth ache when you burn your mouth from drinking too hot tea, it can go as far as him feeling like someone has poked him hard when he is entirely alone in his office (when it is Cass who is poking at you, whining at you to share your summer imported mandarain oranges with him) and if Rhys really sits on it, he can also feel your mixed emotions of amusement and teasing towards Cass in that moment.

So I think that if you were having a nightmare, Rhysand would know. He would feel your heart racing from fear, it would make his own stutter. He would feel the panic pumping through your veins, and it would nearly send him into a frenzy.

Rhys would be awake, shushing your tired whines, and peppering the softest kisses all over your face to slowly ease your mind. The high lord of night would absolutely slip into your mind like butter, easing all the fired up neurons that have built up from your nightmare, slowly detangling the knots of emotion twisted inside your mind without waking you. He would pull you impossibly close, his heart beating against yours, his hands tangled in your hair, rubbing at your scalp, and naturally, you tuck your forehead into his neck, a quiet sigh leaving your once quivering lips.

Your nightmare would have dissolved without your knowledge, and you would be lulled into a dreamless sleep with your mate holding you close, his warm cheek resting on your head with one hand resting at the back of your neck and the other hand stroking up your spine, protecting you from anything and everything, even your own mind. You would wake up without any memories of the nightmare, and if I am being honest, Rhysand wouldn't want to remind you of it either, so he keeps this part of his duty towards you to himself.

Cassian

I am not gonna lie, this male is a heavy sleeper. He is dead to the world once his head hits the pillow. And he freaking snores too. Actually, he is famous for how loud he snores. Cassian can be heard snoring from across the house of wind. And initially, it was really hard for you to fall asleep to. In fact, you would force Cass to stay awake until you fell asleep because you just could not with his snoring.

And now?? Now this fucking male has you unable to fall asleep without his snoring. You need his heated, and I mean this male is a literal furnace, nearly naked body beneath you, with his burly arms wrapped tight around your waist, with your head pressed against his male tits, your legs tangled with his, in order to fall asleep. The snoring has become its own sort of white noise to you, and without it?? You will stay up the entire night and be extremely grumpy the next morning, often resulting in the back of Rhysand's head getting smacked for his taunting. (if Cass is out on a mission for longer than a day or two, Rhys actively avoids you for fear that you will end up choking him for sending his general away. Not that that has ever happened before.... nope... never................)

So. On good nights, you are usually snoozing it away with your hunk of a male, and you end up waking up to a lovely "surprise" poking at your tummy and a male who is too turned on by you to be ashamed in the slightest.

On bad nights though, on nights where you worry about Cassian, on nights where all of your fear of losing your loving mate culminates into nightmares, don't ever doubt that Cass wouldn't be there for you. Cassian is the general of the night court of a reason. He, like Rhys and Az, has been trained, for centuries, to be aware of his surroundings, even in his sleep. So while he might sleep heavy, his body are attuned to taking note of his environment, and that means, his body and his bond is focused on you throughout the night.

So he does wake up to you tensing, to your quickened breathing, to your restlessness, immediately too. His eyes would snap open, with his arm around your waist firm and tight, his other automatically reaching for the dagger he has hidden under his pillow, looking out for any signs of immediate danger to you. Not to himself. To you. His instinct does not edge towards self preservation. It hasn't since he met you. His instinct is to protect you at all costs.

Once he realizes that there isn't any physical threat that is causing your distress, his attention goes back to you, an ache burrowing itself in his chest as he notices your hand is clenching into a fist against him, as he notices your face is screwing up in fear, as he notices your body shaking. His mouth drys at the sight of you looking so scared, and he wouldn't be able to help himself.

Cass would murmur quiet reassurances, rubbing at the space between your shoulder blades and planting kisses onto your furrowed brows, "wake up sweetheart, s'jus a nightmare" and "shhh, I got you love, I'm here" and "s'okay baby, you're fine" and "c'mon, that's it, that's my girl, wake up f'me beauty"

When you wake with a start, he hushes your cries and pulls you in even closer. He would turn you both onto your sides, your front melding against his with his arm tucked under your head and around your hip with his leathery paper thin wings shield you both from the outside world. It's this warm cocoon that he forms around you where you spend the rest of the night and into the early morning.

At first, you would apologize for waking him up so early, knowing that he has training in the morning with Az and the others, but he dismisses that immediately, stressing to you that his only concern, at this time and forever, is you. He would stay awake with you, attentively listening to your ramblings about your nightmare, playing with the ends of your hair while you tell him all your secret fears. And he would kiss you and promise to protect you no matter what, and he would promise to keep you safe. Eventually, you would end up falling asleep, the closeness of your mate, his gentle breathing, and the warmth he brings relaxing you enough to a dreamless rest. And Cass, the ever diligent and loving male, would stay awake for the rest of the morning, skipping out on training to watch over the love of his life and make sure that you don't have any other nightmares.

In the morning, after you wake up feeling rested, Cass would finally let you go, a soft kiss to your lips and a wink in goodbye, only to come back within ten minutes, bringing you some warm, fresh chai that he made for you with some oatmeal that you both share in bed together. You spend the rest of the day cuddled up with your mate with slow and sweet love making, hushed oaths to each other to protect one another, and long naps in between.

Azriel

Azriel is a completely attuned to you. And so are his shadows. He has one that you have noticed that constantly follows you around, that learns every single thing about you to report back to its master. And then there are a couple that you haven't noticed. Ones that stay hidden in the darkness with full intent to take care of anything that puts you in harms way. And it stays that way always, regardless of the timing.

So at night, when your heart rate jumps, your blood pumping through your veins, your eyes furrowing shut too tightly, the slightest bit of sweat breaking out on your skin, they are the first to notice. And they are the quick to notify their master about it, hurridely slithering to his ears to wake Az so he can help you.

Azriel would initially try to soothe you in your sleep, his heart aching at the thought of you being afraid of something he can't control. A quick command to his shadows has the curtains to your balcony eased apart, the light from the moon and stars beaming in through the large glass doors. His scarred hands would stroke at your cheeks ever so gently, your mating bond humming at the barely there touch. Az wouldn't hesitate to place his lips in the space between your brows, moving from one soft edge of your face to the next with small pepperings of kisses.

He would thumb at your edge of your jaw, the calloused tip of his finger reminding you in your sleep that he is there. That he didn't leave sometime in the night. That he would never leave. That he would always be there to protect you. To care for you. To love you. He knows that you have your own traumas that you deal with, and he wants you to feel in control of your problems. Nightmares... they make you feel out of control. And he is there to give the power right back to you.

Most nights, Azriel's simple touch is enough to soothe you. I'm ngl, it does stroke his pride a little (a lot) that he is able to calm his mate with just the touch of his hands. With something that he used to keep hidden behind his back when he talked to others, something that he would cover up from the shame of his past, something that he feared would one day lead to a disgusted look on your face. And on those nights that his touch is enough, once you are settled, he pulls you closer to him, tucking his arm around your waist and wrapping one of his large wings around both of your figures, burying his face into your neck so he can fall back asleep to the feel of your pulse against his skin.

On the nights where the nightmares are just too much, where you are too deep in the dream that you can't feel anything but the fear, Azriel will wake you. He loathes the thought of disturbing your sleep, he hates that you will most likely not feel rested in the morning, but his heart shatters into the tinest pieces when he can feel the end of your mating bond crying out for him in your sleep. So he lays a firm hand on your forehead, his other hand rubbing at your shoulder, tenderly shaking you awake: "wake up my love, it's alright," and "you're fine my sweet girl, I'm here," and "I promise I'll always be here my dove, now be a good girl for me an wake up"

He would hush you as you startle awake, the jolt of your body causing him to wrap his arms tightly around you with mumbled, "that's it, there's my starshine" and "s'okay moon, it was just a bad dream" and after a good long while of him calming you down, he would whisper into your hair with a final kiss to the top of your head, "c'mon love, let's get you something to drink."

Azriel wouldn't let you lift a finger or a toe for that matter. Male would take your comforter and wrap you up like a burrito and then carry you all the way down to the kitchen where he settles you onto the counter, sending you the most beautiful, tired smile while he makes you some chamomile tea. He would be slow in each of his steps, the small smile on his pretty lips never leaving his face as he feels your gaze watching his every movement. He adores doing things like this for you. He craves doting on you. He thinks you are his treasure. A gift from the mother herself. And he plans to make sure you feel that way, all the time, forever, until you and him only exist as stars in the night sky.

A/N: 😫🫠🥲 Sorry this was a bit repetitive, but I hope you liked it ❤️❤️❤️

[banquetwriter]

can u write a smut of an insecure plus sized goth reader x johnnie please? she's a virgin and after being together for a few months she asks him could they do it, and he eats her out n fucks her n stuff 🙏🙏 make it really soft pls and thank u i love ur work btw 🖤🖤

୨୧ Batty love ୨୧

pairing: Johnnie Guilbert ♡︎ goth!fem!Reader

warnings: ୭̥⋆*｡ smut, losing virginity, getting eaten out, general shenanigans

summary: ʚ johnnie isn’t gonna let you being inexperienced stop him from devouring you ɞ

Words: 2234

An: i know this isn't the best but I'm legitimately do sick rn 😞

SUPPORT ME

You haven't stopped looking at your phone for at least two days. Johnnie, your boyfriend, had just hard-launched your relationship for the first time on Instagram. And to your shock, 95% of the comments were so positive. Everyone complimented your goth appearance.

This much praise was addicting. Being plus size meant a lot of insecurities made by the pathetic losers of society. There were of course a few nice comments… those weren't the ones you kept staring at. Criticizing your looks or body.

Johnnie had warned you about this happening, and you promised him the world knowing about you two was worth it, and it was, but god did it hurt. Johnnie Was out streaming with Jake today so that left you alone for a good few hours.

It was useless trying to wait around crying over some loser online who couldn't handle the fact their celebrity crush didn't pick them. You sat up rubbing your face carefully not trying to hit your piercings at all. You scrolled around on your phone’s playlist before connecting to a speaker.

You started to shift through your closet to come up with an outfit. Maybe you and Johnnie could go out tonight? It was hard to get dressed in full goth normally, especially when you weren't feeling good about yourself.

You settled on a long black skirt with silver shiny bats that were sporadically speckled on it and paired it with an ‘i ❤️ emo boys’ t-shirt with a corset. You put your outfit on by pairing your black stockings and fishnet top for your arms.

You sat down at your desk singing along to your beloved playlist. You turned your light on your mirror searching for your hair clips. You managed to locate them by clipping your hair out of your face. Your music was briefly interrupted by a text notification.

You pick up your phone and it is from Johnnie, ‘should be done soon. Just filmed for Jake's, we're gonna do mine now. Probably just dick around Walmart or something. See you soon love 🖤’ you smiled at his text.

You responded back within seconds ‘Have fun filming (but not too much fun without me lol) 🖤🖤’

You sat your phone down, adjusting your shirt, and you started on your makeup. You put on primer, then foundation, the concealer, and to finish your base off you pack on some powder letting it sit on your face. You pulled out your phone and snapped a selfie of your half-done make-up.

You stuck your tongue off a little for the picture. You posted it on your main Instagram story with a goth song of course. Your Instagram gained quite a few followers from Johnnie’s post. It was exciting and also very scary.

You decided the powder baking on your face was about done so you brushed it off. You grabbed your contour brush and packed some onto it. You started to carve your face onto the white base using the black powder.

Now it was time for your eye makeup. It was the hardest part. You spent a good while meticulously adding your eyeliner and eyeshadow. Once you were done, sufficiently looking like a bat, you finished it off with black lipstick and some setting spray.

You put on accessories and teased your hair to high heaven. And you were all ready. You sprayed some perfume on and looked in the mirror. Fuck did you look good. You posed a little admiring yourself, you took your phone out again and decided to take a few pictures.

This time you posted them as posts and not a story so anyone could say anything. It scared you but you couldn't hide forever. You were dating Johnnie and no one could change that.

It took only a few minutes before the comments came rolling in. All of which were positive, it made your heart soar with all the compliments. You were smiling until you read one: ‘Johnnie eating good tonight’ . It was a nice comment and funny naturally.

There was just one issue. You and Johnnie haven't had sex yet, and furthermore, you have never had sex. Ever. Sure you used a few toys here and there but never has another person shared such an intimate moment with you. You had already worried yourself sick about this. Johnnie Was sexually active and therefore, inevitably he would want to have sex with you.

You were ready… you think at least. You wanted to, of course you did, have you seen your boyfriend? He was such a fucking hottie. You had plenty of dreams of ripping his clothes off and going under the covers. You were just nervous.

You did actually weigh a lot more than your boyfriend and no offense to him he wasn't exactly built to handle all you could offer. The nerves rattled through your body. But you were a full-grown woman and there wasn't anything wrong with taking your time to have sex.

If Johnnie didn't understand that (which you're sure he would) then this wasn't the relationship for you. You shook your thoughts of breaking up with Johnnie away. This wasn't a time to worry.

It was only a few more minutes before Johnnie came home. He stepped into your apartment, and he stopped when looking at you. His jaw faltered open. “Wow, how are you mine?” he asked, closing the door, his hands wrapping around your waist.

“From your strapping good looks and charm of course.” you purred, moving a strand of his hair from his face. You planted a small kiss on his now-exposed skin. “Yeah sure,” he murmured against your hair, planting a small kiss on the top of your head.

You smiled at him, your eyes holding each other. His eyes seem to almost darken looking at you. You pull him into a kiss, one he gladly returns. His hands are holding onto your corseted waist. Even through the thick fabric, you can feel him clutching your body.

Your kisses got more heated as he started to move his hands down your body. You had done this with him before. It didn't scare you much anymore. Of course it was nerve-racking, but not scary. His touch felt so nice even if it was through your clothes.

He slowly moaned into your mouth as you gently tugged his hair. “Fuck,” he muttered slowly pulling away from you. He wrapped his hands into your pulling you towards your couch. Your nerves jumped into your throat knowing what was coming.

And yes you wanted to so fucking bad, you needed your hot boyfriend inside you. He gently pushed you onto the couch, you fell back ruining your cute decorative pillows. He positions himself between your legs, his mouth hungry to devour all of you.

You wanted to enjoy him you really did but your heart was pounding out of your chest with nerves. “Johnnie-” you asked quietly against his lips. He pulled back sensing your worry. “We haven't done anything yet-” you started, unsure how to keep going you stayed silent.

“It's fine if you don't wanna, you know, tonight.” he spoke softly, “No trust me I want to. It's just that I've never done that before. I've never had sex before.” you confessed. You could see his eyes widen. You felt like you were holding his breath.

“Woah, really?” he asked, leaning towards you, a small cheeky smile plastered on his lips. “Yeah, not that I’m waiting for marriage or something but I don't know I just haven't yet,” you said shrugging. “That's ok, are you still down to or?” he asks, staring at you sheepishly.

“Of course I am, I just need you to be slow I guess,” you whispered to him. He glances at your lips for a minute, “I can do that.” he says before your lips crash onto one another.

His hand crept down to your ankle and slowly started to run his hand up your legs, he reached the end of your stocking. He hooked his fingers over the clothing and pulled them off your body repeating it for your other leg.

He looked into your eyes as he slipped his hands back under your skirt, hooking delicate fingers over your panties and slowly pulling them off your body. The feeling of his hands on your thighs was sending waves of pleasure to your core.

You've been horny before but nothing compared to the feelings you felt as your boyfriend slowly lowered to his knees. Kissing up and down your legs. “Are you doing ok?” he asks between kisses up your thighs.

“Y-yeah I'm good,” you said quietly, eyes watching Johnnie like a hawk. He smirks against your skin. He slowly pushes your skirt up your body revealing your bare legs. He placed a tender kiss on the top of your cunt.

You swore you could see stars with the amount of pleasure That coursed through you. The end of your fingers and toes felt tingly and cold. Johnnie moved up to face again, he slowly started to kiss you again. “M’gonna move my hand now. Like my fingers ok?” he said against your lips.

“Ok,” you whispered back, and you spread your legs widely for him. He slowly dipped his finger into your sopping cunt. You let out a gasp at the sensation. He slowly pumped his finger in and out of you. It felt good but it wasn't enough for you.

As if Johnnie could read your mind, he pumped out of you once again. When he entered back in he had two fingers this time. It stung for a second or two then pleasure returned to your body as he started to curve his finger into you.

“Oh fuck.” you moaned out, you can guess how people get addicted to this feeling. You felt like a little pervy teenager with raging hormones. The feeling of Johnnie hitting your G-spot repeatedly was sending you over the edge.

“Johnnie.” you mewled out, to nothing in particular. “I need more please,” you begged, having a sense of missing something. “If you insist on it my love.” he pulled out of you, his fingers dripping wet. You watched as he crouched down further.

He kissed slowly on your thighs before reaching your clit. He pressed a soft kiss right on your spot. You felt yourself clench over nothing and it drove you wild. He continued kissing down until he reached your hole. He slowly prodded his tongue into you.

Very gently at first to help you get used to the feeling. You felt the pleasure tenfold as soon as he began to rub your clit, fully pumping his tongue in and out of you. “Oh fuck hold on,” you murmured to him.

He stopped cocking his head slightly. You quickly snap off your corset, immediately releasing tension in your gut. You quickly pulled your shirt off, your bra going with it.

You were now naked minus the skirt bunched up around your waist. “M’fuck.” he whispered looking at your tits. He had what looked like a painful erection at this point. His skinny jeans looked like they were gonna burst open.

“You ready?” you asked him, gesturing to his painfully hard erection. “Fuck yeah,” he whined undoing his studded belt, he started to further undress himself. You followed suit pushing your skirt down.

Once he was completely naked, he leaned down and started to kiss you again. He wrapped his hand around his cock and pumped a few times attempting to get ready for your body. After about a minute he lined up his leaking cock to your entrance.

He slowly pushed into you. You let out a wanton gasp as he bottomed out. “Fuck.” he growled into your ear. He fumbled around trying to find your hand and brought it down to your clit. You started to rub to your pleasure.

At the same time, he started to push into you slowly at first then after a minute he began to push into you at a quicker pace. “Fuck your so tight. So glad I get this pussy all to myself,” he whined into your ear. You couldn't hold yourself anymore. The coil in your stomach was going to snap.

You felt The familiar feeling bubbling in your stomach and your limbs. “Im gonna fucking cum.” you whined out, grabbing at his torso and leaving a long scratch. Johnnie held your eye contact nodding at you.

The coil finally snapped, your walls clenching around him. “Johnnie-” you whined, your back arching. Your body shaking from your orgasm, sent him completely over the edge.

Hit ropes of cum splattered inside you as he fucked you through his own orgasm. Your breath slowly returned back to your body as you saw Johnnie cleaning your body up with a damp towel.

“Are you ok?” he asked quietly, tossing the rag into the laundry basket. He misses but he just took his girlfriend's virginity so he isn't particularly worried about where it landed. “Yeah I'm fucking great right now actually,” you murmured.

He giggles pulling his clothes back on. You did the same, pulling out your phone to see your makeup completely fucked. Your eyeliner and mascara dripped down, the sweat sucking your makeup into your skin, your lipstick beyond fucked.

You pulled out your phone and snapped one last photo for your Instagram