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surielstea · 24 days

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A Sudden Elopement

Based on this request.

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Reader and Azriel suddenly get married without telling any of the others, the silently watch while every one figures it out for themselves.

Warnings: just fluff.

A. Note: just a short fic because I feel bad for being inactive as of late :c but the good news is, is that I’ll be very active for Eris week!! So keep an eye out for more Vanserra content 😻🙏

1.7k words

My eyes drooped with exhaustion as I attempted to keep my focus on the book I was reading. I was seated between my mate's legs in his lap, leaning back against his chest while he combed his scarred fingers through my hair. I sighed and closed my book, deciding I didn't have enough energy to read another chapter. I tossed it to the side of the bed and shifted lazily, flipping around to meet his hazel eyes gazing down at me.

"How was your book?" He hummed and I mumbled something he couldn't decipher while pulling myself up and stuffing my nose into the crook of his neck.

"That good, huh?" He teased, his arms moving to wrap around my waist.

I nod, tightening my grasp on him, needing him closer, lazily clinging to him like moss to a damp wall, infectious and dependent. But he didn't seem to care, only returned my embrace with the same tenderness "We should get married," He said softly and my eyes widened, now fully awake.

"What?"

"We should get married," He repeated with a casual tone.

"As in, right now?" I tilt my head, raising a brow at him.

"Well," He gave me an incredulous look. "Not right now, eventually, I want to marry you," He reiterated. A soft smile pulls at my lips.

"We've only been dating for a few months," I argue and even in the dim lighting I can see him blush.

"Yes, and we've been best friends for a decade," He argues and my smile widens, I straddle over his hips, sitting up and debating it.

"Don't get me wrong, I'd marry you now if I could, but do you really want to go through the hassle of planning one?" I speak logically but it's as if he only heard the first half of my sentence.

"Let's get married, right now," He grinned wildly and I flushed pink. "We don't have to do the hassle, you hate parties anyway. It can be just us, somewhere far or close I don't care. I just want to marry you," He expressed, intertwining our hands as I debated the irrational and sudden decision.

"Though I love how eager you are, I don't have a dress— much less, we don't have rings," I explain. "And as rich as you are, your funds are not bottomless," I say but he remains looking at me with the same loving look.

"Tell me exactly how you want to do it, and that's how it'll be done," He prompts and lets go of my hands, favoring placing them on my waist as I leaned down on my elbow, propped up against his chest.

"Well, it being just us doesn't sound too bad," I say, tracing shapes on his bicep with my free hand. "And I'd want to have a pretty gown, and I'd want to have our ceremony somewhere beautiful." I flick my eyes up to meet his unfaltering gaze. "And rings, I want everyone to know we belong to each other," I add quickly and his smile grows.

"Anything else?" He tilts his head but I shake mine, cupping his face and leaning down, kissing his lips softly. "I think, I just want to be your wife," I finalized and that seemed to have pleased him because the next thing I know he's flipping me over and kissing down my neck. And despite my exhaustion, I knew sleep wouldn't come until dawn.

—————

"So, how was your trip?" Feyre said excitedly, settling into the barstool beside me.

Azriel and I had gotten back after a month's vacation only a day ago, but everyone was eager to catch up. So we landed ourselves at Rita's, a local bar beloved by the citizens of Velaris. "As romantic as it sounds," I say with a soft blush, propping my head into my hands.

"Gods, I wish Rhys would take me on a surprise trip like that," She sighed dramatically and my smile grew. We hadn't told anyone why we actually went, that our trip was more of a honeymoon, less of a vacation.

"I know," I turned back in my stool to look at my husband who was surrounded by his two brothers. "It's all still such a daze," I smile dreamily, looking back to my friend who was frozen in her seat, staring directly at the cut sapphire on my fourth finger.

"Are you engaged?!" She practically shouted and I giggled, shaking my head.

"Az and I decided to get married while we were gone," I shrug as if it was a casual thing. I didn't want it to be a big deal, because it wasn't really, we were the last of the group to tie the knot.

She just stares at me, slowly, she shifts her head back to the three males at the other end of the room, right at that chain around Azriel's neck, a silver ring hanging from it. He couldn’t wear rings because of his scars, but he still wanted to have that physical element of our marriage, as if to display how taken he was.

She nearly fell out of her chair at the realization, then tackled me into a hug, holding me tight as I giggled at her antics. "My gods, congratulations, I would have been sending gifts all week!" Feyre claimed and I shook my head at her nonsense while she pulled away.

"It's not a big deal Fey, if they haven't figured it out yet— you're the only one who knows," I smile broadly, looking back at Azriel, who happened to already be staring at me.

I brought my hand up, gesturing to the ring on my finger, then to his brothers. Silently asking if they notched yet. Azriel shook his head with a mischievous smile and I turned back to Feyre with a smirk. "I can't believe you guys didn't tell us," She huffed as if she'd failed me as a friend.

"As much as I would've loved for you to be there, it was hilarious watching how clueless you all were," I claim and she gives me a sidelong glare.

"Oh cmon," I lean over in my stool and bump her shoulder with mine. "Now you can be in on it. Who do you think is going to be last to figure it out?" I ask, gesturing to the group behind us who were all mingling with Azriel.

Feyre turned to look, the three-winged Illyrians all chatting with Morrigan, Nesta, Lucien, and Elain all accompanying them. "Cassian," She bets and I smirk, narrowing my eyes on the group.

"I think Rhys," I say, crossing my arms over my chest. Feyre cracks a smile. "Whoever's right pays the tab," She says, slipping out of her barstool and I nod, agreeing to the challenge even though I knew damn well Rhys would be covering the tab regardless.

We saunter over to the group, wicked smiles on our faces. Feyre goes to Rhys, intertwining their hands while I come to stand between Cassian and Azriel, my husband putting his arm around my shoulders. "What's that look for?" Azriel asked me, noticing the mischievous glint in my eyes.

"Feyre and I have a bet going, and that's all you need to know," I shrug and he arches a dark brow but doesn't say anything more while silky shadows swirl up my calves as if they were trying to beckon more information out of me but I didn't budge, just leaned into his side and watched Feyre as she tried her hardest to get her mate to realize the wings on me and Azriel's fingers, eager to win our bet.

It took much longer than I thought it would for them to realize. Lucien and Elain had spotted it that night, pulling me to the side to ask about it. Morrigan and Nesta had done the same one night later, interrogating me and Azriel as if we'd committed a crime, they seemed to think not telling them was against some friendship code.

But Rhys and Cassian hadn't noticed that night, or the next, or the next. It wasn't until I was training with Cassian and punched him square in the jaw that he caught sight of the ring on my finger. He brought his fingers to his cheek, wincing as he saw blood when pulling his hand away.

I cringed. "Sorry, I forgot to take my ring off," I murmured shamefully, taking the sapphire off my fourth finger. He paused, staring at me curiously, with no malice in his eyes despite the fact that I just drew blood.

"Where did you get that?" He tilted his head. I froze. Would it be considered cheating me and Feyre’s bet if I told him Az gave it to me?

"I'll give you one guess," I sent him a wink and his brows shot up.

"No way," He whispered. "He proposed?" His arms went out wide and shock. I fought back a laugh. "Well, yes, but we got married already, when we took that month off to go to the Summer Court? That was our honeymoon," I shrug and his eyes nearly bulge from their sockets.

"He didn't tell me!?" Cassian exclaimed as if he was the one to be married.

"We didn't tell anyone, everyone else already figured it out." I chuckled and his eye twitched. "Rhys doesn't know, me and Fey had a bet going to see how long it'd take," I shrug. "Turns out longer than expected." I hummed and he scowled.

"Well, you think you know someone," He huffs pathetically and I laugh.

"It's not like that Cass," I roll my eyes while walking over to my water and placing my wedding ring down beside it. If he was actually upset I don't know what I'd do, and I found myself thanking the gods when he cracked a smile, unable to keep the facade up for too long.

"Me and Az are going to have a long talk about this," He warned and I chuckled, getting back into my fighting stance on the mats.

"All I ask is that you return my husband in one piece," I say, smiling at the sound of calling Azriel my husband.

"Fine, but only if I get to be the one to tell Rhys he lost the bet." He hummed, getting into his own stance.

I grinned wildly, Feyre was going to rage. "Deal."

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hanjsquokka · 2 months

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when the cherry blossoms fall.

lee minho × fem!reader — soulmate au, high school au, time traveling, love at first sight, drawing closer × lovely runner, fluff/angst

summary — minho wasn't meant to see you there, falling for you before he even knew your name or why you were attached to that tube. fate was so cruel to bring you close, only to pull you away before he got to tell you those three little words he was keeping inside him. but when the same cruel destiny presented an opportunity to make things right, he wasn't going to let it slip away from him again.

warnings — mentions of illness, death, hospitals, time traveling, depression, characters are aged 18/19 for half of the story, blood (i don't want to spoil the whole plot so i'll just leave it at this)

word count — 6.7K words

soundtrack — listen here

author's note — drawing closer broke me. i have never cried so much, it was just so sad :(. i love writing high school au sm, it's a lot of fun. this layout is inspired by the lovely @starseungs <3 i hope you enjoy reading this. please reblog and comment, i'd love to hear your thoughts since this is something very different to what i've written before <33

The fan above him spun around with a loud creak, making more noise than giving him air. The environment was cold outside, with winter still clinging to the wind, making a chill run down his spine amidst his worry for his friend. Hyunjin was far too reckless for his own good—why did he never listen to Minho? He was right after all. He did that stupid skateboard stunt, and now look what happened. Minho had to bring him to the hospital because he was almost a hundred percent sure he broke his leg.

“You're not a teenager anymore, Hyunjin,” Minho chided as Hyunjin paid him no heed, too excited to ride the skateboard that he found in the dusty boxes of his garage. Once upon a time, Hyunjin was really good at skateboarding. But it had been years since then. “At least do something normal.”

“Normal is for losers.”

He shook his head, not wanting to recount the sound of the sickening crack of the skateboard followed by his friend's wail of pain. A wave of goosebumps formed over his skin as he tried to focus on something else, like how he would tell him I told you so when he saw him about how he could be as dumb as he was seven years ago and watch him roll his eyes. He gazed at the branch of the sakura tree he could see outside the window, still bare from the snowy months.

The faint smell of soap was followed by loud giggles. He turned his head to the source of the sound, eyes following on a couple young kids jumping up and down as they were surrounded by bubbles, dancing around a person sitting in a wheelchair.

That was when he saw you.

You blew another bout of the soapy spheres, the sunlight refracting through them and creating tiny, diffused rainbows. Your eyes nearly turned into crescents, crinkling at the corners as you laughed along with the children. Your smile was so contagious that he could feel the corners of his own lips tugging upward. It was like the filter of his eyes changed, and the world suddenly became more vibrant and colorful—just because of you. He didn't even notice the tube that ran along beneath your nose, the way you couldn't move your body beneath your waist, or the ill-fitting hospital gown you had on.

Minho couldn't tear his eyes away from you, not even when a nurse approached him to inform him of Hyunjin's condition. A quick snap brought him out of his trance, his ears turning red along with his cheeks. He quietly got up and shuffled behind the nurse towards the room Hyunjin was resting in.

Over the next week, Minho visited the hospital twice a day to meet Hyunjin, once in the morning before work and once in the evening after work. A couple of their other friends came every now and then, but it was mostly just Minho.

And he wanted to keep it that way.

Not to be disrespectful to his friend, but he wanted to see you without getting hounded by relentless teasing and possibly drive you away (not like he had ever spoken to you; no, this was all in his head).

There was something about you that drew Minho in, like a moth to a flame. Like he knew you from somewhere, but he couldn't put a finger on it.

The following Sunday, the day Hyunjin was being discharged, Minho was there at the hospital. He was miserably failing at operating the water cooler to quench his parched throat, his ears turning pink from the effort of trying to find out why water wasn't coming out of the faucet when he turned the knob.

“That thing has never worked,” a voice said from behind. You approached him in your wheelchair, a permanent smile on your face as you looked at him, hands folded in your lap.

“Oh…” He felt stupid.

“Here you go.” You handed him a plastic water bottle, which he gratefully took and took a few gulps, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I've seen you a lot around here; are you unwell?”

“Oh? No, no—my friend—he did something stupid and broke his leg. I didn't want to leave him alone.”

You nodded your head. “That's sad. Is he okay?”

Minho nodded. “He's okay enough to talk my ear off.” He chuckled, to which you chuckled in return. A warm, fluttery feeling rose on his chest at the thought of him making you smile. “Thank you... for the water.”

“No problem. You looked like you were going to break that.”

“Was I?” His face flushed, and he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand sheepishly at your words.

“What's your name?”

“Minho. What about you?”

“Y/n.”

Y/n… He liked that. He wanted to say something more—to keep talking to you so he could hear that voice of yours that made his heart tap dance in his rib cage when a group of kids ran up to you, talking over each other in excited giggles and shrieks. You laughed along with them as they tugged at your hand.

“I'm sorry. I'll see you again later?” He nodded quickly, forgetting that Hyunjin was going to be discharged. He had no reason to come back, but you wanted him to come back, right? Or were you just being polite in front of the kids so he wouldn't be reduced to a pile of shame?

Despite his conflicting thoughts, he found himself visiting the hospital every day without fail, hoping to at least catch a glimpse of you, and was surprised to see you waiting for him near the water cooler. That set your friendship in motion, with you talking endlessly every evening about anything and everything. The invisible red string that tied him to you brought him closer and closer. You were a siren, and he was a sailor entranced by your voice.

The weather grew warmer, and spring began to show itself in the trees and in the flowers. The snow-covered roads were no longer a hassle to drive on, and Minho could finally put away his boots, opting for a more comfortable pair of shoes for work and to visit you. Like clockwork, at five in the evening, he switched off his computer, shoved his papers into his work bag, and made a beeline for his car, no longer needing a map because he already knew the way.

You were there waiting for him in your room after he checked in at the reception, eager to tell him more tales and funny stories, anecdotes of other patients, and the kids you hung out with. Sometimes, you and he would talk for hours. Sometimes, you sat in silence, sketching away in your book, while he sat beside you, reading a book.

Minho showed you pictures of his three cats, which you dawned on almost immediately, cooing at the sight of the three kitties, making his heart melt. He wished he could bring them, but he couldn't, so he showed you as many videos and photos he could since they seemed to bring you immense joy.

Some days, however, you could hardly sit up, laying down on the bed with a grimace on your face. You thought you could hide from him, but he knew you were in pain. He was in pain, seeing you like that. You didn't mention it in your endless conversation, so he assumed you didn't like to talk about it.

He never asked you why you were in the hospital in the first place, why all the happiness drained out of your face when you tried to move in your wheelchair, why that tube sat above your pretty pink lips—he didn't see all that. He only saw you.

You and your wonderful smile.

You and your ability to light up his world.

You and the way you always made his heart skip a beat.

You and your beautiful eyes that he swore held galaxies inside; he could stare at them forever.

“I can't wait for the sakuras to bloom,” you said one day, the two of you sitting in the shade of a cherry blossom outside of the hospital. “It's my favorite part of the whole year.” But while you were looking at the budding pink blossoms, he was looking at your face.

He was falling. Falling hard. You were the first thought on his mind when he woke up and the last one when he went to sleep. He dreamed of you, sweet little fantasies of spending the rest of his life with you.

He knew you better than himself, that you liked pancakes drowned in syrup and berries on top, that you loved a specific type of daisy called a gerbera daisy—a flower that looked as vibrant as you, that you hated the thunder but loved the rain, and that you were an amazing artist. Your dreams of becoming a painter and having something in the Louvre Museum in Paris, visiting the top of Tokyo Tower, and swimming at the beach. It made you so happy to talk about them that it made him happy, grinning ear to ear as you animatedly explained all the details to him.

“Whoa, we were in the same class,” Minho said, eyes wide with shock as he looked at the yearbook in your hands. You were both on the topic of school when you found out that the place you were describing felt too similar. It was only when you talked about a certain math teacher that you realized it was the same person.

Minho dug through his old school things at home and found his yearbook; the insides of the cover were scribbled with so many names of people whom he used to call friends.

It was funny how you two had crossed paths before, but he had no recollection of you. He silently cursed at his past teenage self for not knowing you—then again, fate worked in different ways.

“Yeah, I was looking through it, and I saw your face. Weird, right?” He nodded, looking at the photo of you from seven years ago. You looked almost exactly the same, except now your hair has grown out much more. How had he never noticed you?

His feelings towards you have only increased since then, to the point where they felt suffocating to bottle up inside him. Like a volcano waiting to erupt. He took one look at your face and zoned out, completely missing what you said and barely covering up when you asked him for his opinion. He had to bite his tongue every time he almost blurted out that sentence that was marinating in his brain.

I love you.

“You're down bad,” Hyunjin told him after Minho confessed to having feelings for you after he was confronted about his visits to the hospital for the past two months. “Like bad bad. I never thought I'd see you like this.”

“I like her,” Minho admitted again. “A lot. Now that I've known her, I don't think I can go back to pretending she doesn't exist.”

“Then tell her.”

He paused. “Confess… to Y/n?”

Hyunjin let out an exasperated sigh, shifting his position on the couch. “Yes, Minho, proclaim your love to the woman you love.”

“Is that a good idea?”

“If you like her so much despite her problems, then it's worth a shot, don't you think? And I have a feeling she feels the same way.”

“You think so?”

“There is only one way to find out.”

There is only one way to find out.

Hyunjin was right. Minho should confess. No harm in doing that, right? He picked out his best shirt, tucking it into his pants, and looked at his reflection in the mirror, messing with his hair for a while before he gave up and let it be. He smoothed down the wrinkles in the crisp white shirt, wondering if he was too dressed up for this. He sprayed on some cologne that you had complimented the day he wore it and gave himself a pep talk as he drove to a flower shop.

With bright red gerbera daisies in hand, he took a few deep breaths in front of the hospital entrance. The cherry blossom trees were in full bloom, ready to fall at any moment. You would love to see them, he thought, smiling to see himself. If things went the way he wanted them to, he would bring you out here and sit at a bench. Maybe get some ice cream from the cafeteria and watch the sakura trees.

Minho steeled himself and walked inside, making his way to the front desk. It was a daily routine, but today was different. His hair on the back of his neck was on end, and his heart was beating uncomfortably loudly in his chest.

“I'm here to see Y/N,” he told the receptionist. He was expecting her to tell him to go down the hallway, take the elevator up to your floor, and go to your room, as he did every day. He didn't expect the nurse to look up at him with a solemn face, a jolt of panic going through him even before she said anything.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Lee. She passed away earlier today. Her illness suddenly became worse, and her body couldn't fight it.”

His heart dropped, along with the bouquet of red flowers in his hands. “What? But—but I was here yesterday. She was fine. How—” His vision blurred with tears as the nurse once again shook her head in sorrow. His ears rang loudly, hands gripping onto the countertop hard enough to make his knuckles white, his throat closing up as he felt like the whole world was crumbling in front of him. His heart was ripped out of his chest and trampled upon as the nurse explained to him and told him about your final resting place. She handed him an envelope, sealed with a sticker of a strawberry and his name written on the front in your handwriting.

He sat in his car and cried for a long time, his forehead resting on the steering wheel as sob after sob racked through his body. His throat ached and his eyes burned, but he couldn't stop crying. The world became dull again; the happiness and light that you once brought are gone. Even after he shed his last tear, his heart squeezed dry and now hollow, he still couldn't will himself to drive away; he couldn't make himself look at the envelope sitting next to him in the passenger seat.

Minho blasted the air conditioner and closed his eyes to take a few deep breaths, but he was plagued by visions of you, and the pain in his heart increased tenfold. He didn't know how long he was sitting there in his car, but he did know that he could never tell you how much he loved you, how you made his life worth living, and how he would cherish you with his whole heart for eternity.

I love you.

Dear Minho,

If you're reading this then… I must not be there anymore. Firstly, I want to thank you for making the last few months of my life so memorable. I loved every moment I spent with you, and I wish I could've had many more—perhaps a lifetime more. Thank you for making me smile when my heart felt heavy, for making me laugh when I felt like crying, and for showing me so much more love than I deserve.

Second, I want to tell you I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not telling you the full story of me, the reasons why I'm paralyzed below my waist, and why I was so sick I could barely move sometimes. Because when you were there, I wanted to be happy. I didn't want to think about my illness or the fact that I would die and leave you alone. It was too much to bear, although I thought about it every night.

All those dreams I told you about? The biggest one I had was to be with you. This is the third thing I wanted to tell you, but I never had the chance because I was too much of a coward, which is that I like you. No, I love you. I've loved you since we were in school. I recognized you in the hospital that day, and you didn't, but I was so happy to see you again, although I wish you didn't have to see me in that state, lying on my deathbed.

I love you so much, Lee Minho. I wish we had more time together, but I cherished every moment we had. I love you, and I always will. And I hope you do too.

Forever,

Y/n.

The words in your letter were permanently etched into his brain, a painful reminder of your absence and of how oblivious he was to your reciprocated feelings. He couldn't move for a few days, lying in bed, alternating between crying and simply staring at the ceiling, memories of you playing in his head again and again like a broken record he never wanted to fix.

Minho didn't visit you until Sunday, not wanting to believe the harsh reality of you not being with him anymore. He did his best to hide any remnant of his red eyes and puffy face, dressed in the shirt you liked, and bought red gerbera daisies once again to see you. He had to look good for you.

It took him a while to find you, but there you were.

In loving memory of a loving daughter and dear friend, Y/N L/N

(25.03.1999 - 10.04.2024)

“Hey,” his voice cracked. He stubbornly tried to blink at the tears forming in his eyes. Minho bit his lip, kneeling down to place the flowers in front of the tombstone and brushing some dirt off of the granite. “I miss you.” A wobbly smile formed on his face. He could almost see your face in front of him, a teasing glint in your eyes as you poked fun at him. He sniffled, turning away to wipe his eyes. “And you never gave me the chance to tell you that... that I love you too. I was nervous, and now I'm too late. I'm sorry, Y/n.” He choked on his words and stood up. “I would do anything to get you back.”

There was a cool breeze, ruffling his hair. He thought it was you and closed his eyes, imagining it was your hands carding through his air. He felt something fall on him—cherry blossoms. The wind carried them in a delicate dance, surrounding him and you in a flurry of pink petals.

“The sakuras are blooming,” he said sadly.

But you weren't here to see it.

The drive home was silent. Minho didn't put the radio on, half focused on the idle roads and darkening horizon. The cherry blossom trees all over the city were blooming, he noticed, as his car stood idle at a red light. He believed a part of him died along with you. You were his soulmate; that's what he liked to believe. You were connected in more ways than one, with destiny pulling on your strings to get you close and then snipping the thread at the last second.

The light turned red. He changed the gear and moved forward.

It all happened too fast: the rev of another car coming in from his side at a speed double that of the limit, him noticing too late as the front crashed to his left, his head flying into the window and breaking the glass into shards that wedged into his skin.

And then everything went black.

Minho's head shot up. Was he dead? Did he die in that car crash? His head was killing him; a throb was coming from deep inside his brain, making him wince and hold his head. But there was no blood on his hands when he pulled away. How was that possible?

“Are you okay?” He looked up. Hyunjin was approaching him along with a few other people he recognized as Bang Chan, Han Jisung, and... Kim Seungmin? He hadn't spoken to the last one since high school. “I think it hit you really hard.”

“What do you mean, I was in a—” He halted in his tracks. “What are you wearing?” Minho's eyes were trained on the gray blazer he was wearing, a gold pin affixed to the lapel. Underneath was a navy blue waistcoat and a white shirt collar peeking above.

Hyunjin blinked. “What do you mean?”

“No,” he said, letting out something that was a mix of a laugh and a scoff. “Why are you wearing that? Are you pulling my leg?”

“My… uniform?”

“Yah, Minho, did you hit your head that hard?” Jisung laughed, slinging an arm over his shoulder, making him bend.

“Of course I did, I—”

His mind clicked. They were standing on a field. Not just any old field—their school play field, where they used to play soccer every day after class. There was laughter and yelling all around him. Hyunjin, Jisung, Chan, and Seungmin—even Minho himself—were wearing the same clothes. Gray blazer, white shirt, gray slacks, and the gold pin. Some were wearing the navy blue waistcoat and a tie, but it was the same thing from seven years ago.

“This isn't funny; why are we here?” This had to be some joke, courtesy of Jisung. He was a prankster, but this was taking it too far.

“Minho, are you sure you're okay? Do you need to go to the nurse?” Chan had worry written all over his face.

Minho glanced at each of them, getting more and more confused by the second. His eyes flitted down to his clothes and back up, at the other students, the school building, and back to his friends.

“Maybe he has a concussion,” Seungmin quipped. “I told those rugby guys to take it down a notch.”

Those words sounded familiar. A sense of deja vu washed over him, his hair pricking on end, and a light bulb went off in his head.

This has happened before.

“Hey, Lee Minho... You're scaring me.” Hyunjin's hand held his left bicep and shook him.

“This happened before... Why am I here? I graduated school seven years ago...” He muttered underneath his breath.

“What are you saying? I think we need to take you to the nurse.”

Minho cut Chan off. “Today, what is today's date?”

“April 10th, why?”

“The year, Seungmin.”

“2017—”

The air was knocked out of his lungs. He was in the past. Seven years in the past. He was still in his last year of high school, liked playing soccer, never wore the uniform correctly, and was still friends with Kim Seungmin.

“Y/n…”

You would be alive. If he was right and he was somehow transported back in time to when he was in school, you would be alive. You would be okay, not lying in a hospital bed, unable to move, waiting for your illness to consume you.

He had another chance.

“Y/n? You mean from our class? Why d—”

Minho leaped at Hyunjin, his eyes blazing with determination. He held his shoulders as he spoke again. “Where is she?”

“I think she was leaving?”

That was all Minho needed to know. He quickly grabbed his bag and bolted down the field onto the pavement that led to the main gate. He could hear his friends calling for him; they were undoubtedly confused by his behavior, but that didn't matter. All he had to do was make sure you were alive. He spotted a girl walking, a backpack slung over her back.

There was only one way he could find out.

“Y/n?” He called, hoping he wasn't making a fool of himself in front of someone else.

The girl turned, and his heart stopped.

It was you, a younger version of you, the one from the yearbook, looking at him with a confused tilt of your head. He could see your lips move, probably saying his name, but he couldn't hear it. There was a gust of wind, the breeze urging him to surge forward, and he did, colliding into your body and embracing you tightly. His breaths were uneven, tears forming in his eyes as he rested his chin on top of your head, his fingers brushing through your hair.

“You're okay…” He squeezed you tighter.

You were the first one to pull away; your cheeks were tinted pink. You couldn't meet his eyes. “Why did you do that? Is something wrong, Minho? Of course I'm okay.”

Minho felt something fall on his shoulder. A sakura. The cherry blossom trees were blooming, showering the two of you with a cascade of pink petals. His eyes searched yours, but he could only see bewilderment. A relieved laugh escaped him. He squatted on the ground and covered his face with his hands.

He got another chance.

Another chance with you.

He looked back up at you and felt a multitude of emotions bubble up in him, but the main one was love.

“Yeah, you're okay.”

“You're acting weird.”

“Can I walk you home?”

“Sure, but—”

“Great.”

Minho was all smiles; he couldn't stop it. His heart was beating out of his chest as he walked alongside you, gripping onto the strap of his bag, his ears turning pink every time your shoulders brushed his. He was beyond happy, relieved, and excited, all at the same time. He tried to fill the silence of the walk by asking you questions like how your day had gone, what you ate for lunch, and if he could walk home with you every day.

You were completely flustered and confused; he could see that. It must be weird for you for him to come talk out of nowhere. He remembered that you had liked him since high school, so that means this would work out. He just had to act normal and make sure he would change your fate and his, to make sure that you would be with him forever.

“This is me,” you awkwardly gestured to the house the two of you had stopped in front of.

Minho nodded, feeling a little upset that you had to go away too soon. “Right… Well, I'll see you tomorrow.”

You bit your lip. “Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow, Minho. Get home safe.”

“I will,” he grinned and waved goodbye before he set for his house, turning around one last time to see you on the porch if your house was doing a happy dance, which made him laugh, his face flushing red.

You were okay.

And so was he.

It took him a while to find his own house in the unfamiliar neighborhood he was in. He missed living in his parent's place, with his mother's home-cooked food that he hadn't eaten in ages. When was the last time he visited his mom and dad? He eagerly went up to the door and opened it, the familiar sight of the entryway making him nostalgic.

“Someone's all smiles today,” his mom said with a chuckle, watching him untie his shoes and put on his house slippers. His mother looked younger than he had last seen her, wearing a cardigan. He remembered that she said that it had shrunk in the washing machine. It was brand new now. “Did you have a good day today, sweetheart?”

“The best. I'll be in my room,” he said, almost tripping over his two feet in giddiness as he went up the stairs to his bedroom. It looked exactly the same as he used to have it. He threw his bag onto the floor and then himself onto his bed, breathing in the smell of the detergent on the bedsheets.

“This is crazy,” he said to himself. If all of this was a dream, he never wanted to wake up. Maybe he was in a coma from the car crash, but it all felt too real. He remembered this day happening before: getting hit in the head by a rugby ball, and Seungmin chiding the guys who were playing with it. This was obviously not a prank; everyone looked younger and was befuddled, looking at him like he was nuts.

He time-traveled. Actually, time traveled back to the past to save you.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He even had his old phone.

Hyunjin: Minho, you're okay, right? You were acting really weird.

Minho: Yeah, I'm fine. I think I got hurt more than I thought I did.

Hyunjin: Okay 🤨

Hyunjin: Why did you run off like that, though? You don't even talk to Y/N, and suddenly you were acting as if she were on the verge of death?

Minho : I just needed to check something.

Hyunjin: You're weird. Get some sleep and don't be late tomorrow again, or Seung's going to kill you.

Minho: I won't 🙄

He was back in 2017. He was a teenager again.

“This is so cool.”

It was something straight out of a movie. Minho felt like he was living in a fever dream, being able to relive his adolescence. Since he knew how much he could lose, he made sure to make this second chance worth it. Instead of skipping meals and eating from the vending machine, he scarfed down whatever delicious meal his mother made, making both of his parents laugh at his sudden switch in behavior.

“Eat slowly, or you'll choke,” his dad said with a chuckle when Minho piled on more food and eagerly shoved it down his throat.

He took the opportunity to join a dance class like he did when he was a kid, knowing that he regretted not doing it years later.

Instead of wasting time in class and being moody, he studied—trying to study.

Then again, he had you to help. Y/N, the wise one, teased when the two of you sat together in the library during lunch on the premise of studying, but you mostly ended up laughing so hard that the librarian kicked the two of you out.

He spent more time with his friends, doing everything he was bitter about later in life.

Months passed by like this. Minho woke up in his bed every day, was greeted by his 2PM posters on his wall, ate breakfast with his parents, and went to school. He daydreamed about you in class, much to the suspicions of his friends, and walked home with you. He had to make sure nothing happened to you that would derail his plan for the perfect future.

“Do you like Y/N?” Hyunjin asked during lunch one day, pulling a chair out in front of him with a loud scraping noise. It was autumn, and the air was much colder in the mornings than it was a few weeks ago. The cherry blossom trees were barren, awaiting spring to bloom once more.

“Good afternoon to you too, Hyune.” Minho greeted him and continued to eat his lunch.

“Don't deflect my question. Do you like her or not?”

“And if I do?”

Hyunjin's eyes went so big that Minho thought they'd fall right out of their sockets. “Seriously?”

“Why is it that interesting to you?”

“Oh, this is a golden opportunity.” Hyunjin leaned forward with his elbows on the desk.

“Why are you so interested in my love life?”

“Please, the last time you admitted to having a crush, it was on the idol singer Lee Hyori. I have a right to be curious.” Minho rolled his eyes, but he was a bit flustered. He still hadn't thought of how he would take the relationship with you to the next level. The last time he planned to confess, well, that didn't end well. “What do you like about her? She's pretty; I get that. And she's really good at art, and she's smart.”

“Have you made your point?” He raised a brow.

Hyunjin let out a frustrated sigh. “You're so mean, Lee Minho.” He hit his shoulder lightly. “I'm just saying this, okay? But I accidentally eavesdropped on a conversation her friends were having—an accident, okay? And I think I heard Y/n's name moving in the same sentence.”

Minho choked, his face turning red as he coughed, picked up his water bottle to drink some water, and took big gulps of air afterwards. “What?”

Hyunjin's words haunted him the whole day and then the next day because you weren't coming to school, nor were you answering his texts. He was trying hard to not look desperate, but he was grasping at straws.

The weekend rolled around, and he was getting worried. What if Hyunjin was right and you had moved away? But you wouldn't do that without telling him, right? The two of you were friends.

Friends.

His mother had the worst timing when she sent him to pick up some things from the store—a loud crack of thunder and the pitter-patter of raindrops began the second he stepped into the convenience store. He grabbed the things he needed as well as an umbrella, purchasing all of them at the register before standing outside underneath the umbrella.

That was when he caught the familiar sight of your form, crouching on the side of the road next to a small ball of fluff. The umbrella you were using barely covered you, as you were instead shielding a pair of kittens and cooing at them.

Minho's heart leaped into his chest, his legs moving on their own towards you and standing right next to you, covering you with his own umbrella. You looked up and then at him, a smile breaking out on your face, but this time he didn't return it.

“What happened to you? You disappeared for two days, and Hyunjin said you were moving and you weren't responding to me and—”

“Whoa, Min, breathe,” you chuckled and stood up. “What moving? I'm not moving. My friend is.”

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. “Oh.”

You laughed. “Were you worried about me?”

“Of course I was,” he blurted out, his cheeks flushing. He cleared his throat and looked away from you, his heart dancing in his ribcage. He'd planned to do this once before, but standing in front of you, all the courage drained right out of him, and he was left as a puddle of nerves. “So why didn't you come to school then?”

“I was sick.”

“You were sick. And you were out here standing in the rain for two cats?” He shook his head. “Hold this.” He pushed the umbrella he was holding into your hands and quickly shed his jacket, putting it over your shoulder and pulling the hood over your head, using it to try and dry your hair. “You're going to get sick again.” His hands stopped at the sides of your face, his lips parting as he looked into your eyes.

“Thank you…” Your face was also turning red at the proximity between the two of you that he just noticed.

Minho swallowed the lump in his throat. Now or never. “I need to tell you something.”

“What?”

“I couldn't tell you this before because I was too scared, but now I know how much I have to lose.”

“What are you saying, Min?”

“Just let me finish, okay?” He took a deep breath, pushing a stand of wet hair out of your face. “I… I like you, Y/N. For a really long time, longer than you think.”

He waited with bated breath for your answer. “I like you too, Minho. I've liked you for a while now.”

He couldn't wait anymore. It was obviously too forward of him, but he'd been dreaming of this for way too long, and he wasn't going to let it slip through his fingers again. He pulled your face towards his and crashed his lips onto yours. You let out a muffled sound of surprise, but you reciprocated it, the umbrella falling out of your hands and onto the ground with a thud. Your arms rested on his shoulders while his drifted down to your waist, holding you in an embrace as he tenderly kissed you. Fireworks went off inside him. He could feel the thundering of your heart right above his. The two of you were soaked from the relentless rain, but he could care less.

He broke the kiss, his forehead leaning on yours as he took a few breaths. “Sorry, I just really wanted to do that.” It was a half-baked apology since he wasn't very sorry at all. His eyes were closed, taking in the intimacy of the moment.

“I liked it; don't worry. Just warn me next time, okay?”

Minho couldn’t help but tease you. "Oh, so you want a next time?” He laughed loudly when you hit his arm. “Of course there will be a next time; I plan on giving you many, many kisses.” He planted another one on your forehead to prove his point. He closed his eyes again and hugged you tightly.

Minho's head felt like it was splitting in two. Where was he? He blinked his eyes open, the white light above him causing him to groan. His clothes didn't feel wet anymore, and he was lying down with a white blanket over him. He lifted his hand up, only to see it was bandaged.

“Why—”

Memories of the car crash flooded his mind, and a flash of panic went through him. “No, no, no, no, no.” Was that really just a dream? Were you really gone? He felt tears pricking the corners of his eyes, his chest heaving up and down until—

“Thank God you're awake,” a voice said. He felt a hand brush the hair off of his forehead. The voice sounded too much like yours. But it couldn't be. All of that was in his imagination.

Then you came into focus, your face filled with worry and your eyes pink, like you'd been crying for a while.

“Y-Y/n?” He lifted his bandaged hand up to your cheek. He needed to know you were real. He let out a sob of relief when he felt the warmth of your skin beneath his palm and then your own hand covering his. “You're here…”

“Of course I'm here, silly. Where else would I be?”

He pulled you onto him, tucking your head into his chest, and kissed the top of your head as a few tears rolled down his cheek. “Thank goodness.” He held you like that for a while, taking in the comforting scent of your perfume mixed in with the smile of your shampoo. “What happened?”

“Your car crashed on your way home from work... you don't remember?”

“That happened?”

“Yeah, the doctor said you had a concussion. You weren't waking up... I was so scared.”

His heart broke at your words. “I'm never leaving you, ever. You can't get rid of me that easily.” You let out a broken laugh and clung onto him. He let out a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Minho was discharged a day later. The doctor said he might experience temporary amnesia due to his head trauma and that he'd regain his memories soon. He still couldn't believe everything that had happened. He'd managed to save you. You were here with him.

The two of you took a stroll in the park, hand in hand, underneath the cherry blossoms trees. “Hey, Y/n?” He said softly, making you turn to him with a soft hum. “I love you.”

You smiled. “I love you too, Minho.”

That was all he needed to hear. A breeze shook the branches of the trees and the sakuras fell once again. He squeezed your hand and continued to walk alongside you as the pink petals and flowers showered on him, and this time, you were by his side. Where you were meant to be.

©hanjsquokka | copying, translating or republishing my work is strictly prohibited

#k-labels #neverendingdreams-net #stray kids #skz #lee know #lee know x reader #lee know fluff #skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #lee know imagines #stray kids lee know #skz lee know #stray kids imagines #lovely runner #drawing closer

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quinzzelx · 4 months

Text

No need to decide

Azriel/Cassian/Rhysand x Fem! Reader

Summary: This is porn without plot. You drink with your friends and it turns into something heated.

Word Count: 6700

Warnings: Smut, 18+! Fouresome, DP, Oral fem and male receiving, Deep Throating, Slight Shadow Play, Overstimulation

A/N: Well- this was fun to write. I have a lot of other stuff coming up the next days. Several WIP's and Requests :) Hope you enjoy this filthy piece of my imagination. I haven't proofread it yet and this might be a little straight forward lol...

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Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand fixate their eyes on you with an intense fire, their stances exuding a raw, untamed power. "We've been looking for you! We were worried sick when you didn’t return," Azriel strides towards you and gently grips your face. "Don’t ever disappear like that again. I thought I lost you."

"I'm sorry, Az..." you sigh, meeting their concerned gazes. All of you are still bloodied from battle, dried blood clinging to your skin. "How about we let the evening be like the good old days? Just drinking and relaxing?" You pat Azriel on the shoulder and give Cassian and Rhys a soft smile. They all nod in agreement, the tension in their shoulders easing, although concern still lingers in their eyes.

"That sounds like a great idea. Let's go to the council room, we have some good wine stored there. I'll just quickly head up to my room and clean up. You all should too, you reek," you chuckle as you walk past them, heading up the stairs to your room. After a quick bath and changing into a silk pajama set, you return downstairs to find the three already sitting in the sitting area.

"I can see you already started without me," you tease, and their gazes immediately shoot up to you. Cassian whistles lowly, admiring your appearance. "Damn, you look good enough to eat."

"We didn't start without you, just got here a bit early," Rhysand explains with a grin, leaning back into the chaise. "Only you, Y/N. Only you," he chuckles.

You join them, grabbing a bottle of wine and taking a swig straight from it, earning surprised yet amused looks from your friends. "Like good old times, right?" you beam, and Cassian agrees, grabbing a bottle for himself. "See! I know why I like Cassy best!" you tease, earning a chuckle from Azriel.

As you all engage in casual chatter and laughter, you start to feel the buzz of the alcohol. "I'm bored," you announce, leaning back and watching them lounging around the sitting room. "Can we play something?"

Azriel raises an eyebrow at you, a smirk playing on his lips. Cassian grins and sits up, finishing his bottle before responding, "Bored, Y/N? Let's play something like... Truth or Drink, perhaps?"

"Remember when we played Truth or Drink back in Rhys' cabin in Windhaven?" you reminisce with a smile, earning a snort from Rhysand. "Yes, we got bat shit drunk, and my mother was so angry at us for weeks because Cassian broke not only one but two doors," he chuckles, recalling the memory fondly.

Azriel's laughter joins the mix, his deep voice resonating in the room as he watches the playful exchange between you and Cassian. "Those were the days," he comments, his gaze nostalgic. He finishes his drink and sets the bottle aside, leaning forward with interest. "We could definitely play that again. Who wants to start?"

Sitting up straighter, full of energy, you announce, "I think I'd like that! Who wants to start?" Cassian, ever the instigator, leans forward, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Placing his empty bottle on the table, he pokes you in the side, then leans back, chuckling. "I'll start. Truth or dare, Y/N?"

Though momentarily confused, you quickly join in the fun. "I thought we were playing Truth or Drink? But I'm fine with this too!" Your grin broadens, accepting the challenge. "Dare!" The three friends share a look, each a bit surprised at your bold choice. Cassian pauses, evidently not expecting you to choose Dare. "Remember, if we don't want to do something, we have to drink!" you remind them, shooting Cassian a daring look. "Come on, Lord of Bloodshed, give me your worst." Cassian's surprise gives way to a hearty laugh. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and looks at you with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Alright, here's your dare: go outside and fly around the block. But here's the catch—you have to do it in your underwear."

Your eyes widen in mock horror. "I'm way too drunk to fly!" you exclaim, laughing and playfully swatting at his arm. "Give me something I can actually do!"

Cassian's laughter fills the room, his earlier mischief replaced with amusement at your reaction. "Alright, alright, let's keep it grounded. How about this then: you have to serenade us with the most embarrassing song you know, right here, right now."

Grinning broadly, you nod, accepting the modified challenge. "You asked for it," you warn, rising to your feet with a playful sway. As you clear your throat dramatically, Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian lean back, each one wearing an expression of delighted anticipation. You launch into an off-key, dramatically overacted rendition of a notoriously silly love ballad, complete with exaggerated gestures and melodramatic expressions.

Laughter and cheers fill the room, the earlier tension dissolving into an evening of joyful camaraderie. Azriel watches you with a soft smile, his eyes reflecting pride and affection, thoroughly enjoying the light-hearted side of you.

Now it was your turn to direct the game. You turned towards Rhys, who was already eyeing you with an amused, anticipatory smile. "Rhys, truth or dare?"

Rhys leaned back, his expression turning mischievously sly. "Dare."

You paused, a spark of mischief lighting up your own eyes. "Use your powers to show me one of your dirtiest dreams," you challenged, eager to see if he'd take on the dare or opt for a drink instead.

Rhys's eyes narrowed slightly, a grin unfurling across his face. He extended his hand to grasp yours, a ripple of power coursing through the contact. Suddenly, your vision blurred as he shared a vivid memory—his dream flooding your senses.

You gasped, your cheeks flushing as the explicit scene unfolded in your mind's eye. It was shockingly graphic, and you couldn't help but blush even deeper when Rhys's voice echoed in your thoughts.

Feeling his amusement, Rhys released your hand and leaned back, watching your flustered reaction with a chuckle. "Well, did I pass your dare or not?"

Your eyes were wide, your mouth agape. "I... I didn't expect that. I mean, it was definitely graphic," you managed to stammer out, still reeling from the intensity of the dream. You tried to lighten the mood with a tease. "If you're packing that much in reality and not just in your dreams, your mate is indeed fortunate."

Laughter erupted around the room, the tension breaking as Cassian and Azriel joined in the mirth. Rhys just smirked, pleased with your reaction.

"You're up, Rhys. Why don't you ask our dear Shadowsinger here?" you said, nudging the game along. Rhys turned to Azriel with a playful glint in his eye. "So, Az, truth or dare?"

Azriel's expression was unreadable for a moment before a smirk played at the corners of his mouth. "Dare," he responded confidently. Rhys's smile broadened. "I dare you to kiss the most attractive person in the room."

Azriel's eyebrows raised in mock surprise, then he turned to look directly at you. His smirk deepened. "Challenge accepted." He stood gracefully, crossed the room in a few strides, and sat down next to you. Leaning in close, he pressed a brief, soft kiss on your lips before pulling away with a light chuckle. You blushed furiously, caught off guard by the sudden contact. "Your lips are very soft, Az," you murmured quietly, meant only for him to hear. Azriel's grin widened as he leaned in, his voice a whisper against your ear. "I could say the same for yours."

The room filled with chuckles and light-hearted banter. Cassian whistled, and Rhys laughed, clearly enjoying the turn of events. Now, it was Azriel's turn to steer the game. He looked at you with a playful challenge in his eyes. "Y/N, truth or dare?"

Considering the electric atmosphere and his intoxicating closeness, you replied with a hesitant, "Dare?" Azriel's eyes sparkled with mischief. "I dare you to wrap your arms around me and pull me in for a kiss," he said, his voice low and enticing.

"What, again?" you asked, teasing him lightly. "Don't tell me you kissed me once and already can't get enough."

His chuckle was warm, filling the space between you. "Maybe I just enjoyed it?" Azriel's hands reached out, pulling you closer as he tilted his head, capturing your lips in a slow, lingering kiss.

The kiss deepened, and you found yourself melting into him, the lines of friendship blurring into something more tender and profound. Cassian's playful voice broke through, adding a flirtatious edge to the night. "Truth or dare, Y/N?" he whispered, sitting close behind you now. You didn’t even hear him cross the room. As his hot breath Fans across the back of your neck, the rules of the game completely forgotton.

Caught between Azriel's lips and Cassian's whispered challenge, you managed a breathless, "Dare?"

Cassian's warm breath tickled your ear, his hands gently tracing circles on your waist. With a sly grin and a gaze full of mischief, he leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "I dare you to stand and strip off your shirt. Let's see what you're hiding under there."

Blushing deeply at his boldness and the intensity of the situation, you hesitated. "I...I'm not wearing anything underneath... this is just my sleepwear," you murmured, a mix of embarrassment and challenge in your voice. As you fumbled with the silk shirt, your wings awkwardly in the way and your movements clumsy from the alcohol, Azriel stepped in. Silently, he helped lift the fabric over your head with gentle ease.

As your shirt fell away, exposing your bare skin to the cool air, Cassian's gaze intensified, drinking in every detail of your newly revealed form. Rhys, no longer content to observe from a distance, rose from his seat and approached with a purposeful stride.

"Allow me," Rhys murmured, his voice a low caress as he reached out to steady you. His fingers brushed your chin, lifting your face as he leaned in to capture your lips in a tender yet insistent kiss. Meanwhile, Cassian wasted no time in exploring the skin now bared before him. His fingers grazed your stomach, slowly making their way up to tease your nipples, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.

Caught in the sudden escalation, you gasped, your body responding despite your confusion. "What's happening?" you breathed out, your mind reeling as the game of truth or dare seemed to blur into something more intimate. "Weren't we playing a game?"

"Yes, but it seems we've all become quite..." Rhys paused, breaking the kiss, his voice thick with desire as he stepped back, allowing Azriel his turn. "distracted..." A devilish glint sparked in Rhys's eyes as he turned to Azriel, challenging him. "Truth or dare?" he asked, his tone laden with implications.

Azriel, his gaze fixed intensely on your exposed body, took a deep breath, his desire palpable. Without hesitation, he reached out, his hand cupping your breast, thumb teasing your nipple with deliberate strokes. "Dare," he breathed out, his voice rough.

Rhys smiled wickedly, stepping back to give Azriel space, his eyes alight with anticipation. The scent of arousal hung heavy in the air surrounding you. Rhys' eyes darkened as he observed the unfolding scene with predatory interest. "Azriel," he challenged with a smirk, "I dare you to make her climax."

At the daring proposition, your eyes—wide with desire—met Azriel's. His gaze, alight with raw lust, held yours as he leaned close, his breath searing against your ear. His fingers resumed their tantalizing dance across your nipples, pinching gently, eliciting a sharp gasp from your lips. "Ah, Azriel," you moaned, your gaze hooded, body arching towards his touch.

Cassian's chuckle vibrated against your neck as he pressed himself closer, his lips grazing your skin. "You're breathtaking," he whispered, his hands exploring downward to grip your hips, his hardness pressing insistently against you.

"What's happening?" you gasped, caught between them, your mind a whirl of sensation and confusion.

"You're not dreaming," Rhys assured with a soft laugh, his hands gliding down between your breasts. His lips captured yours in a deep, exploring kiss, his tongue mirroring the actions of his hands.

Lost in the kiss, you barely registered Azriel's hand slipping down the front of your pants. But his withdrawal, fingers glistening with your arousal, snapped you back to the present. "You're so wet for us, love." He pressed his wet fingers to your lips, and you sucked them clean, your eyes locked on his, wide and filled with lust.

The three shared a look of pure desire. Cassian's grip tightened on your hips as he pulled you flush against him, grinding his hard cock against your ass. "I want you so badly," he growled, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss.

As the kiss deepened, Azriel's hands ventured lower, sliding your silk shorts down, leaving you bare before the trio of fully clothed Illyrians. His fingers resumed their work, now directly on your heated flesh, teasing your clit before plunging deep inside you. The sensation overwhelmed you, and your knees buckled. Cassian supported you, his strong arms wrapping around you as Azriel drove his fingers deeper, faster.

Rhys stepped closer, his hands caressing your breasts. "You're magnificent like this," he murmured. Overwhelmed by their touches, you managed to gasp out, "Need you," as waves of pleasure built within you, your gaze meeting Rhys violet eyes as you come on Azriels fingers with a scream. "Fuck, Azriel!" The Shadowsinger keeps his fingers working inside of you, bringing you close to another orgasm immediately. Shit, they were your undoing.

Cassian scooped you up effortlessly, carrying you to the chaise lounge. He laid you down, his body hovering over yours as he began a tantalizing trail of kisses down your body. "So you want to fuck all of us, hm?" he mused, his breath hot against your exposed skin.

"Yes," you breathed out, desperation lacing your voice. "I want all of you." As Cassian's mouth found your core, his tongue expertly coaxing pleasure from every stroke.

Azriel's hot breath tickled your ear as Rhysand tended to your nipples, groping and kneading your breasts. "You're dripping wet, love," Azriel murmured, his words sending shivers down your spine. With each passing moment, the anticipation grew, the air thick with raw desire.

Belts click and shuffle, as they freed their massive cocks, your eyes widened with a mixture of anticipation and arousal. "Fuck, you're huge," you gasped, your hands instinctively reaching out to wrap around Azriel's cock while your other hand flew around Rhys's.

Azriel groaned at your touch, his hips bucking into your hand as Rhys's attentions intensified on your nipple. "You're going to let us fuck your pretty cunt, aren't you?" Azriel's question hung in the air, met with your eager nod and a firm grip on their cocks. "Yes," you panted, your need echoing in the room. Cassian's growl reverberated against your core as he continued to feast on you. "Good girl," he praised, the vibrations sending you spiraling closer to the edge. "We're going to Fuck you and fill you up until you're screaming our names."

Your body arched, senses overwhelmed as another orgasm approached. "Fucking hell, Cass," you moaned, your hands working Azriel and Rhys with fervor. Azriel's groan mingled with your moans as he guided your mouth towards him. "I want to fuck your mouth," he confessed, his cock eagerly welcomed by your hungry lips. With hunger akin to a starving woman, you eagerly took him in, moaning at the taste of him. Azriel's praise spurred you on as you hollowed your cheeks, bobbing your head with abandon, focusing on driving him to the brink of ecstasy.

As Cassian continued his assault on your core, Rhys's attentions on your breasts intensified. "Fuck, I can't wait to be inside you," Cassian growled, his tongue working magic on your clit. Your moans reverberated around Azriel's cock, driving him closer to the edge.

With each thrust into your mouth, Azriel's groans grew louder, his hips moving faster. "You're going to make me cum if you keep doing that," he warned, the sensation of your mouth driving him wild.

Gasping for breath, you released Azriel's cock as Cassian withdrew from your core. “You take me so well.” Azriel's praise sent a shiver down your spine, his whispered words igniting a fire within you. The primal desire in their eyes mirrored your own, and in that moment, there was no turning back. Many years of friendship, growing up together, winning battles and wars. And here you were, drunk on wine and lust as your three best friends ravished your body.

Cassian's impatience is palpable as he declares his inability to wait any longer. With a firm grip on your thighs, he hoists you up, swiftly discarding his pants to reveal his thick length. Settling back onto the couch, he leans against the backrest, anticipation evident in his eyes.

Your breath catches as he pulls you down onto him, your back molding against his chest as his cock glides through your soaked folds. A sharp yelp escapes your lips at the suddenness of the sensation, Cassian's grip on your hips only adding to the intensity. He throws his head back in ecstasy, a low groan rumbling from his throat as he lazily rubs your clit, causing you to squirm beneath him. Your wings flex against Cassian's chest, adding to the intoxicating intimacy of the moment. Rhys's appreciative gaze sweeps over you, his eyes dilated with desire as he takes in every detail. He leans forward with a feline smirk, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss.

"What do you want, Darling?" Rhys's voice is low and daring, his violet eyes gleaming with mischief as they meet yours. He grunts at the sight of your flushed cheeks and swollen lips, evidence of how you had them wrapped around Azriel’s Cock just moments before. His admiration is evident as he takes in the streaks of tears and drool on your face.

"Gods, you look good like this," he murmurs before claiming your lips again, his tongue exploring your mouth with fervor, licking into it, teeth clashing against each other in the heated kiss. As Cassian grinds against you, his cock teasing your slick cunt with every movement, you're unable to hold back your moans, each drag through your folds eliciting a desperate response that escapes into Rhys's mouth.

Suddenly, you feel something cold slither up your legs, sending shivers down your spine as it trails along your back like gentle caresses. Shadowy tendrils dance around your form, exploring every inch of your body with an eerie yet tantalizing touch.

Amidst the heated atmosphere, Azriel's voice cuts through with a dark allure. "My shadows are eager to explore your body too," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear as he leans in closer. "They long to feel every curve, every inch of your skin, and indulge in the pleasure of the sounds you make." His words send a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. As Cassian's warm breath caresses your neck from behind, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, you feel a shiver run down your spine. "Tell me, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice dripping with desire, "have you ever been fucked in that pretty little ass of yours?"

A furious blush spreads across your cheeks at his bold question, rendering you momentarily speechless. Unable to form coherent sentences, you simply nod in response, feeling the weight of their intense gazes fixed upon you, each one watching your every move.

"We need words, angel," Azriel adds, his touch sending electric pulses through your body as he drags a scarred thumb over your bottom lip. Almost instinctively, your tongue slips out, drawing his thumb into your mouth and sucking on it eagerly, eliciting a low groan from Azriel's lips.

"Yes, I've been fucked in my ass before," you admit, your voice hoarse from the earlier throat-fucking. "Good," Cassian hums in response, his cock dragging through your wetness, coating himself in your slick as he positions himself at your asshole. With gentle pressure, he begins to push into you, urging you to relax. Your eyes roll back, your head falling back onto Cassian's shoulder as you feel the stretch.

"Oh, fuck," you groan, the mixture of pleasure and pain coursing through you as Cassian gradually sinks deeper inside you, until he's fully sheathed. "Do you like having my cock up your ass?" Cassian grunts, starting to thrust into you, his movements deliberate and controlled.

"Yes!" you mewl, your pussy twitching and clenching around nothing, craving the sensation of being filled. "Need one of you in my cunt," you whimper, your pussy dripping with anticipation, yearning for attention. Azriel and Rhys exchange a glance, wordlessly communicating their next move. Azriel then positions himself in front of you, propping one leg onto the edge of the chaise lounge, his knees bent and angled as he aligns himself with your cunt.

Azriel thrusts into your drenched hole, his groans mingling with your gasps as you feel yourself being filled so thoroughly. Sandwiched between the two Illyrians, you're overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through your body. "Fuck, you feel so good," Azriel moans, his movements becoming more urgent as he seeks out every inch of your warmth.

Cassian grunts into your ear, his voice husky with desire as he whispers sweet praises, his words sending shivers down your spine. "You're so tight, angel," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. "Fuck, you take me so well."

His words fuel your arousal, igniting a fire within you as he continues to thrust into you with increasing fervor. "You're amazing," he groans, his grip on your hips tightening. "So fucking beautiful, taking both of us like a champ."

Rhys stands beside the chaise, his gaze fixated on the erotic tableau before him. With a hunger in his eyes, he positions himself next to you, his throbbing cock eagerly seeking entrance. "Open up for me, darling," he urges, his voice thick with desire as he guides his member between your parted lips. Your mouth, still slick from Azriel's earlier attentions, welcomes him eagerly, enveloping him in warmth. Rhys moans softly, his fingers tangling in your hair as he begins to thrust gently, setting a rhythm that matches the movements of Cassian and Azriel behind you.

His praise mingles with your moans. As Rhys plunges deeper into your mouth, his praises become a melodic chant, whispered between gasps of pleasure. "You're so beautiful like this," he murmurs, his voice a seductive melody against the backdrop of your moans. "Taking us all so eagerly, so willingly." His words send shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you as you eagerly suck him deeper, your tongue swirling around his length in a dance of desire.

"Such a good girl," Rhys continues, his breath hitching with each thrust. "You were made for this, made to be worshipped by us, to be pleasured in every way imaginable." His words fuel you, driving you to take him deeper, to please him as he plunges into your mouth. As Azriel and Cassian pick up their pace, the intensity of their thrusts sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Each powerful thrust fills you up completely, hitting the deepest spots inside you, driving you closer to the edge of bliss.

Your body is flushed with arousal, a rosy hue spreading across your skin as your heart races with anticipation. With every thrust, your breasts bounce in rhythm. Beads of sweat form on your skin, glistening under the dim light of the room as the heat of passion consumes you. You mewl and grunt, lost in a haze of ecstasy as every coherent thought is driven from your mind. You're fucked so well, so thoroughly, that all you can do is surrender to the overwhelming pleasure that consumes you. As Rhys thrusts into your mouth, you eagerly meet his movements, sucking and licking with abandon. His cock fills your mouth, stretching you as you take him deeper, eager to please him as much as the others.

"You're such a good little whore for us, aren't you?" Cassian growls into your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he pounds into you with primal urgency. Azriel's voice is low and husky as he murmurs, "That's it, take all of us. You were made for this, made to be filled up by us." Rhys's words are a seductive whisper against your skin as he thrusts into your mouth, "You're our perfect little plaything, made to satisfy our every desire."

Their words send shivers of pleasure down your spine, fueling the fire of ecstasy that burns within you. You moan around Rhys's cock, your body writhing with pleasure as you surrender to the overwhelming sensation of being taken by them all at once. As they continue to sweet-talk you, their words of adoration and desire fueling the intensity of your pleasure, they also begin to engage in conversation amongst themselves.

Cassian's voice is filled with lust and admiration as he murmurs, "Gods, she's so tight around me. Feels like heaven." Azriel grunts in agreement, his movements becoming more urgent as he drives deeper into you. "She's insatiable. I can feel her clenching around me." Rhys's voice is a low growl as he adds, "She loves it, doesn't she? Loves being taken by all of us at once." The three of them share a knowing glance, a silent communication passing between them as they continue their assault on your body.

As you come around Azriel's cock, your body convulses with pleasure, and you release Rhys's cock with a wet pop, moaning loudly in ecstasy. "Fuck! Gods, yes. More," you whimper, your voice dripping with desire as tears gather at the brim of your eyes once again.

Sensing your need for a change of scenery, Cassian and Azriel pull out of you, their movements synchronized as they lift you up, their strong arms cradling you bridal-style. "Let's go somewhere more comfortable," Cassian suggests, carrying you with ease as you pant heavily, your body still trembling from the intensity of your orgasms.

Rhys leads the way into his bedroom, the air heavy with anticipation as Cassian gently sets you down on the bed. "On all fours now," he instructs, his voice commanding yet tender as he helps you assume the desired position. "Now tell me, pretty girl," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "Whose cock do you want?" You pause for a moment, your mind fogged with desire and need, before you answer with absolute certainty, "All of yours."

Their chuckles ripple through the room, a symphony of desire and amusement. "Yes, but where?" Cassian repeats, his voice laced with anticipation. You bite your lip, considering the question amidst the haze of arousal. "Everywhere," you finally breathe out. Cassian and Azriel exchange a knowing glance, their desire evident in the hunger of their gazes as they settle onto the bed in front of you. "I want all of you to cum inside of me," you declare, your voice dripping with need as you gaze at them with pleading eyes.

A primal hunger ignites within them at your words, their cocks throbbing with anticipation as they watch you with ravenous desire. Without a word, Cassian moves closer, his hands trailing down your spine as he leans in to press his lips against the nape of your neck. "You heard her, boys," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. "Let's give her what she wants."

Rhys's gaze darkens with desire as he watches the scene unfold before him. With a predatory gleam in his eyes, he moves closer, his fingers trailing over your slick folds before he positions himself at your entrance, his cock twitching with anticipation. "Please," you whimper, your voice pleading as you arch your back, presenting yourself to them completely. "I need you." As Rhys positions himself behind you, his cock pressing eagerly against your dripping folds, you let out a whimper of anticipation, your body trembling with desire. His hands grip your ass with a bruising force, pulling you closer to him as he aligns himself with your slick entrance.

With a low growl, Rhys thrusts into you, his cock filling you to the hilt as you moan in ecstasy. The sensation of being stretched and filled by him sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, your back arching and your hips instinctively grinding back against him. Meanwhile, Azriel and Cassian settle on the bed in front of you, their cocks standing proud and ready for your attention. With a hunger that matches your own, you eagerly take them into your mouth, sucking and licking with fervor as you alternate between the two. Azriel groans appreciatively as you take him deep into your mouth, your tongue swirling around him as you eagerly work to drive him to the brink of ecstasy. Cassian's grip tightens on the sheets as you lavish attention on him, your mouth and tongue working wonders. When your mouth cannot please one of them, you work them with your hands.

Back with Rhys, his thrusts become more urgent, his hips slamming into yours with a relentless rhythm that leaves you breathless. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, building the heat within you to an unbearable intensity. You're surrounded by the heady scent of sex and sweat, the sounds of your moans and the slick sounds of flesh against flesh filling the air as you're taken by all three of them at once. As Rhys's thrusts become even harsher and more powerful, you feel yourself being pushed to the brink of ecstasy. Each withdrawal is agonizingly slow, teasing you with the promise of his impending return, before he slams back into you with a force that sends shivers down your spine.

His moans fill the room, mingling with the sounds of your own pleasure as he drives you towards the edge. With each thrust, he curses under his breath, his voice thick with desire and need.

"Gods, your pretty little cunt is milking my cock so well," he growls, his brows pinched in pleasure as he snaps his hips into yours with even more force. "I'm gonna fill you up now, okay, darling?" he murmurs, his voice laced with a mixture of desire and possessiveness.

You can only manage a breathless whimper of agreement as Rhys's powerful thrusts leave you gasping for air. His cock pistons into you with a relentless intensity, each movement driving you closer to the brink of ecstasy.

With a guttural groan, Rhys pulls out almost completely before slamming back into you, his movements becoming even more forceful and erratic. Your body responds instinctively, arching into his thrusts as you surrender to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. With one final, powerful thrust, Rhys buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he spills his seed into your waiting depths. The sensation of being filled by him pushes you over the edge, and you cry out in ecstasy as waves of pleasure wash over you, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm.

As the intensity of your climax fades, you collapse against the bed, panting heavily as you bask in the afterglow of your shared pleasure. Rhys remains buried deep inside you, his breathing ragged as he presses gentle kisses to the nape of your neck, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

"Would you mind if I go first?" Cassian's voice is husky with desire as he glances at Azriel, who returns his gaze with a heated intensity. "Go ahead," Azriel grunts in response, his own desire palpable in the air.

With a silent understanding passing between them, Cassian switches places with Rhys, who withdraws from you only to be replaced by Cassian's throbbing length. Unlike Rhys's powerful thrusts, Cassian's movements are more deliberate, more controlled. He grinds into you, his cock buried deep within your slick folds, maintaining a constant pressure that sends waves of pleasure coursing through you. You can feel the tension in Cassian's body, the urgency in his breath as he nears his own climax. But despite his impending release, he keeps his movements steady, his focus solely on pleasuring you.

And oh, how you revel in it. You love being their plaything, their vessel for pleasure. Your gaze meets Azriel's, and in his hazel eyes, you see a reflection of your own desire, a mirror image of the passion burning within you. As Azriel strokes your hair with a tenderness that belies the raw desire between you, you feel a surge of emotion welling up inside you. With each grinding motion, Cassian's cock delves deeper into your quivering core, eliciting a symphony of moans and gasps from your lips. His breath becomes ragged, matching the rhythm of his thrusts, as he nears the edge of release. "Oh, fuck," Cassian groans, his voice thick with desire. "You feel so good, baby. So fucking tight." As his pace quickens, the tension in Cassian's body becomes almost unbearable. And then, with a guttural cry of ecstasy, Cassian finally succumbs to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through him. Hot strings of seed spill from his throbbing cock, filling you to the brim as he empties himself inside you. "Fuck, yes," Cassian pants, his voice raw with passion. "Take it all, darling. Take every last drop."

As your body succumbs to exhaustion, collapsing onto the mattress, you feel utterly spent, your legs trembling with the remnants of pleasure. Rhys and Cassian share a knowing smirk and a low, rumbling laugh, their eyes alight with satisfaction.

"How about you run her a bath and get some food while I take care of her," Azriel suggests, his voice a soothing balm amidst the haze of pleasure that envelops you. With gentle hands, he helps you turn onto your back again, his touch as soft as a whisper against your skin.

You sink into the mattress, utterly relaxed under Azriel's tender ministrations, your body humming with satisfaction. The warmth of his touch soothes the ache in your muscles, easing away the tension that had coiled within you.

"Thank you," you murmur softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Despite the exhaustion that weighs heavily on your limbs, a sense of contentment washes over you, wrapping you in its comforting embrace. Azriel smiles down at you, his gaze filled with warmth and affection. "Anything for you" he whispers, his words a promise of devotion that sends a flutter of butterflies dancing in your stomach. As Azriel leans over you, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, his voice rasps with desire. "I still need to fuck your pretty little cunt one more time, angel," he murmurs, his tone husky with anticipation. With heavy-lidded eyes, you nod, your gaze glazed with the remnants of pleasure.

He moves in front of you, his eyes tracing the halo of your hair spread out like a soft cloud on the mattress, your wings unfurled, a testament to your ethereal beauty. "So fucking beautiful," he whispers, his voice laced with reverence as he gently folds your legs up to your chest, hovering over you with a predatory grace.

"I won't be gentle," he warns, his voice dripping with promise as he plunges into your sensitive pussy. A scream tears from your throat as Azriel's cock, long and thick, fills you completely. There's a certain correlation between the expanse of his wingspan and the size of other parts of his anatomy, and you feel every inch of him stretching you to your limits.

His pace is relentless, unforgiving, each thrust hitting that perfect spot inside of you that sends sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins. He moves fast, brutal in his assault on your senses, leaving you no choice but to surrender to the overwhelming pleasure that consumes you. You moan loudly, wildly, unable to control the spasms wracking your body as Azriel's relentless rhythm drives you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. He grins down at you, a feral gleam in his eyes as he growls under his breath, "Look at you, completely drunk on my cock." His words send a shiver of excitement down your spine, mingling with the waves of pleasure crashing over you. "You don't know how long I've wanted to do this," he confesses.

As Azriel's gaze wanders to your wings, his own unfurling behind him with a mesmerizing display of power, he traces a finger over the delicate membrane of your right wing. The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through you, and you immediately clench around him, your walls squeezing around his cock in a deliciously tight grip.

Azriel's satisfaction is evident in the grin that tugs at his lips, a mixture of pride and arousal evident in the way he huffs with each powerful thrust into you. "One more time. Give me one more," he coaxes, his voice a seductive whisper that belies the feral look in his eyes.

As he continues to pound into you with an intensity that leaves you breathless, he keeps softly brushing his fingertips over your wings, exploring the soft tissue and tracing the contours of the delicate bones. Each touch sends shivers down your spine, and you squirm beneath him, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through your body.

Gasping for air, your toes curl as the overwhelming pleasure threatens to consume you entirely. In a tantalizing twist, a shadowy cool tendril finds its way to your clit, adding another layer of sensation to the already intense experience. As Azriel ruts harder, his movements becoming more unsteady and desperate, you feel the tension building within you, every snap of his hips sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. With each thrust, he drives deeper into you, hitting that perfect spot that makes you see stars.

And then, it happens. You come together, your bodies trembling in sync as wave after wave of ecstasy washes over you. Azriel's hips stutter, his movements growing erratic as he shoots his ropes of hot cum deep inside of you, filling you up with his essence.

When he pulls out, a mixture of their combined cum drips from your well-used pussy. Azriel's eyes darken with desire as he takes in the sight of your fucked-out cunt, leaking with their combined release.

"Fuck, so pretty with our cum all over your pussy, mhm?" he breathes heavily, his fingers gathering some of the spilled cum before pushing it back inside of your throbbing cunt. You moan at the overstimulating sensation, your body still trembling with aftershocks of pleasure.

"We wouldn't want to waste anything now, would we?" he murmurs, leaning over to brush a soft kiss to your forehead before capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. Your body continues to shake as you try to come down from the intoxicating high.

Rhys returns with a tablet full of food, setting it down beside the bed as Azriel picks you up, cradling you in his arms, and carries you to the bathroom where Cassian had prepared a warm bath. The steam rises, enveloping you in its comforting embrace as Azriel gently sets you down into the tub. "You'll bathe," he murmurs softly, his voice laced with tenderness, "then we'll eat, rest for some time, and then..." He pauses, his gaze intense as he meets yours. "Then we'll fuck you until the sun comes up."

His words send a shiver down your spine, a mix of anticipation and desire coursing through your veins. You nod eagerly, your body still humming with the lingering echoes of pleasure. The promise of more to come ignites a fire in the pit of your stomach as you soak in the warm water, letting it soothe your weary muscles.

As you lean back, closing your eyes and reveling in the sensation of warmth surrounding you, you can't help but smile at the thought of what lies ahead.

☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆

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angelfrombeneth · 4 months

Text

THE HOTEL - A . DONALDSON

Sexual Content Ahead

Art Donaldson x Fem!Chubby Gymnast Reader

Summary: The US Open wasn't just a tennis event, it was a dating pool and you were definitely successful this year.

Warnings: SMUT 18+, use of Y/N, P in V, Art is a munch, Art and Y/N yearning for one another

Note: If you have any suggestions for ANY sort of fic, do send me an ask. I do check them 💗

US OPEN 2006

Tashi had her final today. You were extremely excited. You had taken time off training to visit her. She didn't know you were coming and she was going to be so stoked.

You and Tashi have been friends for 13 years, both of you growing up together at such a young age. You watched her ease into the tennis scene to become the amazing player she is now. Likewise for you, she had watched you grow as a gymnast and the excitement you both had when you got scouted for the Olympic team in 2004, as you began training towards the next Olympics which was 2008.

Both of you bonded over your love for your own sport. Both of you dipping into eachothers sport and helping eachother train.

You walked into the area Tashi's mother said she'd be. You smiled, walking past the many rushing tennis managers and people. You didn't understand much about the logistics behind it.

Your low rise white shorts, clinging to your figure as you sported the matching cropped jumper and wore your bikini top below. It was a very hot day conveniently and you being a fashion obsessed girl, you had many outfits. Your belly button piercing shining with the sun that peak through the windows within the hallway as you stalked closer to the room she was in.

You knocked on the door, clutching your bag as you smiled.

'One minute!'

You heard, as you hear clamoring on the otherside of the door.

You watched as the door flung open to reveal your best friend as you smiled brightly at her.

"Y/N! YOU CAME!" She squealed jumping forward and hugging you tightly.

"Of course I would!" You hugged her back smiling as you both pulled away. "This is the fucking US Open, of course I'd come to see your final".

"I was worried you'd be too caught up and I didn't want to bother you" She smiled as she ushered you into the room.

You shut the door behind you, smiling as you sat upon a free chair, crossing your legs. "Tashi you never bother me. Your like a sister to me of course I'm going to support you. You are always there for me"

She smiled, sighing as she sat back in her chair. "God, its not that I'm nervous. I'll definitely win" You chuckled as that comment. "I'm just... I don't know, I don't want to let people down"

"Tashi. Shush. You are literally amazing, you have a fanbase already. You are going to do amazing" You smiled at her.

"Thanks Y/N. God, how have you been! How's training been?"

"Its been great, I'm really getting into the rhythm of everything especially because the Olympics are so close now only 2 years. I'm definitely nervous but I'll be prepared" She smiled at you, her eyes glistening as she watched you speak with such excitement about your sport.

"Any boys" She smirked, raising her brow.

"Don't be silly, I'd never date a gymnast, can't mix work and pleasure" You both laughed. "What about you? Any boys?"

She shook her head. "You know what my Dads like. No ones good enough for me"

"He's not wrong" You shrugged.

Tashi rolled her eyes, a light chuckle leaves her lips as she looked to the clock. "I like this" She smiled leaning forward and touching the velvet material of your shorts.

"Thank you! It's actually something they got made for the team" You turned around, revealing a tiny embroidered logo on the back of the jacket 'TEAM US'

"Ooo love it. I need one of these" She smiled.

You peered to the clock, smiling as you stood up, grabbing your bag. "I'm going to get to the stands. You'll do great out there" You smiled, your hand upon her shoulder as you leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

"Oh I know" She smirked at you.

"That's my girl!" You cheered, as you opened the door, waving at her before making your way out towards the court.

It was a very hot day today, extremely hot. The sun was beating down on you like you were in hell and being burt alive. Perfect weather for tanning you definitely thought multiple times.

You made your way to the stands, smiling at Tashi's family as you waved to them. Opting to sit closer to the centre of the court to watch the whole game play out. You took your place, settling your legs over one another and your bag in your lap as you pulled your hair up and clipped it with your clear claw clip.

You closed your eyes, sighing as you leaned back slightly, basking in the gentle beat of the sun as you pulled your sunglasses down. Tapping your foot against the air as your flip flop slipped up and down on your foot but perfectly balanced so it never fell off.

You relaxed, enjoying the beat of the sun but you felt a shadow cast over you. A pair of shadows.

You opened your eyes and pulled up your sunglasses as you looked at the two men stood above you.

"Are you Y/N Y/L?" The brunette one spoke.

"Yes" You smiled.

"I told you!-" He turned to his blonde friend as they both sat next to you.

"Its a pleasure to meet you. I'm not a huge gymnastics fan, but you are amazing at what you do and we'll obviously your Tashi's best friend" The brunette said.

"Tashi fans, I see" You smirked, sitting up as you looked to the two of them. "Do you want to sit?"

The blonde's face looked shocked while the brunette smirked, the two quickly sitting beside you.

"Wow. You really are an angel" The blonde one spoke.

"Thanks" You chuckled, a pink hue covered his face as he nibbled at his lip, looking down.

"So your both here to watch Tashi?"

The brunette nodded. "He's never seen her play and I was telling him he needs to. She's like the hottest woman alive" He blurts out, pointing to his friend, which made you chuckle.

Before the blonde could protest, the announcers voice filled the stadium. His eyes were focused on you as you turned to look at the court watching as Tashi's competitor entered.

"Whats it like?"

You turned your head to look at him. "Whats what like? Being friends with Tashi?"

"No, being an Olympian"

You were taken back. Most people who were into tennis would ask you what's it like being friends with Tashi. Not asking much about you. It didn't bother you because they shared a common interest - Tennis. But sometimes it did irk you.

"Oh- Its um.. its really amazing. Its such a blessing I'm very grateful" You smiled. He smiled at you, as both of you turned to watch the court as the crowd roared as Tashi walked out.

You focused on the game. Watching as Tashi darted across the court. She was truly amazing at what she does. You could hear mumbles from beside you from the two boys which made you chuckle. The way their eyes never left Tashi. Little did you know, the blonde took any chance to glance at you.

"COME ONNN!" Tashi screamed as she hit the winner. The scream didn't startle you as it had become a tradition whenever Tashi wins. You smiled brightly, clapping. You knew she'd win.

Her eyes darted to the stands as she found you, smiling to you as you picked up your hand and waved.

You smiled, sighing as you stood up. The two boys beside you staring up at you. The blonde's eyes never left your face, the way his gaze held on your features was mesmerising. Whereas the brunette, his gaze faltered as he glanced up and down, checking you out.

"Will I see you boys later at the Adidas party?" You smiled down as them.

"Um I d-"

"Yes! We will see you there!" The brunette cut off his friend as he nudged the boy.

"Great, I look forward to it" You gazed at the blonde, nibbling on the corner of your lip as you smiled at him. "See you later" You shimmied past the boys.

You skipped down the stairs, towards Tashi's family greeting them as you arrived.

ADIDAS AFTER PARTY

You and Tashi were dancing together. You two were big party girls, you planned to go to college together and live the party girl life - but with you getting scouted you wouldn't go to college but Tashi vowed she would. You would visit and you two would party hard together.

Tashi wore a beautiful strapless blue dress, as her hair hung low on her shoulders as she twirled around in the Royal blue.

You wore a little black dress, probably not entirely appropriate but you were always the slightly more scandalous one when it came to outfits.

"We've got some admirers" Tashi smirked, as she twirled you round as your eyes locked upon the two boys from earlier. You span back around, smiling at her as the two of you danced very raunchy upon one another. "I saw them sat with you at my match, the blonde one seems to be enamoured"

"He's so fucking cute Tashi, I can't get over it" You smirked, turning around and pushing your ass against Tashi's front as you slowly dropped to the floor and got back up so effortlessly. "The brunette one fucks with you. Alot"

"He's definitely my type. Seems very assertive" She smirked. You laughed as she took your hand and pulled you over to the seating at the side.

The pair of you sat and watched as the boys gravitated towards you both.

"You were amazing- I'm P-"

"I know who you are" Tashi smiled. You looked at her, confused because you didn't know who they were. "Fire and Ice right?" Then it all clicked. You had watched them a few times before with Tashi.

"Of course you know us" Patrick laughed.

"So which ones which" You smiled, pointing at the two of them as you leaned into Tashi. Which one was the fire, and which one was the ice. You do wonder.

They both chuckled at the two of you. You couldn't help but notice the way Art's gaze lingered on you even if he was talking to Tashi. She noticed it also.

The four of you engaged in light conversation before you were interupted.

"Tashi, sorry to bother you but we need you for pictures baby" Tashi's dad smiled.

"Sorry guys, hope you enjoy the party though!" Tashi smiled, taking your hand as she pulled you away with her.

The rest of the party went by quite quickly, you and Tashi enjoyed yourselves and you were glad to have been there with her.

You held your heels in your hands as you giggled, walking down the stairs to the house with Tashi in hand.

"I can't believe she had the audacity to even speak to you after doing that" You laughed.

"Hey!-"

You both turned to the voice, noticing Patrick and Art sat on some chairs in the corner. The two of you walked towards the boys.

"Hey? I thought you guys would've went home. You have a final tomorrow" Tashi spoke.

"Oh we both know how it's going to go"

"Its just the juniors"

The two boys spoke over eachother as you and Tashi raised and eyebrow at eachother.

"Do you both smoke?" Patrick asked the pair of you.

"No I can't, because of training" You shook your head

"No, why. Do you two?" Tashi asked as the two nodded.

"Come to the beach with us" Patrick pleaded.

"We really have to get back, but it was nice meeting you boys" Tashi smiled.

"Come to our room. Your in the same hotel as us I'm assuming. We are in room 206" Patrick peered to the both of you. A cigarette hanging from his mouth.

You chuckled, the way Art was so tentatively listening as his gaze pierced yours.

"We have beer-" Patricks only barging chip as he stared at the two of you.

"Goodnight boys" Tashi chuckled, the two of you walking away.

THE HOTEL

You weren't going to go. But the second you both got back you rushed to change into something comfy but also sexy. Tashi was confused by your action but you pleaded her to go. You had to see that blonde again.

"Y/N, he's going to Stanford with me. You can see him again then-"

"No Tash- He was giving me the 'fuck me eyes' I can't let this one slip through the cracks" You snapped. Pulling on the shortest shorts of your life as you slipped your chest into the tightest and most flattering bikini top you had.

Tashi laughed, changing into some shorts and a jacket as she looked at you. "You like him hm"

You nod as you looked at her, pulling your jacket on but stopping the zip so you can perfectly see your breasts.

She shook her head laughing as the pair of you both slipped on a pair of slippers and exited her room.

You both listened as you knocked once more. Hearing the boys scramble behind the door, mumbling to one another as you heard things being thrown around.

The pair of you stood up straight as the door flung open as they both stood infront of you. Your eyes instantly gravitate to Art, stood in his stanford tshirt and shorts.

"Do come in" Patrick ushered the two of you in. You noticed his absence of a shirt as he opted for a more freeing feel. You can't help but think how this is him all over.

The four of you sat on the floor, a lone can of beer in the middle as you and Tashi smiled at the boys.

"So.. how often does this happen" Tashi peered to the two boys.

"What?-" Art questioned

"Going for a pair of best friends. You get one each right" Tashi raised her brow.

"Not as often as you think" Patrick shrugged, opening the can and taking a swig of beer.

"You see, Patrick has a girlfriend"

"I do not" Patrick snapped at Art.

You smirked, amused by the two boys infront of you.

"So you have a girlfriend and what about you." Tashi looked at Art.

"Well Art, he's between ladies" Patrick smirked.

Art instantly hit Patrick, shaking gis head as he peered to you. "Now don't say that. It makes me seem like some sort of- what is it-"

"Player?" You raised your eyebrow.

"Yes that. Which I am not" He grit his teeth towards Patrick.

Tashi continued to talk to the boys. You opted to sit and listen. You couldn't help but let your eyes trail upon Art's figure. The way his muscles peeped from the shirt as you nibbled at your bottom lip. Fuck you were getting hot and bothered just looking at him.

"And he was just sat there.. just covered in it. He looked like a kid who spilt milk all over himself" Patrick laughed.

You were watching Art closely, the way his cheeks tinted pink as he got embarrassed. You were really paying attention to the story - you were too busy checking him out. But you know it was something about jerking off.

You felt movement beside you as Tashi stood up, looking around as she sat upon the bed. Smiling down at the three of you.

"Come" She looked at the group.

"Which one of us-" Art started before Patrick scrambled to her side.

You watched as Art didn't flinch. Didn't move. He sat on the floor still, looking at you. This made you smile. Finally someone who was interested in you.

You stood up, dusting yourself off as you sat upon the bed too, beside Tashi as you took Art's hand pulling him up with you.

You peered to the side, noticing Tashi and Patrick already making out with one another - rather aggressively.

Art sat beside you, his bottom lip caged in by his teeth as he stared at you. His eyes focused on yours, no wandering gaze at all.

You slid your hand around his neck as you leaned in, placing your lips onto his softly.

Quickly the two of you moulded together. His hand snaked it's way to your hip as he held you softly, pulling you closer. Your legs kicked up and hung over his as the the two of you deepened the kiss.

Your lips, moving against one another. His tongue darting into your mouth as it swirled around. You couldn't help but nip at his lip. The kiss was quick but very passionate. It gave you butterflies to say the least.

He pulled away, pushing your hair aside as he sucked on your neck. His lips suctioned to the skin as he kissed down it. Leaving slight red marks peppered across your neck as you softly sighed. A light moan leaving your lips.

Your eyes trailed to Tashi as she peered to you, smirking as she basically controlled Patrick's every movement.

Your gaze didn't linger long as Art nipped at your ear, causing you to let out a soft yelp as he tugged as it, before pulling away.

You stared at one another, lips plump, swallowen and covered in eachothers saliva as you panted softly.

Tashi clasped her hands together loudly standing up as she looked at you. "We should get going"

You looked at her, slightly dazed as Art's hand softly interlocked with yours. You stood up, standing beside Tashi

"But what about your number-" Patrick spoke.

"You'll have to guess" Tashi smiled. You looked at Art, a silent exchange before you and Tashi exited the room.

You hated Tashi for cutting that short. You wanted him. You wanted to run back and have more. Take him where he stood but Tashi said the wait would make him want you more.

During the night, you got up, slipping out of the room quietly as you walked down the hall. You found yourself yet again outside room 206.

You knocked on the door, instantly regretting it and going to turn around to run off, but the door opened.

"Y/N?" Art looked at you. His hair slightly disheaved like he had been sleeping. The room pitch black behind him.

"Oh- You were sleeping I'm sorry. I just- Had to see you" You toyed with your fingers.

A breathy chuckle, left his mouth as his hand touched yours as he smiled at you. "God you are truly breath taking" He sighed, his hands fit on your hips as he pulled you closer, his lips landing on yours once more.

It was rough and passionate, but still pleasurable. Your arms made its way around his neck as you pulled him closer. Your tongue toying with his as the kiss became sloppy and needier.

Art backed up into the room, as you kicked the door shut behind you. Darkness engulfing the two of you. You both chuckled as you navigated your way to the bed, feeling around for any sort of object as your eyes adjusted to the lack of light.

You fell back against the plush of the bed, breaking the kiss as you peered up at him. It was dark but you could still see just how perfect he was. You peered to the side to notice a sleeping Patrick beside you as you looked back to Art.

"Don't be too loud" He smirked, lifting you up and throwing you down higher up the bed. He crawled ontop of you, caging you in as you both smiled at one another.

"Do you get off on this? Your friend being right there?" You whispered, your arm around his neck as you pulled his closer to you.

"I'm not going to wake him up and kick him out. Took him ages to finally get to sleep he was jerking off for hours after you both left" He whispered back. You chuckled, as your hands tugged at his shirt, pulling it off as you pulled him in, kissing him once again.

Art pulled away, stripping himself of his clothes as he kneeled before you in just his boxers. You quickly stripped yourself of your shorts and jacket, throwing them across the room as you tugged on the knot of your bikini top letting it drop off.

"Fuck-" Art bit his lip, pulling the bikini off you as he left it sprawled on the bed beside the two of you. His lips travelling down your body, sucking and nipping at the skin. Leaving countless of marks but due to the darkness you wouldnt know till morning.

Art gripped your plush thighs tightly, groaning as he lowered his face between your legs. His mouth, sucking the fat of your thighs as he definitely left dark hickeys between them. His groans as he nipped at the flesh. Your hands found its way into his hair as you tugged at it, biting your lip to suppress your moan.

"You make me so fucking hard.." He groaned, kissing your lower stomach as he bit your panties, pulling them down with his teeth. "Fuck me.. you are sculpted by a goddess..." His hands found its way to your plush stomach, kneading the flesh as he licked his lips.

Art's lips trailed up your thigh, kissing and nipping at the skin as he tugged your panties off and dropped them to the floor.

You stared down at him, biting your lip as you saw his silhouettes move within the dark. He stared up at you, as his head perfectly positioned infront of your core, smiling as his lip sucked under his teeth as a slightly blush crept onto your cheeks.

"Mhmm.. You ready?" He smiled at you, that gorgeous golden retriever type smile. Art had you in his fucking clutches and you were melting, melting badly for this boy.

You nodded, rendered speechless by his movements. A light chuckle left his lips before he dove in - his tongue lapping over your folds as you threw your head back and reached to grip at his hair - gasping.

"H-holy fuck-" You croaked out a whisper as your back arched against the bed, your hair tugging at his locks but pushing him futher into you.

His tongue worked magic on you, swirling over your folds, diving into places that haven't yet been touched. You have never felt this way before, not even your hand could do this.

You were constantly taking long gasps of air as you whined quietly. Art's large pale hands, reached round both your thighs, squeezing the plush flesh harshly as he continued to devour on you.

You couldn't think, the way he was pampering, being attentive you were cared for and feeling good. Your breath began to quicken as you bit your lip, sighing. "Art- I'm close-" You croaked as your leg began to shake as you drew closer to your climax.

Art pulled away for a brief moment which had you overwhelmed - especially how close you were. But before you could protest he was leaning over you, his lips crashed onto yours as his fingers dove into you, fingering you through your high.

You pulled away, mouth hung open as whines fell from your lips, your hand tightly gripping his bicep as your toes curled as his fingers pistoned in and out of you. Your eyes rolling back as your whole body twitched as you came against his finger. "Ffffffuck!-" You choked.

Art wore a smirk, he was proud of himself, making you cum and making you so weak. He withdrew his fingers from you, instantly connecting with his mouth as he lapped his tongue around them, peering down at you as you watched him.

"Sweet. Just how I like it" He smiled, as he kneeled back on his legs as he looked at you.

After composing yourself you sat up, looking up at him as your hands rested upon his thighs.

"S'good" You smiled, your hand sliding up over his bulge as you kneaded your hand into it as your eyes never left his. Your eyes trained on his, glistening with that needy look.

Art flinched for a second, his eyes rolling for a brief moment as he took in a sharp gasp.

You both froze at the rustling of the crisp sheets beside you, both looking to Patrick, who had turned over, face now facing the two of you but still peacefully at rest.

"Don't worry about him" Art chuckled, dipping down and capturing your lips.

"Mhm- I'm not worried but what if he wakes up.." You pulled away briefly, his hand on the back of his neck as you peppered pecks onto his lips.

"Then he can watch me fuck you" He smirked, gripping at your thighs as he pressed a long kiss against your lips. He quickly kicked off his boxers, smirking as his hand worked on his length, pumping it a few times as you layed down getting comfortable against the bed.

"I know your fucking flexible Y/N, so let's play around with that" He chuckled, taking your legs and spreading them. You smirked at him, allowing him to pratically fold you out into the splits. His eyes glistening as he could put you into whatever position he desired.

"Fuck me.. you're making me harder" He laughed, his finger running up your folds, an instinctive jerk of your body as he lips cocked up into a smirk as he pushed himself into you, the pair of you sighing in unison.

Art's hand gripped both of your calfs either side of you, holding them down as he caged himself above you, as he began to slowly thrust gaining a rhythm into you.

Your hands flew to his bare chest, sighing as you bit your lip, your finger dipping between the crevasses of his chest as he rutted into you. You body bucking against the thrusts as you suppressed your vocals as you hummed.

Art leaned down, his lips capturing yours once again as he kissed you. Needing, you kissed him back, his grip on your calfs loosening as he moved his hands to either side your head on the pillow. Your legs instantly caging around his body, your arm around his neck and a hand on his face as the pair of you kissed. Your legs pulling him closer... further into you, as his hips needily snapped into yours. The sensation, the feelings of his body needily snapping against yours for any sense of friction from you - drove you insane.

Tangled up in one another, the pair of you continued to whine and moan as Art continued to thrust at a comfortable pace into you. It was good, it was nice. But you wanted more. Craved more.

Gripping his shoulder, you whined as you slowly maneuvered yourself to straddle yourself ontop of the man. Sliding him under you as you caged your plump thighs either side of his hips as you were still sunked down on his length.

"What are you doing?" Art sighed, his hands instantly gripping your waist as his head dove into your neck, nipping at the skin.

"Mhm- wanted to... ride you" You sighed, your hips rolling against his as your breath hitched. Your hands gripped to his shoulder as your back arched, your chest leant to Art's face.

His gaze on you never left, as his mouth slacked open as he fitted it over your breast. Sucking so feverishly on the skin as you let out a soft whine. His tongue lapping over your nipple as your breast occasionally popped from his lips.

As you grinded down against him, gripping his shoulders tightly still as a string of soft moans left your mouth - Art's mouth would toy between sucking and licking at your breast, constantly trained on the supple skin as hos ehes were always fixated on you.

"God you are so fucking beautiful" He sighed, pushing his face into your breasts, your hands wrapping around his neck as bounced up and down on his cock. Maneuvering yourself to slip up and down his length, your whole body bouncing with each movement.

You eyes, occasionally snapping to Patrick's sleeping figure beside you - going through scenarios in your head of what would happen if he woke up and saw his friend balls deep in you.

You heard a snap, your head snapped back to Art's as he smiled, taking his hands as he cupped your face inbetween them.

"Don't look at him. Why you looking at him? Look at me" He spoke, his hips harshly snapping up into you with each short phrase. You gasped, gripping his shoulder as your body recoiled against the thrusts.

Art noticed the quick obedience, smirking at this, his once folded legs were now unfolded, spread apart below you as he comfortably sat, gripping your hips as he began to snap his hips up into yours. Your body bouncing down against each thrust, his eyes trained on the way your breasts would bounce harshly with each snap of the hip.

You gasped, a loud moan leaving your throat as your hands pressed down harshly against Art's chest. His thrusts deep and curving up into you were sending you spiraling. You were close, you felt yourself getting hotter and htoter as the body below you, watched you attentively- small grunts and whines leaving his lips as he carefully listened to the sound of your skin slapping back down against his with each thrust.

"Art- I'm close-" You grit your teeth, your hands pressed onto his chest as you gasped.

"Good.. because so am i-" His hands gripping your waist before pushing himself up with his core, your body flying back to lay against the bed as he positioned himself above you. With no warning, thrusting aggressively into you, your legs flailing about as you let out a load moan, his hand flying over your mouth, as he held your hip up with the other. Your back arched against the mattress as Art, leaned above you, letting out soft whines, his face scrunching as he continued to piston into you.

"Fuck- fuck- Yes there!-" You moaned from behind his hand.

Art let go of your mouth, gripping your waist as his pace sped up completely, his head thrown back as he tried to control his whiney moans to be as quiet as possible as his thrusts began to grow sloppier.

"Oh yes- fuck me- right there!-" You yelped, clawing your hands forward to his chest as his hips snapped into yours once more as you both let out a rather loud moan in unison. Your body, twitching against his, as his cock twitched inside of you. You both pratically holding your breath as you both climaxed.

Sighing as his grip on you loosens, as you relax into the mattress below. Art's hands planted either side of you, as he slowly drew himself out to push himself back in slowly, looking down watching as both your juices collected at the bottom of his shaft as he grunted, dragging out the pair of your's high.

No words were exchange in that moment, just the sound of pants and slightly wetted skin, before Art pulled out, leaning back on his thighs as he peered down at you.

The pair of you, smiling, before you sat up, wrapping your arms around his and pecked his lips softly. You just stayed there briefly- in one another's arms. You don't know how long for, you were just comftable.

Eventually, you got up. Grabbing Art's phone as you put your number in. His hand gripping your wrist as his needy gaze locked onto yours.

"When will I see you again-" He whispered.

"When you want to" You smiled, handing him back his phone with your contact open on the screen. His phone, lighting up his face as a small smile appeared on his lips.

His grip loosened as you grabbed his shirt, throwing it over your naked body as you gathered your clothes before exiting the room.

You didn't know if you'd see Art again, despite giving him your number - it was about to be a long while till you heard from him again.

When the time was right, your paths would align again. Hopefully.

~~~

Thank you for reading this piece, I hope you enjoyed it. Please do heart this post if you enjoyed it and comment/send an ask if you have any suggestions for anything else.

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

Text

twenty four hours (modern eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TWENTY ONE

in which you try everything you can to make eddie feel better after his encounter with chrissy - to make him forget, to make him feel cherished, to make him feel worthy.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, a single use of Y/N, smut (p in v), oral (m receiving), voyeurism, edging, good old fashioned ball worship if you squint, maybe some sub!eddie if you squint even harder, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 7.3k+

→ a/n: shout out to @hellfire--cult for the balcony idea. i knew i'd get them there at some point, little freaks. and everyone say thank you to @icallhimjoey for the early post 😏

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

21:00 ─────────────ㅇ── 24:00

HOUR TWENTY ONE - 12:00 PM

STEVE-O: why do you guys suck so much at providing photographic proof of being alive? seriously

You’ve been staring at Steve’s text ever since the two of you arrived back at the apartment. You’d reply soon enough, but for now, the message was a distraction.

Eddie wasn’t speaking to you.

Not in a brooding sense, but in a way that let you know he was too far gone in his own head right now for you to reach him. When you’d said those words to him, when you’d admitted that you found him worth it, you saw his eyes glaze over slowly. You’d watched in real time as he slipped away from you. It might be that he doesn’t believe you, it might be guilt that continues to gnaw at him for a past that can’t be changed — whatever it is, you hate it.

The easy solution would be to send Steve the photos from the cafe, but you’d already tried that. Your thumb had hovered over that photo of Eddie with a mouthful of croissant, still bright and brilliant before all his waves of self-hatred had gotten ahold of him, and you just couldn’t. It was selfish, it was ridiculous, but you couldn’t share that piece of him with others. Some small, childish, hopeless bit of you needed to cling to the man in that photo and keep him safely inside your chest. It wasn’t a new version to your friends, they’ve always tried to defend Eddie and convince you he wasn’t all bad, but it was new to you. It was all so unexpected and unforeseen, the look behind his golden eyes as he seemingly looked right past the camera and right into you.

No, you couldn’t send that photo. It was for your eyes only. A souvenir you had greedily stolen.

Eddie had excused himself to the bathroom when you two arrived at the apartment, and this time, there was no dirty intentions behind it. You left well enough alone — he needed a moment to be by himself and that was fine. You could entertain yourself until he was ready to come back to you, back down to Earth. Right now, you were currently picking apart an almond croissant as if it were the most interesting thing you’d ever laid eyes on.

Croissant dissection — see? You absolutely could distract yourself in order to give him space. Absolutely no sarcasm there.

You finally sigh when you see a message bubble pop up with three little dots, signifying Steve is typing again. You don’t give him the time to properly finish out his message before you click on your camera icon, snap a shot of the picked apart croissant in front of you, and send a message with the image attached.

YOU: we were eating breakfast, eddie’s been in the bathroom. happy, mom?

STEVE-O: he’s been in the bathroom for an entire hour?

YOU: oh, you know how you men get with toilet time.

Despite the playful tone of your texts, your face is completely flat, chest still heavy as you think about Eddie behind the wooden door. Should you be giving Eddie this amount of space? What if it’s doing more damage than good?

You’re about to stand from the stool you’ve occupied for nearly ten minutes now and go try your hand at knocking, try and remind Eddie that you’re still here, when Steve’s next text comes through.

STEVE-O: stop bullshitting me. what happened?

You swear you taste metallic blood from how hard you bite down on your bottom lip, staring at the mocking message. You can’t even begin to explain to Steve what has transpired, not just this last hour, but the entirety of the time. The parking garage, the joking marriage, Chrissy showing up, Eddie’s painful vulnerability – you can’t find the words to tell him about any of it. The same as you can’t find it in you to send the photo of Eddie in Betty’s.

YOU: nothing happened. do you need any more proof than that?

He only reacts to your message with a thumbs up. You assume that means you’re in the clear, for now.

When you exit your thread of messages with Steve, a new thread that has been started catches your eye. It’s a new number, no contact on it. The only message sent is from you – the photo of you with your coffee, head thrown back and eyes shut with a wide smile boosting your cheeks.

Eddie’s phone number.

You look at the photo of yourself for a while, trying to not cringe at your appearance. To you, you just looked ridiculous. You don’t understand why Eddie wanted this photo preserved so badly. Your smile is too wide, your eyes are mere slits from the way your cheeks were squishing up with joy, most of your makeup you’d started the night with has long since faded due to a multitude of activities. You don’t feel like anything special in this photo.

But Eddie had wanted it. He had deemed this moment in time of you as picture-worthy, had gone so far as to send it to himself so that he’d have this memory even if you deleted it from your phone.

Before you think too hard on it, you tap on that line of numbers and add a proper contact profile to it.

EDDIE. You keep the contact name simple, eager to get it out of the way as you move onto the next step. A contact photo. You don’t even have to ponder on it – in a flash, you’ve selected the picture of him with the croissant.

You’re back on the thread of messages – or, at least, the singular message – and don’t stop yourself as your thumbs begin to fly over your keyboard.

YOU: why were the almond croissants almost sold out?

To be fair, you didn’t even know if Eddie had his phone on him. That green message stares back at you for a few moments before you get your answer.

EDDIE: Excuse me?

He has his phone. You lift your head, looking at the closed door of the bathroom before glancing back down at your phone.

YOU: because everyone went NUTS over them.

You perk your ears and listen for any sign of life from down the hall. Anything. A scoff, a pitiful laugh, him calling you stupid aloud. You’ll take whatever he offers.

It takes a moment, and you truly have to strain to hear it, but you can hear the laugh that would better pass as a sigh.

EDDIE: Is that supposed to be a joke?

YOU: ‘supposed to be’. excuse me, it was definitely a joke. and a very good one, at that.

EDDIE: Debatable.

You find yourself smiling down at the phone. Your neck aches from the way you keep glancing up suddenly at the door, silently pleading for him to come back out. To come out and fight with you, come out and bicker with you, come out and ignore you. Anything, for him to leave the bathroom and do anything but keep that door shut between you two.

He doesn’t, so you send another bad joke.

YOU: what did the customer say when they looked at the croissant?

This time, he plays along.

EDDIE: I don't know, what?

YOU: what a BREADtaking sight.

This time, you hear a more proper scoff come from within the bathroom.

YOU: i heard that. don’t even try to tell me it wasn’t funny.

EDDIE: I’m not laughing because they’re funny. I’m laughing because they’re BAD.

YOU: bet you wouldn’t say that to my face.

Immediately, you discard the phone, facedown on the counter as you look up to the door with unbridled hope. He could always ignore the comment, choose to not respond and continue to sulk away from you. It’s entirely possible – but you pray to every star in the sky that that isn’t what he’s going to do.

Please come back out. Please, even if just to sit in silence with me.

Your prayers are answered.

Slowly, painfully slowly, you hear shuffling on the other side of the door and await for the click of the door unlocking. It never comes, though – the door was never locked in the first place. He opens it, and you realize that the entire time, you could have stormed into the small room with him and demanded that he not hide away.

But you didn’t. You gave him space, gave him patience, and it’s clear he knows this as he comes out.

His eyes are red. As if he’s been crying.

“Hi,” you meekly say, taking in his face past those red-rimmed eyes. The tip of his nose is a fading shade of pink, as if he’s been rubbing it incessantly, and he sniffs for good measure as he turns the bathroom light off and walks to where you are.

“Hi,” his voice is rough around the edges as he greets you back. He won’t look you in the eye once he’s within reach – his gaze remains downcast, and you catch him fiddling with a few of his rings.

You hadn’t considered what you would do if you got this far. In every carefully considered scenario, you’d assumed he’d shut you out. You never expected him to come straight to you, as if seeking out comfort from you, without you having to beg it of him.

His eyes catch the croissants on the counter, torn apart and lazily picked at. He’s about to open his mouth and say something about it, probably questioning what you had done to the poor pastry, but you don’t give him a chance. You’re quick to snatch up one of the pieces you’d been picking apart to snack on for yourself and hold it out to him. An olive branch, an offering – a reason for him to sit and stay for a while with you.

He takes it tentatively, finally looking you in your eye again as he takes a small bite. It’s nothing compared to the bite he had taken when you’d snapped the photo of him, mere crumbs compared to that mouthful.

“Did you just… massacre our croissants?” he questions, squinting his eyes down at the crime scene.

You shift your body jokingly, failing at blocking him from seeing the mess you made, “Absolutely not. I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

He almost cracks a grin, “Right. Of course. I must be imagining things.”

“Wanna hear another pun?” you blurt out, suddenly nervous as he continues to stand before you. You hate the incessant need inside of your chest that calls for you to comfort him, to make this all better for him.

“I feel like you’ll tell me one even if I say no,” he raises an eyebrow at you, “So, sure.”

“Why did the croissant go to the doctor?”

He hums, trying to peer over your shoulder again at the croissants you were badly hiding, “Let me guess. Is it because you tore it apart mercilessly?”

“No,” you scoff, reaching behind you to grab another piece to offer to him as well as one of your own, “It was because he was feeling crummy, dumb ass.”

A crack of a smile. It’s miniscule but there. It makes that terrible pun worth it, just to see him not looking quite as defeated is worth all the stars in the sky at this point for you.

You’d certainly been the reason for his unhappiness in the past, and you surely would be again at some point. It all feels so inevitable; just as he believes that he can only bring you misery, you can’t imagine yourself bringing him joy. A belief that strikes something in your chest, something albeit more painful than you’d care to admit, but it’s true. You’ve crossed a line, you’ve changed everything, but the past still remains.

You aren’t perfect. Neither is Eddie.

Heartbreak is imminent, but for this brief moment, you can make him smile. You don’t need to worry about the next time you’ll piss him off or upset him, you just need to focus on making that twitch on his lips more permanent.

“I meant what I said earlier, by the way,” you decide to rip off the bandaid as he moves as if to sit beside you. Quickly, your words make him freeze. A bad sign, but you push through, because he needs to hear these things, “You deserve good things, Eddie. Good people, good things- you just… you deserve those things in your life.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

He’s turning away from you. Turning and heading to the living room, walking away from you.

You don’t let him. In an instant, you get onto your feet and follow him, continuing despite him acting as if he’s finished with the conversation. You’re not.

“You’re a good person, Eddie,” you insist, reaching out for him before he makes it to the couch, “Don’t walk away from me.”

He spins easily in your grip. “Just because you say something, doesn’t make it true, sweetheart.”

He’s back to saying it like a curse. Like it’s a harmful title. As if it’s not a privilege to you and all your metaphors to hear that nickname fall from his lips.

Right before your eyes, his defenses are on the rise. Brick by brick, he’s slowly reforming those walls to separate the two of you. Instead of defeat, instead of acceptance, it just makes you angry.

“Stop doing that,” you say quietly, carefully, firmly.

“Stop doing what?”

“That. Pushing me away. Locking me out,” you tighten your hand on his bicep and watch the way his nostrils flare, “I fucking hate it.”

“Despite what you believe,” he takes a step closer to you, “Not everything I do is meant to piss you off.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, and we both know it,” you can feel his muscles tense beneath your touch.

This time, his smile that emerges is cold. But you can still see the rubbage left by his tears — pink water lines and a new puffiness around his eyes. His words and his sudden cool demeanor can’t hurt you when you see it for what it is.

“Clearly we both don’t know it,” he chastised you, “We are very rarely on the same page. This isn’t a damn exception. You don’t have to prove your point, it doesn’t matter.”

He’s a wounded animal, striking out. He’s letting Chrissy’s words get to him.

“You’re worth i-“

“Don’t,” One of his hands shoot out to grip your waist, “Don’t fucking say that. Please. Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

He didn’t believe you.

“I meant it,” you whisper, anger shaking out of your grasp inch by inch as you realize that your words can’t break through to him, “I mean it. You’re worth it, to me, to St-“

“This isn’t about Steve,” he cuts you off, “It’s not about Steve, or Nancy, or Robin, or fucking Argyle. No need to play dumb anymore.”

It’s about you.

You both know it. For once, contradictory to what he’d just claimed, you’re both on the same page. And like he said, no need to play dumb.

“You’re worth it to me,” you say it with more confidence this time, “You’re a good person to me.”

“How can you say that?” he laughs out, void of amusement, “How can you say shit like that after everything we’ve been through?”

How can you not?

You only squeeze his bicep tighter, and he returns the action by gripping your hip harsher. “Because I mean it. I believe it. Whether you do or not.”

For a moment, the cracks in his armor expose themselves.

“You shouldn’t,” his voice should waver, “You shouldn’t believe those things, Y/N. You should hate me.”

“But I don’t,” And I never did.

“But you don’t,” he echoes.

You’ve done the opposite of what you had wanted. His smile is gone, that sadness creeping back up. You hate that. You don’t hate him — you hate that world of mourning behind his eyes, that defeat that brings his shoulders down and makes his grip on you falter. So you do the only thing you can think of to distract him. Make him forget.

“Make me hate you.”

His eyes widen briefly, “Excuse me?”

“Make me hate you,” you practically beg of him, “Show me why you’re such a bad person and I’ll let this go. I’ll drop the conversation, we can- Fuck, we can forget this entire morning happened. Make me hate you, Eddie, and I’ll stop reminding you that I don’t.”

His fingers curl back into you, slowly and gently, as his brows furrow. He’s considering what you’ve just said — more than that, you can see him trying to untangle all the hidden meanings behind it.

“And how do you suggest I do that?” his voice is low and calculated.

You shrug, stepping forward, letting your lips get even closer to his, “Not my problem. Just make me.”

The fingers are no longer gentle as he pulls you into him, finally catching onto the emphasis you place on those two little words.

Make me.

When his lips meet yours, they’re rough and brutal, taking greedily what they want from you. The only thing on your mind is making him forget. Make him forget, carry the load for him — they’re both more important than making him smile for now. Both these driving needs burn brighter in your chest because it’s clear that’s what he needs.

You’re willing to give him whatever he needs right now.

“You want me to make you hate me, baby?” he mumbled against your lip, practically drinking in the way you gasp as he starts to pull back, “Is that really what you want?”

It’s what you want. “Yes.”

And maybe you do too, when he leans back in to bite your lip. There will be another time for you to convince him with words that you find him to be worth it. Both hands from wrap around you and rough start to guide you back towards that fucking couch.

“Not the couch,” you suddenly protest, digging your heels into the carpet at the center of his living room, “Anywhere but the couch.”

And oh, the way he’s looking at you in that moment might be your new favorite thing. Your new favorite color is his eyes as they sparkle with a bit of life that had been missing since the coffee shops encounter. Your new favorite sound is the silence that encases the little breath he lets out. Your new favorite movie is watching him move in slow motion as his eyes dart behind you, towards the door to his balcony, before his lips finally curl up with a hint of the genuine warmth that had been hidden behind his walls.

“Anywhere?” he teases, beginning to walk you backwards.

You nod, grinning right back at him.

“I think I have an idea.”

If you had known twenty one hours ago that Eddie Munson, your sworn enemy, would have you out on his public balcony and on your knees for him in only a matter of time, past you would have….

Well, you don’t really care what past you would have done or thought anymore. You’re making him forget, yes, all while making yourself forget. You don’t care what you, twenty one hours ago, would or wouldn’t do as you let the past slip through your fingers so eagerly. All you can focus on is the dig of concrete against your knees, the way Eddie’s hands grip the railing as he leans against it, and the way the early afternoon sun forms a halo around him as you look up through fluttering lashes.

You just want to make him feel good. Every action is intentional, doing everything in your power to erase whatever storming thoughts had been haunting him so cruelly since Chrissy had so carelessly said what she had. You want to make him feel worthy. You want to make him feel loved.

Loved. You certainly didn’t love him — you couldn’t possibly, could you? He wouldn’t let you. You wouldn’t let yourself. But for now, you could play pretend; you could worship his body, drag his shirt out of the way and place playful kisses across his hips, and you could pretend that only this moment exists.

“You wanna know what makes me such a bad person?” he sighs out as you let your teeth graze his skin, shoulders rolling to shake off that shiver you elicit from him, “This. The fact that this is all I can fucking think about.”

“Hm,” you can only hum in response, nails taking over the denim of the jeans he currently wore. You walk your fingers up his thighs, moving closer and closer to his zipper. Your mouth is nearly watering at the prospect of worshiping him.

And the fact that any neighbor could walk out at any given moment and catch the two of you. You should probably insist on it being fast, on him being quiet, but the thought sends a thrill through the pit of your stomach. Your thighs clench and your cunt aches at the thought of being caught.

You want to do more than make him bite back mere moans of your name. You want to make him scream.

Suddenly, a hand tangles into the roots of your hair, pulling back and making you focus on him again.

“Eyes on me,” he instructs. Once you focus on him and only him, he continues, loosening his grip and letting those fingertips rub at your scalp soothingly, “You know why you should hate me? For all the nights I pictured this.”

“Yeah?” you smile innocently, playing along. He can talk all he wants, you know once you get your mouth on him, he’ll be lucky to remember his own name. “How many nights, hm? Tell me all about them, pretty boy.”

You catch the wobble in his knees, the way his breathing picks up, the brilliant shade of ivory his knuckles stretch to. You lean back on your haunches, and the hand in your hair slips as he glowers down at you.

“What are you-”

“Take off your shirt,” you calmly command.

“Excuse me?”

“Your shirt. I want it off.”

His hand that was once tangled against your scalp now comes down to your face, movement slow but not hesitant as he pinches your chin. His thumb tugs on your bottom lip, and you let out, even making a show of letting your tongue peek out to tap at it. “And who said you were calling the shots?”

“I did,” you put it simply, completely removing your hands from him now, “Take off the shirt, or I’ll leave you out here with blue balls.”

You close your lips around the end of his thumb and his knuckles dig in deeper to the skin below your chin as you suck subtly. He chuckles, but you can hear just how breathless he goes at the small action, even as he keeps up the act with a hard press of his thumb on your lower lip. Your mouth hangs open for him, waiting patiently for his next move.

A game of chess, an exchange of power, a fight for dominance. All the lines of who is and isn’t in control are blurred.

“Have you always been so mean, baby?” he taunts, trailing what spit you’d left behind on his thumb along your lip.

His movement stops when your lips spread into a provocative smile, “I learned from the best, didn’t I?”

The retort had potential to backfire. You wait for smoke and glory, for him to pull away from you further. He’d slam down a brick right in front of your face, lay the mortar to leave you high and dry. He’d push you away, and you’d have to retreat, tail tucked between your legs in the shame of trying when it came to him.

No smoke, no glory. He secedes, but makes no move to add to his walls, only removing his hand from your face and taking off the shirt. Just as you had told him to.

“Better?” he asks as he makes a show of tossing the shirt to the other side of the balcony. It could have even flown over the railing, for all you paid attention to the scrap of clothing. Maybe some innocent bystander is on the streets below, confused to all Hell as to why it’s raining obscure band t-shirts.

You’re just a bit too distracted to consider that right now.

With Eddie’s torso revealed, all words seem to evade you. You catch the sweat beginning to gather across his sternum, watching the way he’s flushing beneath your gaze, reveling in the pink chest exposed to you as the blush crawls wider. Instantly, your original purpose is forgotten, the primal urge to pepper kisses and bites alike across his skin almost lifting you up off your sore knees. You want to leave bruises – you want to make him scream, you want to mark him up, you want to make him feel worthy.

You stay on your knees, but compromise with all your wants as you lift up and stretch a bit. Your lips start their trail a bit lower than you (or Eddie) would have liked, taking their time to get familiar with the spanse of his rib cage first. You don’t nip with teeth, not yet. Just chaste kisses, lining each bone you can hardly feel residing beneath the skin, feeling his lungs expanding against your affection. Your tongue swipes alongside one of his side tattoos, a large and detailed dragon you hadn’t paid much mind to before. Every time you’d seen him shirtless, you’d been a bit distracted.

Not now. Now, you’re focused, determined to learn every curve and dip there is to explore on Eddie. You want to know him better than the back of your hands, memorize him more intricately than your own palms. After all, in order to worship a deity, you must know them.

You return back to the center line of his abdomen, kisses chasing after one another, even taking the time to suck his skin between your teeth but never bite down. You pause once your lips rest right beneath his navel, the tip of your nose brushing that rough patch of hair that leads down to your end destination. Your hands reach for his belt, toying with the buckle.

Through heavy lashes, you look up at him, staring down at you in awe, “You know, you’re not doing a very good job at making me hate you, pretty boy. Think I might just have to worship you instead.”

A deity of your own making. A deity for your own taking.

With skill, your hands undo the buckle effortlessly. You unbutton and unzip his jeans as if you’ve done this part a million times, as if you’d spent every single Sunday of the last year right here and doing exactly this. On your knees, worshiping him. This balcony, for all its exposure, certainly knows how to serve as a holy place.

He opens his mouth to respond, but you’re impatient. You still haven’t left him speechless, meaning you still hadn’t made your point, clearly.

His jeans hang loosely as they creep down his thighs, abandoned for a moment as you occupy your mouth against his hips. The hips you once thought would look so pretty properly decorated. You decide you were wrong – they don’t need ink burying into the skin, they need your teeth digging in.

You cover that skin with mirroring images of bursts of purple and pink, flowering bruises that you take your time to mark onto him. With each suck and bite, Eddie rolls his hips into you, head leaned back and throat straining with each moan he swallows down.

With the last hickey finished, you finally lean back, proud of your masterpiece as Eddie whimpers above you. Blooms in the shape of your lips mingle with faint and quickly fading teeth marks.

“Fuck,” he gasps out when your fingertip stops trailing over your markings and comes down to apply the softest pressure over the straining bulge in his boxers.

“What was it that you said earlier?” your finger traces over where you know a vein is – you know it because you’ve felt it, been driven insane by it – before circling around the wet patch now forming. He’s desperate, hips bucking again and a moan finally escaping. You think he’s bitten his lips hard enough in an attempt at self-restraint that they might be bleeding, “You said I’m not calling the shots, right?”

“You’re not,” he pathetically grits out, hands forming tighter fists on metal railing, as if the moment he lets go of it they’ll find their way home to you.

You lean forward, breath washing over his crotch before you place a feathery kiss to his clothed tip, “I’m not?”

You are. You both know you are. A constant battle of control, an ever-growing fight for dominance.

He lets out something crossed between a sigh of relief and a whine of protest when you remove your lips and hand from him completely, only to let out a sharp yelp when your finger curls into the waistband of his boxers and pulls back the elastic, letting it snap back into place sharply.

“Say I am,” you barter, “Say I’m in control right now, and I’ll put my money where my mouth is.”

You don’t expect him to break so easily. You’ve underestimated just how tightly you’ve caught him beneath your thumb.

“You’re in control,” he gasps out, head hanging low to meet your gaze fully, “You’re in complete and utter fucking control of me. You’re calling all the shots, baby. You always are.”

He didn’t have to sweeten it up with baby, but it spurs you on.

You shove his boxers down, watching his cock spring out for the taking. And you do as you promised; you put your money where your mouth is.

You start softly, taking your time as you gingerly suck on his pretty pink tip as you had his thumb. Hardly hollowing your cheeks, letting your tongue circle his slit to gather up the precum. You let the taste of him completely cover your tongue, even hum in satisfaction when he lets out a loud groan. It motivates you, feeds your fervor as you let his tip fall from your mouth and trail the tip of your tongue down the underside of his cock. That vein you’d traced with your fingertip, yours for the taking, covered in a faint line of saliva as you let it rest on your forehead and graze your lips against his ballsack.

He can’t hide his shiver, even as his fist flies to his mouth to bite down on.

“Have I ever told you how cute you are?” you say low enough for just him. You can hear the sounds of traffic, a dog barking, birds singing — all reminders of the outside world and the looming threat of being caught. Warmth floods you again at the reminder of that threat, thighs clenching closer together in a desperate search of friction, “Just falling apart for me, acting so tough for so long until I got you alone.”

He whimpers your name. It’s the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.

You wrap your lips around the sensitive skin, sucking and pecking away on one side before moving to the next. His reaction throttles your movements. When his hand loses the fight of resistance, coming down to the back of your head, you laugh breathlessly against the now wet skin.

“Let me make you feel just how worthy you are to me,” you praise, pulling back finally, letting your nose brush against his sack as you do so. The hand that was once merely resting now tangles up in your hair — a warning.

You let the velvet skin of his cock drag down your cheek as each movement is deliberate, taking your time and in no rush. You want to savor him like this. Imprint him to memory.

You want to make him forget while making yourself remember.

You want to remember the way his hand flexes at the base of your skull when you finally kiss his tip once more, remember the way his abdomen tenses as you sink him further into your mouth. You want to remember every little sound that escapes him as he hits the back of your throat, as you constrict around him, as you moan around his base and the vibrations have him slipping out of control.

Your nails dig into his thighs to balance yourself, eyes watering as you look up at him. One subtle nod. He doesn’t need more than that.

Your jaw goes slack, trying to steady your breathing through your nose as you let him take control. His hips thrust at their own pace, gentle enough that he only grazes the back of your throat rather than bruise it. The issue is you want him to bruise it. You want him to mark you from the inside out. Until there’s no part of you left untouched by him.

You gag again, and he slows. Your fingers that grip his thighs immediately tap against him, and he mistakes it as a signal to pull back completely before you chase after him, pressing him onto your tongue until your lips are snug around his cock a mere inch from the base. Your nose is grazing those pubes in the dead center of all your love marks. Shapes of semi-permanent scars that whisper, you’re worth it to me. I want this. I want you.

The last thing on his mind was Chrissy Cunningham and her words alluding to him not being worth it.

You make sure of it when you finally release him from your mouth and begin to pump with an eager fist, ducking down and returning to pay attention to his balls once more. You nuzzle the soft skin, let the tips of your canines graze them before you suck them onto your tongue as you’d done his cock. He’s no longer containing his moans – they flow freely along with curse words, chants of your name, sounds you’d love to capture and play on repeat until the end of your days.

“Oh my God,” he groans out particularly loudly, “Fuck, baby. J-Just like that, please- Fuck. You’re doing so good for me. Such a good girl, just for me.”

Your hand is still wrapped around him, slowly coming up to squeeze hard around the tip as you whisper up to him, “Only for you.”

“Yeah? Only for me?”

You don’t know how to explain to him that it’s true: you’re only ever that mean for him, you’re only ever this eager for him, you’re only ever this desperate for him.

You don’t answer him with words. There are none. Instead, you take him back in your mouth, and you solely focus on bringing your deity to climax. The man you were worshiping, the man who was worth the ache in your knees that surely told you they would be left bruised, if not skinned.

“Is it just like you imagined?” you question as you break your lips off him. He’s close, leaking precum excessively and entire body taut, “Was it worth it? To picture this, to want this so badly?”

He almost can’t answer you, but somehow manages between pants, “It was. It is. You’re- fuck, you’re worth it.”

“Good,” you drop your hand from him, leaving him right on the edge as you rest both sticky palms on the tops of your thighs. You look up at him with relinquished control – the perfect image of submission, for him. “Then you get it. When I say you’re worth it, you get it.”

He’s clearly still reeling from you bringing him so close only to leave him hanging, teetering on a cliff as he stares you down.

His chest heaves as he questions, “What was it you wanted me to do earlier?” A deceiving hand comes down, tucking any baby hairs behind your ear and cradling the side of your face. One moment, his thumb is stroking a soft arch beneath your eye, the next that hand is pulling you up, “Make you?”

You know that if you hadn’t been so eager to follow his touch, you’d still be on your knees. Even as you watch him take the reins, you know you will always call the shots – just like he had said.

“You really think you can make me hate you?” you whisper once you’re standing tall in front of him, leaning your cheek into his touch.

“I shouldn’t have to make you hate me,” he corrects, the thumb back to gentle strokes, loosening the touch to be more tender once again, “You should already hate me.”

“Why?”

He flips positions immediately, your lower back now curving into the railing as he presses himself up against you, his achingly hard cock between your bodies, “Because of this. Because I always want you on your knees for me. Because of all the fucking filth I want to do to you. I want to bend you over, right here, and take you where anyone could see. I want to have you screaming my name loud enough that every single person on the streets of this city hears you.”

With each word, a knot ties inside of you, desperate for release.

“Because you’re fucking right,” he leans down, lips going straight for your neck, not looking you in the eyes, “All it fucking took was for you to get me alone for one night, and now? I’ll never get enough of you, I’ll never get clean of you,” he takes a deep breath, and suddenly, his lips latch onto you, sucking the skin between his teeth and biting hard. You can’t stop your fingers from latching onto his curls, tugging hard, body rolling into his. It hurts, it stings, you need more, “Everything changes. And that includes me.”

His face finally leaves the crook of your neck, pulling back to look you in your eyes. Doe brown eyes search yours, wide and honest and pleading. You let everything else melt away; for a moment, it’s only him and only you. The tension, the last twenty one hours, the last year — you let it disintegrate and focus on him.

It never mattered if everything changed.

It only matters that he’s changed, irreversibly, and so are you.

“How can I hate you for those things?” you press into him again, this time less desperate and more consciously, “Do it.”

“Do what?”

“All of it,” you trail a hand up his chest, “Every single thing you just said. Fucking- Do them. Bend me over, make me scream, change me,” your voice breaks, shaking with anticipation and need.

It’s all the encouragement he needs.

Every single thing he wanted, he craved, he does. A flurry of him properly discarding his jeans as he unbuttons yours to shove them down, spinning you and shoving you hard enough into the railing that it digs into your abdomen and leaves you breathless. You’re hardly aware of the way you step out of your pants and kick them to the side, looking out to the city skyline but not seeing it. It’s all a blur as you focus on the way your shirt rides up and he grabs your hips, bruising you finally as you have desperately needed.

You wanted to be left haunted by the end of these last few hours. You wanted to see him every time you looked in the mirror for the next week, to remember the map of where his body molded to yours. You want to dream of the way he stretches you as your underwear is ripped to the side. You want to be followed by the sounds of his skin slapping against yours as he snaps forward with intention.

Changing you. He has no idea that he’s already ripped you open from the inside out, has already rewired your entire chest and set flames to your brain.

Everything changes, and sometimes, everything is only two people. Just you. Just him. New versions that would have never met had it not been for this stupid fucking bet.

“Eddie,” you nearly sob, nearly choke on, his name burning in your throat like kindling embers.

His hand walks up your spine, trailing wildfire even with a layer of cotton between you two. Burning and singing away all you’d assumed for far too long. When he reaches the nape of your neck, he takes care in wrapping your hair around his wrist, tugging back hard and forcing you to stand from where the railing had been bending you in two.

“Say it again,” his lips brush you ear with every gasping breathing, timing with the way his cock is sliding in and out of your warmth, “Say it louder.”

“Fu-“ you start to moan, cut off by him pulling even harder on your hair, making his point so that you cry out, “Eddie!”

He thrusts harder. You swear you could feel him in your throat.

“Scream for me, baby,” an arm wraps around your torso, firm and solid for you to cling to rather than the warming metal of the railing, “Tell them who’s making you feel so good. Let them know. Be a good girl.”

Even when he claims to have control, it’s your actions, your reactions, that call the shots.

It’s the echo of your voice that spurs him on as you chant his name over and over, as if he were your only God. Primal worship dripping from every syllable. It’s the tremble in your thighs that has him pressing deeper into you, chest glued to your back as if he could never get you close enough. It’s the clench of your cunt around him, a vice that sucks him in as you drag him closer to the high he’s been dizzily chasing since you first dropped to your knees in front of him.

It’s you. You’ve changed him, as he’s changed you.

He pulls your hair until you rest the back of your head against his shoulder, back arching and feet still spread as he only maintains his quick and brutal pace, leaning down to whisper in your ear one last time.

“You know the real reason why you should hate me?” he grits out between to particularly forceful thrusts, “It’s not just because I don’t deserve you. It’s because I’ve wanted you for so long,” you’re right on the edge, fluttering around his cock as his movements stutter. A tell tale sign. “I- fuck, fuck. It’s- God, I’ve loved you for so long, and I’ll never be fucking worthy.”

You shatter around him in waves. Your entire body tenses as the words dig claws into you, piercing through vines and blooms. His body stills, warmth flooding you deep within as you continue to see stars. You can’t make a single sound, fingerprints surely left behind on where you clasp onto his forearm.

I’ve loved you for so long, and I’ll never be fucking worthy.

When the waves recede, when the high has passed its peak, you both freeze. Your body tensed in his hold, struggling to process what he’d just said.

Loved you.

He’s frozen in place, scrambling to figure out how to undo the damage just done.

I’ve loved you for so long.

He slips out of you, his spent dripping down your thighs. His forearm drops from you. Your hands don’t even try to stop him.

I’ll never be fucking worthy.

You should be worried of neighbors coming out to see the two of you on his balcony. If not worried, you should be embarrassed, or aching at the thought once again. Anything. You should feel something.

You turn slowly to him, entirely numb as you catch his rueful expression.

Loved you. He loved you.

His regret turns to pain as you whisper, “What did you just say?”

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#my writing #twenty four hours #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #if it's bad do not tell me #stranger things

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mechaknight-98 · 6 months

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Festivities (NSFW) FT Sakura Miyawaki

Authors note: Sakura has been too hot this comeback, and it's her birthday today…so yeah enjoy

Part II

Sakura sighed as she sat alone on her birthday. She had expected this as her favorite boy toy had told her he would be busy but would make it up to her. Her other members all had schedules throughout the day which made it harder for her. Sakura didn't hate being alone. she liked being by herself and relaxing and reenergizing like a true introvert but hated the feeling of being isolated and today she felt it. So after she did her birthday live she was colored surprised when she got a knock on the Door. She squints as she opens it and shock paints her face Daigo smiles and enters her Dorm.

“Long time no see Kura.” the young man says to her. Sakura smiles

“Yeah oh my gosh, it has been so long. 3 years right?” Sakura asked. Daigo nodded.

“So how have you been?” Daigo asked

“Busy” Sakura replied

Daigo smiled, “Honestly same work has me drowning most days, but that's trivial. It's your birthday today! You know I had to come and celebrate with you. So what do you want to do today Kura?”

“Hmm? Let's go to the PC bang!” the Japanese woman said excitedly.

Daigo nodded but dreaded internally he knew what she was going to ask him to play with her and he was not happy about it. “What do you want to play Kura?”

“Destiny 2.” Daigo reels for a moment then acquiesces.

“Okay,” he relents as the two of them go to the PC bang. Sakura is elated. She hated being isolated as recently as it made her feel empty almost. After having spent so many years around sisters having space all to herself felt wrong. She was surprised to see her gaming pen pal of many years but appreciated the company, especially since her usual boy toy was with Chaewon and her schedule. She supposed this is the reason you don't fuck your managers but Sakura needed it with all the anxiety and doom-scrolling she would often fall victim to she needed someone to vent her fury on to.

“So Diago when did you fly in?” Sakura asked as they walked together. She grabbed him tightly clinging to his warmth in the cool early spring air

Daigo counted in his hands “Um two days ago.” Daigo answered

“Was it just for me?” Sakura asked hopeful

“Of course, my little Cherry Blossom,” Daigo responded Sakura smiled and grasped him close tighter,

“Your Korean has gotten much better,” Sakura noted.

“Well, I have an excellent teacher.” Daigo praised Sakura she smiled. She loved how sweet and kind he was to her.

“How is everyone? This comeback has been…extensive from what I've seen.” Daigo asked choosing his words carefully as he saw a myriad of emotions in Sakura’s eyes. The main one is Fatigue.

Feeling comfortable Sakura slipped out of Sakura Miyawaki the it girl, idol, host, and fell into Kura.

“Oh god, it's overwhelming. Our company has been running us ragged. Can you believe they have us going to California right before the world tour?” Daigo raised an eyebrow. A world tour hadn't been announced previously, but he let it rest.

“Well for that Cali trip, I may be able to potentially confirm that you may or may not see a friend there.” Daigo obfuscated.

Kura looked at him confused, then asked,

“What state are you from Daigo? When you speak English your accent doesn't sound like this from anywhere.” Daigo smiled

“I'm from Cali Kura.” Daigo chuckled and watched as Kura put the pieces together.

“You're coming to visit?” Daigo nodded to which Kura smiled brightly and hugged him, but then a sad feeling washed over her

“I wish you could stay in Korea,” Sakura said wistfully.

“But then I wouldn't be your cool American friend I'd just be your loser gamer friend in Korea.” Daigo half-joked. He looked at Kura before adding. “Your hair is pretty this way I like it.” Sakura smiled as she twirled around accidentally whipping his face with her ponytail. Daigo reeled from her unintended attack. As Sakura turned around ( and realized what happened ) she profusely apologized for her actions, but Daigo took it in stride.

After the PC Bang and dinner, Daigo led Kura up to her dorm.

“So Kura need anything else?” Daigo asked politely as he stood in the open doorway. Sakura’s eyes narrowed.

“Yeah your cock.” she says huskily as she slams the door shut with surprising force. She quickly pulls down Daigo’s sweatpants and gets on her knees. She begins to mercilessly suck his cock

“Shit Kura.” Daigo hisses at her aggressive behavior. While it's a bit of a turn-on, it's still shocking she began to fondle his balls hoping to coax a large load from him

“Can you give me two loads for my birthday one large one down my throat and the other in my pussy, I need it,” she said as she came up for air. Before going back down on him. Daigo groans as he hardens in her mouth. After he's reached full mast Sakura smiles

“There we go.” she cooed as she led Daigo to her bedroom. Where she quickly resumed her vacuum-tight seal. As she sucks Daigo off she also lathers his cock with her spit before using her tongue to stimulate the tip before poking his slit with her tongue causing Daigo to jerk his hips. Sakura smiles around his cock. Seeing the usually calm and collected Daigo so flustered encouraged her to suck harder and harder until

“Fuck Kura I'm cumming.” Daigo said in English but Sakura based on his body still got the message as he exploded into her mouth. She kept sucking to extend his orgasm for as long as possible. Daigo eventually had to pry her off of him. Sakura opened her mouth to reveal his load and she swallowed.

“Thank you for the meal,” she said luridly before wiping the drool off her cheek.

The action itself was enough to get Daigo hard again. He dropped his pants fully and ripped Sakura’s off before lining up his cock with her pussy. Sakura gave a sexy lip bite to Daigo driving him wild and he plunged into her. Her sodden pussy greedily accepted the intrusion. Daigo grunted as he bottomed out.

“You're such a slut you know that?” Daigo said with a virile vigor as he whispered huskily into Sakura’s ear. Slowly he pulled out of her. As he did he said, “We go on one date and you're on your knees demanding two loads.” sakura’s eyes rolled to the back of her head. Daigo slammed back into her sex hard sending a ripple through Sakura’s body. Daigo watched with Devilish glee as Sakura’s ass rippled.

“Oh fuck.” Sakura moaned

“Is that it? are you just a breeding bitch in heat needing your stud to fuck and breed you,” Daigo said.

Sakura moaned. Her body tensed around Daigo’s cock at the mention of being bred. She loved it. The thought of being claimed by and filled to the brim made her wetter and tighter.

Daigo thrust into her deeper “Do you like that? Does the thought of being my exclusive breeding bitch make you wet?” Daigo asked.

“Oh God yes. Please make me yours. Ruin all other cocks for me.” Sakura moaned

Watching Sakura’s body and her responses made something click for Daigo “Has my little Breeding bitch been with other cocks. Bad girl.” Daigo said as he smacked her jiggly ass. Sakura’s tone took on an even higher pitch.

“Ah fuck, Ah fuck.” she moaned as Daigo thrusts into her relentlessly he never increases his pace. He keeps the same constant slow in and out but the intensity of the thrust is what wrecks Kura as she nears her climax.

“Are you close?” Daigo asks. Sakura looks over her shoulder and nods.

“Ready to become my breeding bitch forever?” Daigo asks and Sakura nods again giving in to her body’s demands

“Yes ruin and stain my slutty pussy with your cum. All I'll be good for is breeding. Fill me. Make me yours.” Sakura screams before Daigo explodes in her pussy triggering Sakura’s orgasm. Daigo continues to fuck her through it. As Daigo drops more and more cum into Sakura’s cunt her orgasm high raises higher and higher. As their bodies continue a feral heat claims both of them as they continue fucking. Kura’s pussy begins to drip beneath them as Daigo continues to pound her sopping sex.

“Does my breeding bitch like her birthday gift,” Daigo asks with a noticeable lusted husk in his voice.

“Yes.” sakura moans unsatisfied. “I need more. Breed me again.”

“Such a greedy bitch. Do your other cocks make you feel this way?” Daigo questions.

Sakura’s body and mind were now Daigo’s, “no cock has ever claimed me like yours.” sakura said as Daigo kept ravaging her. Sakura’s words and body beginning to affect him as well. He was never this aggressive to a woman but something breeding and Kura activated something within him he didn't know he had, and it bonded him to her as much as she bonded to him.

“Fuck Kura your pussy is so tight.” Daigo praised, and Sakura was elated proud her stud liked her pussy so much.

“Don't you love the way my greedy pussy sucks in your cock.” Sakura said in a lusted daze

“Yeah, my breeding bitch has the best pussy.” Daigo’s unexpected words of praise and his ferocity sent Kura over the edge again and she came again. Gone was the talented, accomplished, confident, and dominant megastar. In her place a dumb submissive and breedable bitch who was a cum dump for her stud. It was liberating to her. Her anxiety washed away with each drop of cum as her thoughts only centered around being bred. She groaned as Daigo kept thrusting into her and he continued to claim her slutty pussy.

Her surprise orgasm however took her partner by surprise and led to him cumming in her again. Sakura’s greedy cunt readily accepted the baby batter, but the fatigue of their activities prior caught up to them and they collapsed onto Kura’s bed together side by side. As they basked in the post-orgasm glow and enjoyed the company of each other a sad realization hit Sakura causing her to pout. As Sakura pouted, Daigo took Notice

“What's wrong Kura?” Daigo asked concern filling his voice.

“Now I'm going to miss you and that dick of yours.” she lamented. Daigo chuckled.

“Well I don't know about that second part but we can still play together.” Sakura’s pout slightly faded before saying

“Okay, but the next time I see you I want the same treatment.”

“What am I your boyfriend now or something?” Daigo teased

“Yes. Yes, you are. As of now, you are my stud and I am your breeding bitch got it?” Sakura asserted

Unsure of how to respond Daigo said “Um okay” Sakura smiled happy to get good games, good food, and good dick for her birthday. With all her needs met she fell asleep in Daigo’s big arms

#kpop fanfic #fanfic #male reader #miyawaki sakura #le sserafim smut #le sserafim sakura #le sserafim fanfic #izone smut #izone sakura

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jinwoosungs · 1 month

Text

08/10/24; 04:00pm

sung jinwoo x reader / sung jinwoo x cha hae-in

{ oneshot - angst to fluff }

- the academy arc -

{ we can’t be friends | but i’d like to just pretend | you cling to you papers and pens | wait until you like me again | wait for your love | love, i’ll wait for your love… }

perhaps you were destined to suffer with this unrequited love, you think to yourself while sneaking glances at jinwoo, watching as he turned the pages of his textbook while jotting down notes within the confines of his notebook.

currently, you were both studying for your upcoming college entrance exams. jinwoo had invited you over to his place, and you were settled within the quiet sanctuary of his room. surrounding you were pieces of jinwoo that made your heart turn even softer for him, and you swore you would never get used to how his scent seemed to permeate at the air. taking a break from your own studying, you decide to admire the various trophies he had won during his time spent on the track team.

of course, such winnings came as no surprise for you, since he had always been shockingly athletic. that fact has never changed-

however, his reasoning for joining track in the first place was what made your heart clench painfully within your chest. you recalled that day like it was just yesterday...

it was the first day of high school, and you recognized jinwoo from your elementary school years. gathering your courage, you decided to sidle up to his desk, earning a smile from him when you disclosed your identity to him. as you struck a conversation with him (reminiscing on old times), some rambunctious guys began heckling jinwoo while they surrounded both you and him. they made you incredibly nervous, and as one of them reached out to you, jinwoo immediately stopped them from grabbing you, standing from his seat as he spoke in a stern tone.

"leave her alone. if you want to get to me, then talk to me directly."

your eyes go wide when the boys seem to freeze up before moving stiffly away from you, their steps shaky and uneven, like they were puppets being controlled on a string. seconds later, they were all tumbling into the hallways, making your eyes go wide. a soft chuckle was heard coming from jinwoo, and once you looked back, you saw the secretive smile on jinwoo's face.

you may have had a crush on him at that very moment.

after that day, you cling to jinwoo like a lost puppy, having stars in your eyes at the mere sight of him. you comment on how much taller- on how much braver he had gotten since you had last seen him. while you gushed on him, he simply gives you a kind smile in response.

"thanks... i guess you could say i've worked out a little bit since i've grown."

"a little bit? jinwoo, you practically tower over everyone here! you must have plans to join an athletic club or something, right?"

jinwoo ends up considering your words with a hum before smiling back down at you. "i suppose i'd like to give track a try... after all... there's someone i'd like to meet."

his admission makes you stop dead in your tracks, your heart clenching just the tiniest bit when you see the warmth within his stormy gaze. he was clearly thinking about someone achingly special to him... and that made your throat close up as you struggled to get the words out.

"oh really? who is she?" you were surprised at how even your voice came out, unsure of why you were feeling this way over meeting an old friend again. jinwoo meets your gaze from your periphery and gives you a kind smile. "she's someone that's special to me... and i've waited a long time to meet her again."

that final confession was what ultimately stops you in your tracks, your heart aching at the fact that you would never get such a chance to be with jinwoo, especially when his heart had already been captured by another.

he notices the way you stop walking next to him and stops as well, eyes appearing wide when he asks if you were okay. you manage to let out a forced laugh, not wishing to admit the truth to him when you told him how you forgot you had a meeting with an advisor (a lie you had made up on the spot).

jinwoo ends up believing your lie and nods, walking closer to you so that he was now settled directly in front of you. amusement was seen in his gaze, and you could feel your breath become taken away by the sheer beauty and kindness of his smile. his large hand reaches out to you, and he ruffles it before stepping back, "okay, i'll see you tomorrow then. i'm going to head to the track field and talk to the coach about joining."

you nod and lift up your hand in a wave, watching jinwoo as he walked away from you with a heaviness felt in your chest.

since then, you tried to avoid him, or at least, tried to put some distance between you and him, yet jinwoo could never seem to take the hint. ever since that first day, he had already deemed you his best friend, further trapping your heart with the tendrils of love and affection you felt growing for him.

you spent the next three years remaining by his side, studying with him while supporting his efforts with each tournament he attended. yet instead of growing out of your crush for him, it grew to genuine feelings of love for him.

and this fact did little to hide the pain and envy you felt each time he answered her calls or eagerly replied to her texts, sometimes even going as far as meeting her during weekends to take her out on cute little dates-

looking back at him now, you felt your heart ache with the sheer amount of concentration was seen on his face. he was working so hard to be with her, to build a future with her-

a future that you were certain you could never be a part of.

in the midst of your reveries, jinwoo meets your gaze and gives you a smirk, "what are you looking at? is there something on my face?"

you shake your head and look back down at your textbook. since jinwoo admitted his feelings for this young woman named cha hae-in to you, you threw yourself into your studies and managed to make incredible grades. due to your own heartache, you decided to study abroad to get away from south korea, wishing to attend university in the united states, within the city of new york, to be exact.

you didn't think they would accept you, yet by some miracle, you were chosen to spend 4 years at a university there, hence why you were currently studying up on english grammar. however, there was a catch-

you had yet to tell jinwoo about your plans for college.

letting out a deep breath, you give your best friend a tiny smile before beginning to speak.

"jinwoo, i'm so sorry, but there's something i have to tell you."

he ends up frowning at your choice of words. "okay, what is it?"

with a heavy sigh, you shut your books and tell him, all while stuttering along the way, "uhm, w-well, you know h-how our school offers a s-study abroad program for u-universities we wish to a-attend?"

jinwoo's frown seems to deepen. "yes, i know about it."

"w-well, i signed up for the program a-and got accepted... i'll be moving to america soon."

hearing the news makes jinwoo drop his pen in response. "w-what? you're going to america?"

you could feel the anxiety coursing through your veins, "y-yes... i got accepted into a university in new york city and plan to leave near the beginning of january."

"NEW YORK CITY?!" jinwoo suddenly jumps out of his seat, his eyes widening so much that it seemed to bulge against his features, "t-that's so far away from here... why did you choose to go so far?"

to be as far away as i can be from you and the woman you love. but you don't tell him the truth, choosing to tell him a half-truth of sorts when you answer, "i've spent my whole life here, jinwoo. i think it's only natural for me to wish to expand my horizons and experience new things."

"y-yeah but... it's four years... what if you decide to never come back here?" jinwoo's voice becomes quiet all of a sudden, with his fists remaining clenched against his sides.

you let out a soft laugh, packing up your belongings one by one into your backpack. once everything was neatly in place, you stand back to your full height and meet with jinwoo's gaze. "it's okay... i'll be sure to keep in touch by texting you or calling you... but, i-i hope you'll forgive me if i forget or am too busy to call..."

an unreadable expression was seen in jinwoo's eyes, and for a brief moment, you could have sworn that his eyes flashed purple before going back to its original slate grey hue. not wishing to cry in front of him, you cling to your backpack and quickly excuse yourself, not even able to find the words to apologize to him for telling him such news of your departure so suddenly.

while you made your escape from his room, you were unaware of how jinwoo's intense gaze focused on your shadow, seeing loyal, glowing purple eyes looking back at him in understanding...

{ ... }

why was jinwoo such a mess now that you were no longer here?

after working so hard to pass the entrance exams for the last few months, he had plans of spending some time with you before you left for america... yet when he arrived at your place, you were nowhere to be found as your parents had told him that you had already departed for new york-

it had only been november at the time-

so you had lied to him as well?

and why did jinwoo's heart felt like it was on the verge of breaking?

your sudden departure coupled along with your obvious deception made jinwoo's heart clench with an unknown emotion. here you were, thousands upon thousands of miles away from him, leaving jinwoo feeling like he was drowning.

all of those shared laughters and inside jokes-

the times you spent remaining by his side during each and every one of his track meets-

and those late nights spent studying together, falling asleep together within the comfort of his bed-

had everything been all for naught?

with your absence drilling a hole within his heart, he found that not even hae-in's calls and texts could bring him out of this slump. jinwoo admits to how her beauty and awkward kindness had once ensnared his heart, making him think of nothing but meeting her again once he reset his timeline-

yet now, with you so clearly gone from his life, he found that he could not focus on anything but the memories he had of you-

memories of your smile and the way you would snort each time you tried to hold back your giggles while in class-

memories of how you would hide your face within his shoulder each time you watched a horror movie together, as if trusting him to shield you from all the monsters-

memories of how he could spend hours on end simply watching you sleep-

and it was only when you left him that he realized the truth of his feelings-

that you were the one he felt the most comfortable with... that by the end of the day, he would always need you and you alone...

with thoughts of you pushing him forward, he decides to finally come clean to hae-in one late afternoon on christmas eve. he wears his usual coat with a dark pair of jeans, expression forlorn as he felt conflicted with potentially breaking her heart. while walking across the streets of the city, he stops walking, already sensing her presence when he turns around to face her.

hae-in's hands were outstretched, bewilderment painting her beautiful expression. "there you are." jinwoo manages to smile at her, making hae-in take a step back as she brushes a hand across her golden strands of hair.

"it's like you have eyes in the back of your head, jinwoo." she hums and steps closer to him, "you took your college entrance exams last month, right? congrats. are you still going to the university you chose before? you got really good grades, so why are you set on going to that university?"

that was when things began to feel awkward on jinwoo's end. he coughs and was unable to meet hae-in's curious gaze. looking away from her, he shakes his head, "no, unfortunately, my plans have... changed since then."

hae-in seems taken aback by his confession, and jinwoo feels a wave of empathy coursing through his veins when he notices her expression, "i-it's not because of a woman, is it?"

jinwoo tears his gaze away from her, unable to give her a truthful answer without hurting her. yet, it seemed as though his silence was more than enough, making tears fill at her grey eyes as realization dawns within her tearful expression. "o-oh..."

with a shake of his head, he steps closer to her, "i'm sorry, for breaking our promise so suddenly. i thought... i thought i knew what i wanted... but... looking back on it now, she was the one who was by my side from the start."

hae-in's shoulders began to tremble in response, further filling jinwoo with guilt. "she was my best friend... and... she left me to pursue her dreams in america. now that she's not here, i feel... lost without her..."

"y-you wish to follow her?"

jinwoo closes his eyes before giving hae-in a nod. "i do."

a sob was heard escaping from hae-in, and jinwoo could feel the way she shoves him away from her, body trembling as she ran back home. his expression was filled with regret, watching hae-in running away from him. the soldier he had placed within her shadow lengthens in response to her movements, and jinwoo knew that she would be protected even if he wasn't around.

{ ... }

there was an odd sense of freedom felt coursing through your veins when you moved into your dorm, ready to start the semester. you were still surrounded by suitcases that held each and every one of the items you had deemed important to you.

as you took out each item from your suitcase, your eyes go wide when they saw a thick photo album you had no recollection of packing. taking it out, you watch as a note fluttered out of it, recognizing your mother's handwriting as it read:

i just wanted to pack you a little surprise; memories of your home, of family and friends who wish for nothing more than to support you. come back home and see us soon. love, mom

with tears filling your vision, you open up the album and flip through the first few pages, laughing at each picture before turning the page once more-

this time landing on a photo that had you and jinwoo smiling at the camera.

seeing his handsome face makes your heart well up with emotions you thought you had tossed aside. as your fingertips shakily trace at his handsome features, a sense of guilt filled you. you had purposely ghosted him, wanting nothing more than to leave south korea, just to put some distance between you and the man you had always loved-

a man who you believed with all your heart would forever remain an unrequited love.

unable to handle the pain of seeing jinwoo's face, you slam the album shut and let out a shaky breath. hot tears were felt streaming down your face, and your sadness was so potent- so palpable that it made the blood rush to your ears.

in fact, you were so distracted that you didn't hear the knocks at your door for several minutes. you gasp and look toward your front door, taking shaky steps toward it as you unlocked it.

"s-sorry, i was distracted, are you my roommate?" you spoke in english, earning a grunt from the person you assumed would be your roommate.

a deep hum was heard, "damn right i am." his face was covered by a huge box in his hand, and you saw the way his long legs kicked his suitcase inside, with your head tilted in response. you notice how he also spoke in english, yet there seemed to be a hint of an accent in it. a strange sense of familiarity fills you, and when you close the door was when your roommate puts down his box-

revealing himself to be sung jinwoo.

your breathing comes out in uneven breaths, with you taking a step back while meeting jinwoo's annoyed gaze. "jinwoo?!" you speak to him, reaching out to him with trembling hands. "t-there's no way... is it really you?"

jinwoo remains silent, simply taking casual steps closer to you, effectively trapping you against the wall. "who else would it be?" his reply was casual, and you flinch slightly upon feeling the way he brushes back your hair. with both hands settled against the wall, jinwoo prevents you from moving as he looks down at you, grey eyes shining with amusement.

your heart was felt pounding within your chest, making the heat travel all the way up to your cheeks when you shakily ask, "w-what are you doing here? aren't you supposed to be with hae-in?"

the jerk had the nerve to smirk at your question! he ends up humming in response, taking a hold of your hand to press a kiss against the back of it "are you jealous?"

you end up sputtering in response, "are you teasing me?"

he hums, "and what if i am?"

before you could answer, jinwoo ends up taking you directly within his embrace, chuckling as you struggled to get out of his powerful arms. "jinwoo!"

he simply hums once more before settling himself on the couch with you, hands already delving themselves into your hair as he leans in to give your cheek a kiss. such a sudden display of affection was enough to make your head spin as jinwoo tightens his hold on you. "when you left was the moment i realized you had taken a part of me with you... a part of me that i never wish to have returned."

his words manages to stun you, all coherent thoughts ceasing as pure and utter hope fills your gaze. he smiles down at you in a loving manner, choosing to frame at your face while continuing, "it hurt me, realizing how you chose to leave so suddenly without even telling me goodbye... but shockingly enough, it was thanks to your absence that i realized the reasoning for your departure was because of me all along."

"jinwoo..." tears fill at your vision, making jinwoo slowly lean down to press you against the couch in response. his gaze was intense, and he brushes back your hair before telling you, "you left because you loved me... yet i was too stupid and blind to realize it... until now..."

your breathing hitches when jinwoo leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. you eagerly respond to him, kissing him back with a fervor (pouring all of the yearning and heartache you felt for him building up within those 3 years). jinwoo groans against your parted lips, deepening the kiss momentarily before pulling away from you.

jinwoo's handsome features were all you could see when he smiles down at you, and you allow his large hands to delve themselves into your hair when he kisses your forehead once more, "i love you... i realize that i cannot live without you... so please... will you promise to remain by my side and never leave me again?"

his question makes you giggle, eyes filling with absolute adoration for him when you lean up to press a kiss against his lips all while reassuring him, "i promise..."

that was the moment the years spent yearning for him (along with your heartache) vanished completely as jinwoo captured your lips in another breathtaking kiss, swallowing the sounds of your laughter completely…

end notes: this is so self indulgent for me (⺣◡⺣)♡ but it was so worth writing. currently unedited, but i'll make any necessary changes once this is posted. once again, i don't trust tumblr to keep my drafts for long 😭 🙌🏻

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

#sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo sung x you #solo leveling x reader #writings 📖

208 notes · View notes

guardarecheluna · 9 months

Text

I'd do anything for smiles, i'd move heaven and earth.

Authors note: Hiiii! Uhh, so this turned-out way more angsty and emotional than I planned, which is probably what happened when I just go with the flow and write instead of trying to plan it all out beforehand. But I really enjoyed writing this piece, so let me know your thoughts! Love, Elle x.

Word count: ca 4k words

Warnings: Angst, fluff, talk about babies and pregnancy

Summary: Harry wants a family with Y/N, actually, he wants nothing else. Y/N isn’t so sure about the whole baby thing, until everything changes.

Y/N never wanted to be a mother. She was mother enough to her siblings growing up, and she knew; if there was ever a want to have a child, it would be an already existing child who needed a home.

Harry on the other hand always knew that it was his calling to be a father. He had this constant baby fever, always agreeing to babysit his friend’s children and tending to their little ones. No wonder he had an abundance of godsons and goddaughters at the ripe age of 26.

He also knew he wanted children with Y/N, almost the minute he caught her eyes at that birthdayparty, but 3 months into their relationship, they still hadn’t talked about if there was a possibility of children in the future.

Y/N had grown up being told that having children was the ultimate goal in life. She’d been told stories about how rewarding it was, how much love you got to give and receive, and how all the newborn sleepless nights was going to be worth it. She always smiled at the comments, knowing she’d never feel that way.

Her mother always told her that she had been the same when she was younger, but then when she had met Y/N and her siblings father, she just wanted to give him a baby. Almost like her biology and nature was playing a bigger part than her conscious. Her mother had told her that Y/N was going to know when she’d met the right man, that she would know that she loved him, because she would want to give him a child that was half her and half him, but Y/N doesn’t think she’s ever heard anything more ridiculous in her life.

Don’t get Y/N wrong, she loved children, and they loved her just as much, it was just that she couldn’t picture her life surrounded by another tiny human being. Taking care of them constantly, them always needing her in one way or another, hovering ang clinging on to her. Y/N was out of breath just listening to people talk about children.

3 months into Harry and Y/N’s relationship

Harry had agreed to babysit Scout; Sarah and Mitch’s baby. Just for a few hours while they got some things done that would be at least 10 times more difficult with a needy baby around. Scout isn’t a baby really, at 13 months old, but Harry would never admit that fact to anyone.

Harry was on the carpet of his own apartment, laying on his stomach, looking at Scout who was currently stacking cubes to make a tall tower. Harry had absolute hearts in his eyes for this baby. Looking at the small blonde boy, Harry released a sigh he had been holding when Scouts tower of blocks finally held up and was steady enough not to fall over. “Look at you, Scout! Your tower is so tall!” Harry exclaimed, impressed at his godson’s work, and expecting Scout to push the tower over, and starting his project once again. Instead, Scout looked up with his bright blue eyes and walked over to Harry, who was now sitting up. Scout threw himself right in Harry’s arms, giggling and babbling something to him with his teethy grin.

Harry felt like he could cry. Melt into a little puddle on the living room floor, just a wet spot in the carpet for Y/N to mop up when she got home. “You’re too good to me” Harry said once again when Scout regained his balance and started over with his blocks again.

Harry placed his large hand over the baby’s back, strong him gently to let him know that he was still behind him. Scout had blonde little locks ending just at the nape of his neck, and a stylish little outfit on, he looked almost like a little old man. Harry curiously continued watching Scout playing, reacting to his towers and stacking, now and then running his hand trough Scout’s blond locks. Yeah, he could get used to this.

Y/N’s footsteps were heavy, coming through up the stairs to Harry’s house, and in over the doorstep. Her shoulder was aching with her massive tote bag carrying around everything she could possibly need for a workday – she just wanted to cuddle up at home, with Harry.

She heard giggles from the lounge as she took of her shoes. Simultaneously smiling and being slightly annoyed at the unwelcome guest, she was just so tired.

She walked through the hall until she arrived at the lounge. Two messy looking boys looked up at her in surprise, seeming very invested In building some kind of tower with building blocks.

“Hi my darlings!” Y/N put a smile on. She really couldn’t stay annoyed with Scout in the room, he just had this incredible vibe to him, it was impossible not to get in a good mood around him. “What a lovely surprise to come home to.” Y/N continues, settling down next to Scout and Harry. Although, just by looking at Harry, Y/N knew he was in baby-mode. A constant smile on his pink lips, eyes barely leaving Scout for a second.

Scout was happy to see Y/N, leaving his blocks for a minute to get some cuddles in from one of his favourites. Harry also leaned in for a kiss, smile still on his lips, putting his arms around them both and nuzzling baby Scout’s forehead with his own. Yeah, he was going to get used to this.

Later that evening, full of homemade pasta and wine, Harry and Y/N cuddled up on their sofa, Scout having left with his parents hours ago. Harry had waved him off and was throwing kisses to him as Mitch walked out with Scout in his arms.

“What’s with you, today?” Y/N whispered softly to Harry, lips ghosting over his jaw, leaving wet kisses along the stubble. Harry’s cheeks instantly flushed, feeling a word vomit consisting of love, babies and the future coming up his throat. He thought about babies way too often, and of course, he was still young and had many years to plan his family, however, when he looked at Scout and Y/N cuddling earlier in the afternoon, he knew he had to let it spill out how much he wanted a baby at some point.

“I just…” Harry trailed off, looking at the ceiling to try and calm his beating heart, knowing that with Y/N’s soft kisses on his jaw, it was going to be impossible. He continued, “Seeing you and Scout cuddling and playing today was just…you’re it for me. And I can’t fucking wait until we have one of our own. A little mix of you and me, I can’t imagine a more perfect thing even If I tried.” Y/N felt her blood run cold at his comment. He had taken for granted that they were going to have children one day, and she was going to have to break his heart with what she was going to say next. She felt cruel, also aware of how many women on this earth who would kill to have Harry say that to them.

She had been quiet for far too long now, frozen up in Harry’s tight embrace. She realized that it was no use for her to say anything else but the truth.

“Harry, we haven’t even spoken about having children. I…I’m not sure I want that for our future.” She spoke gently, knowing that this may break his heart into microscopic pieces, his feelings for her turning to absolute dust and flying off to an unknown destination.

It was Harry’s turn to freeze up. He could feel tears burn in his eyes, jaw aching at those simple words. She didn’t want to have a baby. She didn’t want to have a baby with him. Harry truly couldn’t imagine a worse scenario for himself. He had found the love of his life, but she didn’t want children. Harry knew better at this point in his life than to just keep it to himself. Bottle up his needs and feelings and bury then deep, deep underground. But right know, in this situation, he didn’t know what to do besides breathing deep and calming his becoming tears. “Dove, I, what do you mean you don’t want it? Not right now or not ever? C-cause I didn’t mean right now, I just-“. He babbled out, eyes still focused on the ceiling, knowing that if he looked at her, he’d break into pieces.

He awaited her answer with a sweat forming on his brow, hands clammy as they tried to hold on to her as well as he could, but metaphorically, he could feel her slip away from him already. “Not right now. And probably not at all.”

The tears he had held onto fell.

1 year later

Harry really hadn’t expected to become so emotional about their conversation from a year ago, he blamed it on his emotions running high from when he babysat Scout earlier that day.

Harry didn’t let Y/N see his tears that night, everything was still new between them, and after that night, they had both agreed that they would talk about it another day.

But the thing is, the thought of Y/N never wanting a baby with Harry, absolutely killed him. It was like ever since that day, he had a grey little cloud above his head, having her words wash over him like the high tide at any point of the day.

Harry knew he couldn’t hate her if she didn’t want children. He knew that some people just didn’t want children, and he would have to accept it, even though the thought of not having his own family was aching in his bones.

He knew that if this continued on, he would have to choose between staying with her, the love of his life, but probably never having children, and leaving her, knowing that he could have a family of his own, but never with the only person that he wanted that with. At this point, all the thoughts were swirling in his head, causing a migraine. It always turned out this way, and none of the options he considered was making him happy. He loved her so much. So much that he could barely breathe when he looked at her. He hadn’t been in love before he met her, and he was in love the moment she met eyes with him. She was everything, but this couldn’t continue any longer.

Harry felt all his emotions from that day resurface when he entered his bedroom, Y/N laying cuddled up on his bed, freshly showered, with her nose in one of his books he had recommended to her. As he stepped inside, his breathing was shaky, and from that point on, he couldn’t hold it together for even a minute longer.

Y/N looked up at him, confused with the sudden rush of emotions in the room. She opened up the duvet for him, and he crashed into her body like a limp doll, grabbing on to her for his life, knowing that it may very well be the last time that he got to do so.

Y/N had been on her own journey in the past year. A year of self-discovery, of pain, pleasure, and allowing things to come as they are without trying to put to much thought into it.

After their conversation about family and children that night, just three months into their relationship, Y/N was still sour about the way she grew up, caring for her siblings, taking on way to much responsibility at such a young age. But she wasn’t angry anymore. She had realized that it didn’t do her any good to think about her past and let it swallow her whole. She wanted to focus on the future, her work, her relationship with Harry and their future together.

She was so in love with him, like the moon loved the stars, like the river liked the rocks they were flowing with. He was everything.

The memory of their conversation from a year ago hurt her heart. She knew it had broke him. But they were also just three months into their relationship, she was angry at her family and fresh into being alone and self-sufficient as an adult. She couldn’t think about having kids, she wasn’t in the headspace.

But as their relationship evolved and bloomed, she couldn’t help but to think about their future together, maybe as a family. The glimpses of him with his godchildren, the way he was acting around them made her body run hot.

How much she denied she wanted children, she couldn’t anymore. It would be a lie. The thought she almost didn’t dare to think, their own baby was creeping into her head more and more since that conversation. Since she had truly fell in love with him. And there was no longer any reason do hide it or deny it.

Harry’s body was shaking under the duvet, gripping onto Y/N’s body for some type of comfort. Y/N was confused, but gentle, letting him trap her with his tall body, and running soothing circles over this bare back and shoulders. “Shhh, darling, what’s on that beautiful mind of yours, huh?” She said gently against his unruly hair, sticking out everywhere.

And he told her. He told her everything on his mind and placed all of his card on the table. He had given up any hope of being truly happy, weather it was with or without her. It was her time to cry, her breathing harsh and guilty. She didn’t know he was still thinking about that, and so constantly as well. She had been thinking about casually talking about it with him, revisit the conversation and drop some hints about her current state of mind. She had no idea he felt like this, like the only options were to be with her and have no children, or to leave her to be with another that could never make him truly happy, but he would have a family with.

Y/N let him spill out every single one of his thoughts, gently carding through his hair, trying to calm him down, and unconsciously letting him know that is was all going to be alright.

When he finished, he felt like jelly, his body weak and dehydrated. “Alright my love.” She told him as she switched their positions in the bed, their bodies flush against each other, facing each other with only so much as a few centimetres between their wet faces.

“Let me tell you about this past year…” She started, as he listened to her voice telling him everything he had wanted to hear all those months ago. His breathing was slowly evening out, but tears still fell steady as she went on. He placed pecks on her puffy lips now and then, listening, awarding her with more kisses when he realised; it really wasn’t as bad as he had thought, she did want a family. As long as it was with him, and as long as it was never going to be as it was with her own family.

2 years later

She was going to tell him tonight, and she wanted to make It special.

Y/N’s now fiancé was at the studio, and while on facetime with her best friend, Maya, she told her about something she had been keeping a secret for the better part of the 2 hour call. Y/N was pregnant. And she did want to tell Harry first, of course, but her head was spinning with thoughts and she wanted to make the announcement at least a little special, so she needed advice. Maya was screaming bloody murder over the call. She was jumping up and down, tearing up and couldn’t seem to get the information into her head. Her best friend was going to have a baby.

Y/N had barely even been able to work through the information herself, but she also had tears streaming down her face.

Her and Harry had another babytalk when they had gotten engaged, just 4 months ago. It had been hours into the night, the moon shining bright onto their bed and lighting up the room. They wanted it. They wanted it now. Names had been thrown around, ideas for a nursery, and Harry was absolutely dying to get started making a baby.

Y/N had a Nexplanon implant for the entirety of their relationship, and a part of her wanted to call the doctor immediately to have it taken out.

She did have it taken out, just weeks after their conversation. Harry was away on business for three weeks, the perfect opportunity as the little incision would leave a few bruises and scars on her arm. She decided on not telling him that she got it removed, and if she was able to become pregnant quick enough, it would be an ultimate surprise. She knew where he stood anyways, it wasn’t like he didn’t want to put a baby in her as soon as he could, he wanted nothing else.

“I honestly don’t even know how to tell him. “I want to make it at least a little special.” Y/N sighed to Maya over facetime, head empty of any and every idea she had ever had. “I don’t think it has to be that special, it’s still an intimate moment, and Harry will surely love it either way. I think with him it’s just best If you catch him when he’s in that disgustingly loving mood you always have him in.” Maya said and rolled her eyes. Y/N smiled at her comment. She did get him in that mood often. He was almost always loving up on her when he had the opportunity. “Yeah,” Y/N said, lost in thought about how to tell him. “I think you’re right, maybe I’ll get him something cute though, I don’t know. I just feel like I could absolutely burst, I just want to tell him right when he gets home.” Y/N continued, gauging Mayas reaction over the phone. Maya offered her a big smile. “I think you should just tell him tonight.”

Harry had burst through the door a little past 6 that night. Voice strained after a whole day of writing and vocals on his new record. He looked visibly tired, but he lit up as soon as Y/N met him in the hallway of now their house. Without a single word falling from his lips he reached his arms out for her, like a child needy for a good cuddle. And of course, she welcomed his embrace with her heart in her throat, like always when he was around her.

“Hi, Dove.” He murmured into her neck, as he breathed in her scent, making a home for himself in the crook of her neck. “Hi” She shyly got out as he embraced her, placing a few gentle kisses on her lips. “I have a surprise for you.” Y/N said cryptically as she looked him in his eyes, wanting to play It off as serious. “You do, yeah? My lovely fiancé at home, giving me a surprise, huh? You know I’d rather have you on a silver plate than-“ he said in his tired tone, eyes gleaming and playful as he straight up admitted his horniness right as he stepped through the door.

“Jesus Christ, you have the mouth of a sailor, I swear.” Y/N chuckled and pushed herself away from his grip, but not without giving him another kiss. “I’m pretty sure you’ll want this surprise.” She continued as she walked away from him, sitting down on their sofa.

Y/N had cozied up the room before Harry got home, fluffed the pillows, lit some candles and got out something to drink for them as well as placing the wrapped up pregnancy test on the coffee table.

Harry eventually arrived into the lounge, raising his eyebrow at the wrapped up gift laying on the table. “S’that for me?” He said playfully. Her heart was beating out of her chest. She felt guilty not telling him about her implant but was sure that the guilt would be washed away with pure joy and excitement at any given moment. Harry sat down right next to her, looking at her face carefully and studying it for any kind of clue of what could be hiding inside the wrapper. “You know you don’t ever have to get me anything, Dove, but it is a nice surprise.” He said, reaching for the gift on the table.

She could barely get any more words out of her mouth, they got stuck in her throat: Her eyes glazed over, knowing what was coming, which had Harry immediately dropping the gift, tending to her instead. “Hey, hey I’m sorry, was it something I said? Are you okay my love?” He carefully said as he took her in his arms, holding her and kissing her head gently.

At this point it was getting ridiculous, so she just laughed it off. She knew he would understand her behaviour when he got to see what was inside of that gift.

“Just open your gift already.” She lightly chuckled and made eyes at the gift, still sitting on the floor from where he dropped it.

And for a moment, something flashed in his eyes. Like he could sense what was coming, he eyed her for a moment, holding the gift in his hands. Harry said nothing more, but just ripped up the paper and was met with not one, but three very positive pregnancy tests, all yelling the word PREGNANT at him. “You’re going to be a dad, H.” Y/N almost whispered, and the tears had started falling for real this time. It was like the best confirmation in herfself that she could ever feel. THIS was what she wanted, the relief flowing from her, making her finally breathe again. Harry studied the tests quietly, Y/N could see his hand shaking from where he sat next to her. “This is a prank, you can’t- are you serious my love?” He looked at her for answers, and she could just kiss him with how he looked right now, lips puffy from biting on them, eyes wide and watery. “I’m fully serious, I got the implant taken out when you were away.” Y/N laughed and stroked his cheek for a moment. She couldn’t believe this was real, that he was real, and that he was hers.

And then he cried, he couldn’t get the words out, fumbling and falling right into her arms, making her fall back on the sofa. “You’re pregnant, Dove, we’re having a baby, I-“. Y/N could feel his wet tears on the side of her neck as he took in the moment, trying to regulate his tears and his breathing, but to no avail. He placed a large palm on Y/N’s lower belly, not yet showing any signs that she was expecting. He laughed, cried, and consistently stroked over her stomach as he kissed her with all the passion he had in his body. No matter how tired he was, he would never be too tired for a moment like this, it was like his whole body was on fire, never to be put out.

“I can’t even believe-, I love you so much, I love you, I love you and our baby so much, you’re everything, absolutely everything.”

And in that moment, Harry and Y/N realised that even if their ways had parted all those years ago, without having this baby, without having each other, everything would be pointless. This is what they were meant to be doing, this is where they were meant to be - in this exact moment.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #dadrry #dad!harry #harry styles one shot #ficmas

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fleetingcalypso · 4 months

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HIIII, if you don't mind me asking!

I have a prompt in mind thanks to a post I saw the other day on Instagram, and I think it's PERFECT for an Henry Winters fic, so here it is!

It is said that the ancient Greeks used the throwing of an apple to propose, and if you accepted the marriage proposal you caught the apple mid air.

Imagine that, after years of friendship and relationship, Henry proposes to y/n by throwing her?them? an apple and they caught it 👀👀👀

I'D LOVE TO HEAR YOUR OPINION

≋ Thank you for being my very first companion in this new beginning. I'll happily indulge you. I can only hope my vision is satisfactory.

≋ Henry Winter x GN!Reader ≋

≋ Word count: around 2,4k words.

≋ TW: Slight misogyny, probable manipulation and toxic relationship, Edmund "Bunny" Corcoran.

Henry Winter is a disease. I took notice the first time I laid my eyes on him. He carries himself as if he is Atlas, mantaining the entire world on his shoulders and as if the it weighs nothing at all. His friend group is not any better, quite frankly: twins, incestuous ones clinging to each other like abandoned pups, a queer young man, with hair as red as the sunset and a mask to put Melpomene and Thalia to shame, an insufferable brat and a clean slate of a man, completely and utterly empty inside, stuck in his fantasy. For some insane reason, I found myself part of this whorehouse as well.

Henry Winter rises above all of them, I fully believe that. The world bends to his will, it always has and it always will. He is the tempestuous sea that grinds down the cliff, he is the wind that bends trees with only a light breeze, Henry Winter in his magnificence is the Sun which the World revolves around.

He stands on the edge of the lake as I see him, towering over the calm surface, trusted book resting in the crook of his elbow and a red apple in his hand. If I squint and let the sun go into my eyes for a moment, I can wholly see him as Zeus, King of the Gods, unshackled by any guilt or any error he might have upon himself, he grips the fruit of sin in his palm, his thumb stroking the skin of it as if it was a lover’s cheek. “Henry,” I call out to the wind and I feel the Heaven I had created in my mind collapse when my voice reaches him. His gaze breaks from the horizon, it sets itself upon my figure, it feels like I’m no longer standing near Francis’ lake house, instead I’m perambulating through the Elysian Fields, at the edge of the world. This man is a disease, he is a drug, and I am but a servant of his world slowly stealing crumbs of what he offers me, becoming an addict before I can realize it.

“You should have stayed back with the others. I’ll be but a minute.” He speaks and it’s a subtle order the one he gives me, but I’ve never been one to follow instructions, even if given by Gods of his caliber. I am unable to move from my spot. It is an impossible task, almost herculean, how could it be anything else when this is one of the very rare moments we can catch, with just us present.

At my insolent inobedience, his lips tilt up into a grin. It is a swift motion as he tosses the apple to me, an even swifter motion as I grab it. And it ends there: Paris has chosen the one to whom the Golden Apple belongs to. He wordlessly approaches me, spins me around, rests his warm hand on the small of my back and guides me back to the house.

A week later, as I’m nursing him back to health after he's found himself victim to a vicious migraine, his kitchen acts as my sanctuary and it isn’t until after ten minutes of pure silence that his house phone rings, on the other side of it none other than Bunny. “How’s Henry?” He asks, and I doubt he is looking for an honest answer, “He’s resting,” I reply, hoping he might find some other poor sinner to bother. To my displeasure, he keeps talking, tasking me with the lowly chore of having to listen to him.

“That’s too bad! I’ve been meaning to talk to him about something of the utmost importance,” He professes, his smirk perfectly audible in the tone of his voice.

“I’m sure I can pass along the message, what is it, Bunny?” “Oh, I was just wondering if he could lend me a couple hundred dollars before he begins going mental trying to organize your wedding.” Now, this was one of the most dumbfounding sentences Bunny had ever spoken into existence. Even if it was for a fleeting moment, my mind could not comprehend him: ‘your wedding’ he had said, like he expected me to agree as second nature. “My wedding, Bunny?” I sought further information, with not little confusion in my voice, his newly founded dubiety mimicking my feelings.

“Yes? Your wedding. You know, the one Henry proposed to you not so long ago? Have you really forgotten?” His ‘know-it-all’ tone doesn’t do much to help me find what grain of peace of mind I have lost. “No, Bunny. Henry did not propose to me, you must be mistaken. We are not engaged, whatever you are drinking is doing you more harm than good.”

“Ah, but I’m as sober as a stone carving, dearest friend,” and there it is again, the mockery that so perfectly encapsulates what Edmund ‘Bunny’ Corcoran is. If Henry is a disease, then Bunny is the plague itself. “And I am not mistaken, I don’t know what the point of acting secretively is now that we all know about your engagement. You’re acting ridiculous.”

For once in my life, I find Bunny’s words interesting, and for as much as I would love for it to be reality, I know an engagement with Henry never occurred. Lest I was too inebriated to properly recall it.

“I for one,” he keeps talking, much to my dismay when I see Henry staggering into the room, “Would be heartbroken if my Marion were to forget a romantic proposal such as the one you experienced. Ah! I can feel it shattering already, my poor heart.”

“Bunny, I have to go.”

“Wait! What about the mon-” I’m quick to interrupt him by hanging up. With time it’s become almost an artstyle: ignoring Bunny’s requests this way is something not even Henry himself is able to do.

My fingers are still tightly wrapped around the handset, the only noise I hear is Henry’s rugged breathing as he struggles to keep himself upright. Such a prideful man, bested by a migraine. Were I not caught up in an internal turmoil I would have precipitously scrambled by his side, wrapped my arm around his body and guided him to his armchair, but now? Now I watch him, and he watches me. His eyes are like a hawk’s, they pierce right through me.

He hasn’t heard what Bunny said, I know it, I’m certain of it. Then, why is it that I feel like in front of me is not a man, but judge, jury and executioner. He’s waiting for me to do anything, my Achilles’ heel is waiting, standing right in front of me and it seems unsure of what to do: to mercilessly bore himself through me as a spear does to an enemy soldier or to let me make the first step into the battlefield unharmed.

“Bunny called.” My voice is unrecognizable to me, his hum is enough for me to keep talking, “He is often unruly, foolish and to be completely honest unbearable. One can always expect to be mocked when in his presence,” Why I find myself detailing our friend’s manners is unclear, perhaps I am searching for a grain of context where I can find only unsureness, “But he said something peculiar today, to my surprise. Something I find myself clinging on. It was but a short-lived conversation, yet, it flooded my mind with ‘what-ifs’.”

“Even Bunny has his moments.” His attempt at a joke is but a mere flicker of light humor, a fickle attempt to avoid this situation we are both stuck in. Knowing him, Henry right now would love nothing more than a glass of whiskey and for me to start working on his dinner. So I do. A sigh abandons my lips as I move to the kitchen, and before I know it I’ve abandoned the subject at hand, focusing instead on the sound of the bottom of his glass makes as it makes contact with the wooden table.

Henry, my gentle savior, pops me out of my bubble with just a few words. “I have yet to properly thank you for taking care of me this way.” I feel he wants to say more so I don’t interrupt and as expected my transcendental divinity blesses me with his voice once again, “My kitchen feels right with you in it, there’s a dent in the place you always occupy on the couch, for some reason I can’t bring myself to fluff it out.” A beat passes, “My bed feels warmer with you in it.”

Nights with him weren’t all that rare, but they also weren’t a regular occurrence. I know I’m not the only one to have seen Henry in his most intimate moments, the sheer passion we have shared wasn’t one that he kept locked away just for me. He is a giver, at heart. His heart, although cold and behind bars, has a need to give, all the time. I fear he thinks that if he does not give, then he has nothing himself.

“Are you saying I should move in with you?” I ask, the spoon I’m using to stir his dinner almost abandons my hands to fall into the pot. He is easier to read than he thinks, or maybe I am a fool with a crooked halo.

“I feel it is only proper.” His presence behind me is noticeable only when his arms wrap around me, his chest presses against my back and I delude myself this is a display of affection for an invisible audience, I mislead myself into imagining we are in a house full of people gazing at us with a soft smile on their faces, being participants of what could be our affection for each other. I know better. From the way his arms twitch, my beloved Henry is only using me as a crutch to make sure I am not burning his food.

“Is it?” The ability to form sentences seems to have fled my mind, “And why is that? Simply because I nurse you back to health?”

“I won’t lie and say that’s not part of why I want you here. I would have thought you had understood by now.”

Maybe I don’t know Henry as well as I do, because his words strike me with each syllable. “What Bunny said, he said something about a wedding. My wedding, your wedding, our wedding.”

And just like that the bandaid comes off. And a response never comes. His hair tickles my neck and the cold rim of his glasses sends goosebumps down my neck when he nuzzles his face in my shoulder. Now I’m sure I don’t know him at all.

“Our wedding.” He finally breaks the silence when he notices the spoon inevitably fell into the pot. I hear his soft whisper directly into my ear.

As my head turns to try and find his gaze, my eye falls onto the basket of apples set on the counter. Red ones, like the ones near the lake house. Red, the color of love, of passion and of blood. It ties together the two most gruesome things in human history, a pair that cannot be undone not even by divine intervention: Love and Murder.

“I thought you’d be overjoyed to be my bride. Was I wrong?” There’s a challenge in his tone, he wants to be challenged, almost wants me to deny him, but Henry knows. He knows I cannot deny him, ever. I don’t want to deny him.

Now it seems so obvious. Henry must think me a fool for having taken so long, even so, teasing him tastes just like sweet ambrosia and no matter how much I try, part of me cannot be restrained.

“Throwing an apple at a girl to claim her as your bride might have been the fashion back then,” His smirk is pressed into my skin as his lips kiss the spot right under my ear, “But might I have to remind you, Henry, not all of us are as knowledgeable about Ancient Greece's customs as you are. It was such an ephemeral moment it did not seem to have much meaning.”

“I’m offended, I’ll have you know I put quite a lot of thought into it.” His hands rest on my waist as they have done so many times, only now it doesn’t feel as inconspicuous as it used to be. I’m the last one to know, this is a first.

“I doubt aiming a fruit at my face took you much thought.”

“On the contrary, dearest. Were my toss too strong it would have hurt you, and that was not my intention.” His hand is warm, it’s all I can feel when it rests on my cheek, and as he did while holding the apple that day, his thumb strokes my skin. “It was entertaining to see you so oblivious, I have to admit, even if I owe Bunny around two hundred dollars now.”

“What for?”

“He bet everyone that you would not understand what my action meant until someone brought your attention to it.”

“That bastard.”

I have a sneaking feeling a diamond ring will sit on my finger before tomorrow, but for the time being, this is fine. Jewelry, accessories have never meant much, it’s just gold, silver, rubies. The way his lips press against mine to muffle my laugh means much more than any diamond ever could. I’ve spent long trying to not fall in love with Henry, and now I’ll spend even longer knowing what being loved by him feels like.

He is my Paris, kidnapping me from my rotten existence to be with him, and unlike Helen I accept this fate. Unlike Helen, I love my abductor, I love him so much this doesn’t even feel like a transgression. Henry holds my heart in his hands, as he did that apple, and it is his choice to chuck it as far as he can or to gently place it in a basket in his home. For the time being, he is being as generous as to handle me with nothing but love and care. If our story is to be narrated, like a Greek myth, like a victorious hymn, let it be forever like this, while we hold each other in our kitchen, exchanging the first kisses of our real, unmasked love.

#fleetingcalypso #calypsodaydreams #the secret history #the secret history x reader #henry winter x reader #oneshot #gn reader #reader insert #dark academia #fluff #angst

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