#like you can FEEL they matured and this new sound is proof of it

[koumeowkami]

the more i listen to turbulent storm the more it sounds like a eden song. it's scary

[cyberpxnk]

jealous | song mingi (1/2)

♡ part two

♡ pairing: mingi x fem! reader (afab) ♡ chapters: 1 out of 2 ♡ word count: 3.9k ♡ rating: mature/18+ (minors dni) ♡ genre: pwp, smut, established relationship 

♡ synopsis: choi san finds great fun in trying to seduce mingi's girl on the daily. on one particular night, you're left to deal with the consequences of san's actions after their concert. waiting alone in the dressing room, you fear that you're in for a wild ride.

♡ warnings/tags: idol! mingi, rengoku hair! mingi, brief mentions of ateez, smut, shameless tbh, jealous behavior, possessive behavior, sweaty mingi, san is a little shit but he means well, a lil bit of man handling, size kink, mingi GOT THE SCHLONG, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, praise, name calling, spanking, bruising, biting, hair pulling, slight dom/sub undertones, slight voyeurism

♡ author’s note: 

kinda proof read but not rly tbh

howdy, folks! this is my first time posting in the ateez writing community, so i hope this is to everyone’s liking. i haven’t written anything in a few years but the creative juices have been flowin lately !! 

this is also cross posted on my ao3, if you would like to support me there as well. this was originally a one part fic, but i’m currently in the midst of finishing up the second and final chapter. thank you and happy reading! comments r greatly appreciated :plead: :3

Swarmed by hundreds, your body is rocking amongst many others as the sounds of singing and shouting fills the air. The music is loud and pulsing through your ears, yet you feel at home within the crowd of fans. You don’t think you will ever get tired of seeing the boys perform live, despite spending nearly every waking moment around them. Similarly, Mingi is with you almost everyday yet you can never stop yourself from marveling at the sight of his lithe figure. It’s as if you’re seeing him for the first time ever with each new day.

With your hungry eyes following the fluid movements of his hips, he easily sways to the current song’s beat as he begins to drift further from your peripherals, heading toward the opposite side of the stage. Soon after his disappearance another figure soon comes into your view, their laced boots firmly planted on the stage in front of you. Even as those around you stir with excitement, your gaze barely strays from Mingi.

Only until hearing the screams erupt louder around you do you reluctantly tear your eyes away from his retreating back. Always being good at eliciting reactions from the fans, San’s sensual movements don’t go unnoticed by you or those surrounding him. The performer loved to get a rise out of making his fellow member jealous, although you were immune to his charms after many years of his ceaseless teasing.

To you, his flirting is almost always harmless and mostly just a hoax to get under Mingi’s skin. You can’t help but to roll your eyes at his obvious antics in trying to rouse you, but he instead begins to attract the aforementioned rapper back over to your corner. The male before you gyrates once more, hoping to further divert your attention from Mingi. It doesn't seem to take long for the other man to catch on as he practically stomps his way over to San.

Even if San's action never affected you, it always left a sour taste in Mingi's mouth. His jealousy was clear as day given how he was reacting now. Unseen by the public eye, his bout of anger was unnoticed by the fans — but not to you and San. In fact, the crowd is more than delighted by his quick return. His appearance beside his band mate prompts another round of enthusiastic yelling. Those around you wave and jitter excitedly and their mass of hands reach for the two idols, their phones held high.

Mingi is hovering close to the edge of the stage, mic in hand as he dances — his movements are aggressive, his irritations evident through the flow of his rhythmic dances. He bounces on his feet, rocking back and forth while following the groove of the music. It’s then that he tips his cap up slightly, immediately meeting your eyes with his own smoldering gaze.

Look only at me. The expression on his face says enough.

You can see a sliver of his tongue peeking out beneath his teeth before a shit eating grin is plastered across his features. He and his tongue do nothing but taunt you, slipping to and from his ample lips. You can’t help the flash of vivid imagery that briefly fills your mind. Eyes fluttering just barely, you find yourself imagining the wet appendage slipping into your hot cunt — his plump lips kissing at your wet folds as he eats you out. Fuck. The heat that rises through your body is immediate and you find yourself involuntarily shouting out for the man, joining the crowd as you all bristle animatedly from his interactions. He only smirks to you, as if knowing fully well what nasty thoughts were running rampant through that pretty little head of yours.

Mingi looks sinfully delicious in the fitted monochrome attire he adorns. Even he seems to know it, easily relishing within the attention he garners. You will definitely have to thank the stylists later. Even with little skin to show, limbs covered, the straps that hook around his lean torso only further excite you and feed into your fantasies. There's nothing more you want to do than to grab at the fabric of his shirt and yank him off the stage to make out. In front of the audience, you knew if he ever had the chance he would love to absolutely fuck you mindless on the stage. You also knew his sole purpose for frequenting your side of the stage so often was to get you hot and bothered.

You hated him for teasing you; loathed him for leaving you wanting and physically aching for his touch. The deliberate and slow thrusts of his hips are meant specially for you, but his cocky antics played it all off so easily. The fans would never suspect that he danced with such passion only to wind you up. Thankfully, you were not the only one amongst the fans feeling the heat from him. However, you did have the full satisfaction of knowing that at the end of the day you would be the one he was bending over.

Upon entering the dressing room, you could already see his sweat covered figure panting; exhausted from the concert yet seemingly more than ready to jump you. His breaths are labored with a primal desire and you can feel his heated gaze heavy on you. Yourself only adorned in a strappy crop top and tight little skirt left much of your skin exposed to his roaming eyes and little to his imagination. During the entirety of the set you two had exchanged many looks of yearning. The tension gave way and it was no wonder that he was ready to fuck you here and now. It isn’t long before his towering figure is looming over you, grabbing you abruptly as he practically tosses you against the nearest wall.

"Fuck!" A sputter of profanities. With the air being knocked out of your chest, you have no time to try to recover from his actions — literally breathless against his muscular frame. You can barely react as you're thrown up against the door with your back hitting the steel surface forcefully. Only the lean of his body and his taut muscles pin you up and you're nearly slipping down the door until you're scrambling to hook your legs around his waist. His broad hands find their grip on you, one squeezing a thigh to further hoist you up before the other grasps your hair tightly.

The impact has you feeling dizzy, yet you know you should be used to Mingi's roughness by now. There is a hard tug of your locks and you find yourself craning your neck to him obediently as he directs you by your hair with ease. The delicious expanse of skin is exposed to his eager mouth and he’s leaving hot kisses along your nape. Each brush of his lips burns into your skin, a fire further igniting beneath your belly. A whine bubbles from your throat once his teeth begin to graze along your throat, nipping gingerly.

Mingi has always been needier than you; always having to touch you, always wanting to taste you, and always needing to mark you. Despite knowing this, when he bites down between the junction of your neck and shoulder particularly hard, you can't stop yourself from crying out pathetically. His tongue allows you temporary solace, lapping against the tender wound before he begins to suck at the same spot. The hickeys he enjoyed leaving on the canvas of your skin were always welcomed, only fueling the desire that has been rapidly building over the night. The skin seems to bruise tenderly beneath his touches. Each mark is deliberate. He wants everyone to know that you were accounted for, especially San.

"You're mine." The baritone of his voice sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your core and you're nearly keening at his words.

"Yours," you breathily say back to him as your hands grasp his shoulders.

"That's right. You belong to me. You're mine and only mine." His lips find yours briefly before he leans up to bite your ear, his husky voice raspy and hot against you. The trickle of words that leave his mouth don't stop even as his strong hands begin to roam your body once more. One arm holds you steady against the door as the other dips between the apex of your thighs. You gasp out as his long fingers inch closer to your core, stroking along the clinging fabric of your already soaked underwear.

"Look at you. Already dripping for me. You've been wanting me to touch you all night, haven't you? My needy girl."

Another startled sound comes from you as he easily tears the flimsy cloth from your body, hastily shoving your underwear into his back pocket. You can barely utter a word, instead settling for a choked noise of surprise as two of his fingers suddenly plunge past your slick folds. The stretch is immediate and he wastes no time pumping his digits within you as his thumb circles over your clit. With your mind reeling, you can barely catch up to his actions. His fingers feel so damn good scissoring within you that any coherent thoughts you possessed swiftly diminished.

The breathy moan that falls from your lips is delectable and much louder than anticipated. You’re both well aware that anyone passing by could probably hear you two, but that only seems to encourage the man to continue his efforts. If he was going to fuck you senseless, he surely had hoped San could hear him through the walls.

"Mmm.. You like that, babe? Do my fingers feel good?" Before you can answer, his mouth slots against yours with fervor. You two are exchanging sloppy kisses, teeth knocking into each other as your bruised lips move in unison — hot and heavy with your tongues intertwining. The desperation to taste you is too much. It's evident among his greedy touches.

You're pathetically grinding against his palm, his fingers furled to press deep at the delicate tissue of your g spot. With his soaked fingers expertly delving back and forth inside you, he easily reaches spots that have you dizzy with pleasure. You're soft and pliant to his ministrations, juices audibly gushing down his wrist with every pump. The sound is embarrassing to your ears, but your writhing body spurs Mingi on as he's no sooner curling his drenched fingers harder against your arousal.

He detaches from your lips, his own lingering down your shoulder blade. His nose is grazing along your skin as you're painfully arched between him and the door. Each thrust is driving you further away from sanity, your mind hazy with lust. With your mouth agape, you cannot stop the string of garbled noises that fall from your lips. Mingi always knows how to make you fall apart at his hands. The size and thickness of his fingers were nearly enough to have your orgasm peaking, but it was never that simple with the man.

The entirety that fills you is fleeting and you're soon whining out from his withdrawal. The actions have you locking eyes with him, his pupils blown wide with lust. Breathing heavily from his swollen lips, Mingi looks frenzied the way he bores into you. You can feel him undressing you so readily with his stifling stare. He looks crazed, his fiery locks damp and wild. The sheen of sweat on his skin is smooth and his musk is heavy, intoxicating your senses.

“M-Mingi.. Please,” you mewl at him pathetically, clenching around nothing but your own heat.

“What do you want, needy girl?” Your skin feels hot from his question. You are shy to utter a response and instead squirm beneath him, hips meeting from your movement.

“You want my fingers?” He grasps your jaw with one hand, grip tightening as his thumb grazes along your mouth. You're eager to wrap your lips around his finger, tongue brushing against his digit.

“Or maybe you want me to eat that pretty pussy of yours?” A strangled noise forms at the back of your throat upon hearing his words.

“You can barely keep quiet around my fingers. Everyone is going to hear you scream if I do that.” He says such things as if the results wouldn't be the same regardless of how you came unraveled. You would take him all the same.

With the absence of his hands between your bodies, you're suddenly free to grind against his groin. You're desperate and needy for him to be closer, chasing a temporary relief from being teased toward your orgasm. The action is welcomed as you finally feel the shape of his straining erection pressed to your dripping slit. The material of his pants does nothing to hide his size, fabric growing increasingly wet from your movements.

Just as you're enjoying yourself rocking against him, you’re unceremoniously dropped by him and you're staggering to try and find your balance as your feet shakily hit the ground, knees nearly buckling.

“Mingi, what the fuck?” Hands meeting his shoulders, you're holding on as you try to keep steady.

He ignores your pestering and busies himself with removing his trousers. The sound of metal clinking is heard as his belt drops to the floor. Haphazardly he is tugging down his zipper, pants and underwear pooling at his ankles. In all his glory, he’s left standing before you as you openly ogle his well endowed size. Everything about him is so big and it turns you on immensely.

The sinful sight has your mouth going dry. It’s hard not to stare at how his swollen tip smears a trail of precum against the toned muscles aligning his stomach. You would drop to your knees then and there just for a taste, but knowing Mingi, he wouldn't allow anything of the sort whilst in charge.

“Can’t wait to take my big cock, huh?” Mingi seems extra mouthy today. You roll your eyes at his words, though they do nothing to quell the fire in your loins. It’s not long before you're closing the gap between your bodies, hands tangling within his tresses. Thankfully, he gets the message and shuts up as your mouths reconnect in a heated exchange of saliva. Tongues are met feverishly, enjoying each other's taste as you card through his hair.

Between gasps and whines, there is a playful tug on the bottom of your lip when Mingi begins to withdraw from the kiss. His hands linger along your neck, trailing to cup your cheek as his narrowed stare grows more intense with each passing second. You swallow thickly.

“Turn around and show me that ass, pretty girl,” he instructs, the low grovel of his voice shooting a tremor straight to your core. The new position you take feels vulnerable and it's evident as your thighs seem to tremble with anticipation once you've swiveled to face the door. Despite your face growing hot with embarrassment, you can't help yourself from turning slightly to try and meet his gaze with curiosity.

His eyes are zeroed in at the exposed skin beneath your skirt. From this angle he can see just how wet you truly are, your folds slick and coated with your own arousal. Large hands are soon gripping at your ass, squeezing appreciatively as he spreads them apart with a guttural moan.

“Fuck, you’re so wet… Are you this needy just for me, baby? You want me to make you cum that bad?”

You whine.

With a rough shove you stumble forward, flush to the wall with your chest against the door as the solid metal meets your torso. Mingi maneuvers you to arch forward, his feet planted between yours while he's holding you by your rear. You're whimpering against the door, expectant and ready once you feel the intimidating length of his cock finding its way between your drooling slit. He pauses for a moment, enjoying your squirming against him. 

The room almost feels too quiet, tension thick with your combined breaths as you listen to the slick movements of his erection teasing along your aching cunt. You jerk yourself back against him, forcing his tip to slide past your clit. This earns a pleased moan from you, but you're met with his disapproving tsk as he slaps your ass a single time in warning. The pain is resounding, stinging so good that you cry out for him.

“Look at you. So impatient. You can't wait until I fuck you full, huh?” The head of his dick inches past your walls. His movements still, listening to you as you try not to sob out in frustration.

“You’re going to take all of me in your tight little cunt, and I want you to scream my name so loud that San will never think to cross me again. Do you understand?” Mingi's voice rumbles deep and firm against the shell of your ear, the implications behind his words are dangerous and clear yet another wave of hot arousal courses through your body. The fresh trickle of liquid that begins to trail from your wetness down your thigh is enough to show the man just how desperate and obedient you will be for his cock.

“I said do you understand me?” He repeats himself once, voice raising as he grasps a fistful of your hair. You respond with a wince, eyes springing with tears at the sudden sting on your scalp.

“Do you?!” Another slap to your already reddening cheeks.

“Yes! I understand! P-Please, please! Mingi! I need you inside me!” You sob out to him, tears slipping down your cheeks.

"Good girl." A harsh snap of his hips forward and he's plunging himself deep within your cunt. You feel yourself stretch around the entirety of his size, eyes rolling back in pleasure as your walls wrap around his thickness. Your tears fall freely at the relief that floods your senses, reveling in how deeply he reaches within you. 

There is a mix between a wail and moan that falls from your mouth once he begins to rut himself against your backside. The pace he sets is brutal, pistoning hard into you as he shifts back and forth inside your heat.

The sound of skin slapping is loud, messy and wet, squelching with his every thrust. Gods, he felt so big inside you. Each movement is met by his labored panting, a guttural noise bubbling from the back of his throat as he angles himself to fuck into you mercilessly. He wants you to cum fast and he knows you'll be unable to last with how you're barely keeping yourself standing against the door. An arm encircles your waist, ensuring you're somewhat upright as his other is gripping your hip bruisingly.

The way his hips buck into yours drive you mad and each drag of his cock within your fluttering walls has you keening. The fullness of his size fills you so well that you can feel the pressure of his heavy length against your g spot.

“Mingi!” You scream when he pulls out of you completely before pounding back in particularly hard, making sure to hit your g spot over and over as he resumes his rhythm.

“Good girl… Taking me so well,” he growls lowly against your neck, planting hungry kisses along your nape. Where he has already marked, he begins another trail of bruises down your neck, each love bite decorating your skin in a way that satiates his possessive nature.

“S-So close, Mingi…” You whimper into the door, meeting his thrusts with your own sloppy movements. You can feel the tension coiling within your belly as he jerks into you. Your cunt is twitching wildly around his shaft, encouraging his cock with the squeeze of your folds around him.

“You gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna fall apart on this big dick?” Languid kisses follow up your ear, and his words are igniting you, fueling the flame that is your orgasm. You barely process the hand that has slipped from your ass and now lays between your legs, fingers rubbing wet and slick against your throbbing clit.

The digits that play around your button have you chanting Mingi’s name in an endless hymn, mindlessly moaning as his tempo grows erratic. He knows that you're almost there, he can feel the way your cunt is clenching him so tightly.

“Come on, pretty girl. Come for me.” The way his fingers pinch at your clit and how he fucks himself into you with reckless abandon causes you to orgasm fast and hard. Your eyes are fluttering shut and you see stars, reaching the crescendo that is your orgasm. Your pussy is spasming around him when you come, your hips weakly pushing back against his thrusts to ride your high.

With your writhing and convulsions gripping his cock, it doesn't take him long to reach his own orgasm as he chases for release. He is sloppy, frenzied and desperate as he hammers into you, pace only stuttering as he begins to spill rope after rope of his hot cum into you. He peaks with a loud groan, hands finding their way back to your ass to grip at the mounds of flesh before his movements slow to a lazy grind.

You feel him pull out of you once he's had his fill, and it has you whimpering softly as you try to ignore the feeling of his cum seeping out of you. He is huffing heavily when he turns you around to face him, hands cupping your cheeks. Mingi peppers kisses lovingly all over you before pressing his lips to yours sweetly.

“God, I love you, babe… Let's get you cleaned up.”

“I love you too, Min.”

The people that await you outside of the dressing room are not particularly pleased as the two of you step from the door, both red with embarrassment. Bowing your head and grasping Mingi’s hand, you both flee toward the room that ATEEZ occupies. It doesn’t take long to reunite with the rest of the group, but entering the vicinity, the room is silent and the tension is palpable. The resident captain seems to be fuming near the back, motioning for Mingi to come to him before he begins to scold the latter. You definitely don’t miss the scalding glare he shoots your way too.

Shuffling awkwardly you turn to face the others, and you can see that Yunho’s ears are red as he refuses to meet your eyes. You can't help but to smile sheepishly. The rest of the group seems to be idling around, either playing on their phones or chatting together quietly. Similarly, some of them barely glance to you while others offer a shy wave in greeting. It's clear to you that the rest of the members and some staff weren’t exempt from hearing your loud ass shenanigans. You knew that you and Mingi would get reprimanded for it later, but at least you got some killer sex out of it.

Amongst Hongjoong’s bickering and Mingi’s apologies, it is San who stands from the couch and clears his throat as he casually saunters over to you. An arm is thrown around your shoulder as he ducks his head down close to yours.

You see Mingi’s head whip over to your direction. San smirks.

“So, I take it the plan worked?”

You only grin back at him.

[darlingdarkly]

New Year, New You Part 2

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!reader

Personal Trainer AU

Just over 3.5k words

CW: dubcon!, dark fic, dark content, obsessive behavior, dirty talk, explicit language, E rated, 18+, mature themes

Part 1, 3

You enter the building, it’s noisy and busy in the lobby. Coming up to the kiosk you sign in and a new bracelet is spit out at you. You put it around your wrist and step past the lobby and further into the building. Sitting alone at a table in the smoothie alcove is Johnny and when he sees you his face lights up. You told yourself the night before, somewhere between coming down from your Johnny fueled orgasm and the drifts of your dreams that the first day was a fluke.

They’re all trained like this, to seem super bubbly and interested in you. It’s a ploy, a sales tactic, it’s to get you back in the door, have you pay that membership fee so you’ll be the center of attention of this super attractive, highly magnetizing flytrap. If you were a man there’d be an extremely fit, ultra flirty woman counterpart to come over and hyperfixate on you until you caved and bought a membership for the hopes of getting your hands in that tight little sports bra and the gym raked in another sucker.

They probably pay them extra too, some kind of bonus or sales commission for the trainer who racked up the most membership fees that month. Johnny was just trying to meet his quota and you were fresh meat. You ignored the empty pit that had formed at the center of your chest with this epiphany and told yourself you weren’t even mad about it. It was a ruse, clear and simple but what they didn’t know was that they weren’t gonna make a sucker out of you, that was for sure.

If Johnny was gonna use you, so be it. The joke was on him, he’s gonna put all this time into you and when your two weeks were up you’d be gone. The first thing he said to you was “Homework?” With his hand out, like there was some physical object you were meant to place in his hand. You were pretty sure he had given you a few sets of exercises to do, physical activities. Not paperwork. “Yeah, I did it.”

He looked up at you, head tilted like a dog. “Proof.” You laughed, a trill little nervous sound. What could you possibly have to be nervous about? Pleasing him? Being in some sort of trouble with this man you just met yesterday? But you couldn’t exactly shake the feeling. “I… I don’t.. have proof. But I did it.”

He sighs and gestures for you to sit down. You pull the chair out and sit across from him and he leans forward muscular arms on display as they rest across the tabletop. “I’ll let it go this time, since ye didn’t know but when I assign ye homework I expect proof.” You take your gym bag strap off your shoulder and set it down beside you. “Proof like a log book? Or something?”

The grin that grows on his face is gorgeous but condescending. “Can cheat a log book can’t ya hen? No. I need video evidence.” Your jaw drops a little. “You want me to videotape it?” He nods and smiles. You consider this, it’s a little strange, but you guess you can do that, prop your phone up and videotape your evening workout assignments. “Ok.”

He sits back in his chair and you relax. You go to get up and he adds. “One more thing, hen.” You stop and sit back down in the chair. “Got a few questions before we start today and I want ye tae be as honest as ye can. Can ye do that fer me?” This sets you a bit on edge but you nod in agreement.

The questions start out basic and non intrusive. Have you ever worked out before? Ever worked with a personal trainer before? Then they grow a bit more personal. What kind of home do you live in? Do you have any family living with you? A boyfriend or husband? Roommates? You answer them slowly but honestly.

Then the questions take on a more medical standpoint. Do you have any allergies? Any health problems he should know about? Are you on birth control or IUD? Are you sexually active? You look around to see if anyone is paying attention to your conversation but it seems not to be the case. Your mind is trying to process an answer to that last question but before you even can he looks up from where he’s been recording your answers in his phone and asks “When’s the last time you orgasmed?”

You're dead quiet. Did he just ask you that? Your ears must be deceiving you. “I’m sorry?” He doesn’t even smile, just asks you again. “Orgasm. When was your last orgasm.” You cough at the utter vulgarity of it. “None of your business.” He chides you, like you’re a child. “Nothing to be ashamed of, lass. I’m yer personal trainer.” He says it like it holds the same weight as being your physician.

When you still don't answer he begins to explain. “Yer body lass, is a very particular beast. It needs balance. A very carefully curated balance of nutrition, regular exercise, mental and emotional inputs, creative and productive outlets, and a series of stress and tension releases, among other things. As yer personal trainer it is my job tae make sure yer body is in balance and yer living as healthy and fit as I possibly can. Yer sexual health is as important as yer mental and physical health, and I’d even go as far as to argue it’s an integral part of an adult’s mental well-being and stability. We’re both adults here lass, so I’ll ask ye again. When’s the last time you had some real resease?”

Your mouth is dry, and as you sat there and listened to him you felt a little ashamed of yourself, thinking he was being lewd by asking you these, on the surface, seemingly crass questions when in reality he was just doing his job. Trying to be to the best of his ability as attentive to your needs and as thorough at his job as he could. You felt suddenly compelled to apologize for being perhaps rash and accusatory, jumping too quickly to conclusions.

Your next instinctual thought is the one you jump on, pure honesty and your cheeks flare with heat as you say it. “Last night.” And while you had been honest to try and save some sort of face you come to immediately regret your decision as the professional, serious demeanor he’d donned to pry the answer from your lips drops. His eyes are shiny devious lights, lips turning upwards at the very corners, bright white predatory teeth flashing at you from the parted lips, wolfish in their grin. He leans forward and you feel your heart beating louder in your chest as his eyes hold yours, locked and daring, his hands disappear from the tabletop.

When he speaks next his voice is fundamentally different, almost like you’re speaking to a different man. His voice is gruff, tone a whole octave lower as he growls out from his chest in a voice just loud enough to float to your ears. “Dirty girl. What were ye thinking about hmm? Did ye think about me while ye touched that pretty little pussy?” He must see the way you feel reflected across your features because his eyes darken and he continues on.

“Aye. It was me wasn’t it. What’d ye think about me doin’ tae ye. Did ye think about mah fat cock in that tight little cunt? Bendin’ ye over and sliding in til’ I’m buried to the hilt?” You felt the palm of his hand glide up over the curve of your knee, his fingers wrapping around the width of your lower thighs as they snaked up your leg while he poured filth into your ears.

“Or did I have ye on yer back, legs spread nice and wide while I feasted in the valley of yer thighs til’ yer eyes rolled back and ye were scremin’ mah name tae the heavens?” Your jaw dropped of its own accord and he smirked, fingers squeezing the meat of your leg as he held you captive with his eyes.

“Aye that’s it then.” Your mouth closes and opens like a gaping fish as you try to get a grip of the situation and stutter some kind of refusal. Some kind of response that will make you regain control of the conversation but the sudden change of direction, the pure whiplash of it puts you at a loss for words. All you seem capable of doing is yammering out meaningless syllables and the starts of words. “You- I didn’t- Wait-“

But he’s not done and he silences you as his fingers brush the hem of your sweats. The shudder that runs up your spine is violent and makes you twist in your seat, unintentionally bucking into his touch.

“Nothin’ tae be ashamed of hen, I thought of ye too last night. Fist wrapped around mah cock as I thought of that sweet wet little gob of yers. How pretty ye’d look on all fours fer me. We’re gonna have a lot of fun, me n’ you.”

With that he stands, hand removed from your leg and you didn’t miss him quickly adjusting the growing tent in his gym shorts as he rose. He leans over the table and your head cranes back as he leans in close. “Go get changed. I’ll see ye in the gym, it’s time for our first session.”

You finally manage to collect yourself in the girls locker room. Luckily it’s mostly empty as you slide your sweats off to find your panties ruined. How had it gone so sideways? You came in determined to outplay him and instead you find yourself wet and hanging onto every single one of his words like some kind of filthy slut. That’s the only word for it, you feel like a filthy little slut. Just the pure audacity of him, to speak to you in the most vile and shameless way, had you soaked.

It was the thought of him, thick cock in hand, stroking it with slow languid strokes as he dreams of you on his knees in front him, your hand replacing his, the look of pure ecstasy in his eyes as he watches you take him down your throat for the first time, bobbing your head up and down his- STOP. This is not helping. This is exactly what he wants. But it doesn’t make it easy to push the fantasy from the forefront of your mind (because actually getting yourself to stop imagining it is impossible).

You finish dressing, zip up your gym bag, place it in the locker and leave as you watch the red light replace the green. He’s waiting for you in the open gym by the free weights and when he sees you there’s a content little smile on his face, like he wasn’t just wrecking your entire train of thought with nothing more than dirty words and a hand trialing up your thigh minutes ago.

You get the first word in, you know it’s the only way you’ll be able to control the conversation, if he speaks your whole argument may crumble to dust before you’ve gotten your point across. “We need to set some boundaries. You can’t just speak to me that way. It’s inappropriate and unprofessional and I won’t stand for it.”

To your surprise he just smiles and agrees, which deflates your sails completely. But you showing up after yesterday and staying for the session even after the “inappropriate and unprofessional” talk when you arrived was all he really needed to know. He’ll let you tire yourself out like a horse with bit in its mouth for the first time. Wild horses must be broken.

“If we’re going to do this then I want you to treat me with respect and decency. Do we have an agreement?” He stands there with his arms crossed over his chest and a neutral expression on his face, and the pause he leaves between your demands and his answer makes you feel a little like a child throwing a tantrum. “Aye, lass. I’ll treat ye with all the decency and respect ye deserve. Are ye ready to get started now?”

You nod and he motions you over to a matted area of the room, free of weights and other objects so you can stretch. Something you think would go like him demonstrating and then you imitating while giving you verbal pointers, but no. It actually means he shows you once and then makes you imitate it and if it’s not exactly how he did it he comes over to you and rearranges you.

Hands all over your body pushing down on your lower back for proper push-ups, hands gliding up your legs all the way to the undersides of your ass cheeks to straighten your legs for proper toe touches, he’s sitting on your feet for your sits ups, claiming your feet are wobbling too much, leans in way too far while you’re coming up so you’re face to face when you do and you catch him several times staring at your lips, his own slightly parted, even having to tell him you’ve done your last set of ten when he was supposed to be keeping count.

When you’ve finished what he calls your warm up he explains the next steps in a proper session. “I wanna work on yer flexibility. We’re gonna have ye doin’ full on splits by the time done with ye.” And he’s smiling and laughing like it’s some sort of secret joke between the two of you.

You sit on the mat, legs spread out before you in a comfortable V. Slowly he begins to spread your legs wider and wider. They come to a natural stop and he gets between them, using those toned strong arms to push past their limitations. Your brow furrows as the burn in your hips intensifies. “Johnny, s’too much.” But he keeps going, pushing on your inner calves, stretching them wider. You roll onto your back and think that he’ll stop but he doesn’t, just climbs over top of you and continues to push. His crotch presses up against yours as he continues to split you. “Johnny!”

“Just a wee bit more, lass. You can do it. Doin’ so good fer me.” And you hate the way the praise sinks into your skin and soothes you. He’s stopped pushing, just holds your legs at this shockingly obtuse angle you never knew you were capable of achieving. You’re whining and whimpering, the ache and burn of your legs fills your mind, all encompassing and excruciating, you can feel tears forming at your waterline, threatening to spill. “Johnny, please!” And he finally relents, slowly releasing the tension on your thighs until you’re breathing heavily and lying limp.

You have time later, at home in bed recounting the events of the day, to imagine the absolutely scandalous sight the pair of you must have made. Your back on the mat, Johnny practically mounting you on the floor of the open gym as he spreads your legs wider and wider while you whimper and whine as cries of his name and “it’s too much” fall from your lips. It’s enough to make your face heat with embarrassment but also make you extremely wet.

He doesn’t move, still slotted obscenely in the space between your thighs, your legs wrapped loosely around his waist as he rubs soothing circles into your hips. The burn in your legs is slowly ebbing to a dull throb and as you lie there you wonder just what you’ve gotten yourself into but he doesn’t let you marinate in your thoughts for long as he rises and extends a hand to help you up.

What follows is him shuffling you around to numerous machines you’d have been too shy and un-knowledgeable about to try on your own, instructing you how to properly use them, the muscle groups they worked on, and setting your weights and reps for. He was very adamant about the rule of three. For the first session it was important to establish a baseline to follow, a minimum amount of each exercise that you were fully capable of carrying out. You could push your limits later but for now he wanted at least three sets of each activity.

And through it all you found that you were actually learning a fair amount about exercising that before seemed daunting and out of reach. You thought that maybe, with his help, you’d actually be able to accomplish some real tangible goals, results you could see. He finished off where the whole journey began, you on the treadmill, he set you off on a jog and spoke to you as you began to move.

“I’ve got some things tae handle, hen. I want ye tae try and keep jogging the whole time I’m gone. Do ye think ye can do that fer me?” You nod, and he walks up to the side of the machine, standing there until you look over and catch his piercing blue eyes. “Yer not just cheating yerself when you slack off, yer cheating me as well and trust me I’ll ken if ye do. I always get what I’m owed, bonnie.”

The threat in his tone chills you but he smiles as he says it and you wonder just what sort of consequences might come with a thing like that. You decide then that you’re not quite ready to find out and with that he leaves you to it.

He’s not gone long. Ten minutes tops and while you’re tired and had slowed to a lighter jog at times you know you had done as he asked and was sort of glad with what you’d been able to manage. He gets you to stop and congratulates you on a fine first session. Even pulls you in for a hug, despite the sweat that’s collected on your skin. It's longer than you’d have liked but at least he’s not outwardly groping you.

He takes you down to the smoothie alcove, orders you a smoothie and has you sit down. You take his offer immediately, glad to be momentarily off your feet. He brings you your drink and lifts one of your legs, unlacing your sneaker and pulling your sock off. “Johnny what are you doing?” He placed your shoe and sock on the floor by your chair and begins rubbing your foot. “Dinnae want ye tae be too sore to workout tomorrow. The first session can be very taxing on the body. Build up of lactic acid in yer muscles and ye’ll be cryin’ tae me tomorrow about why ye cannae come in. Cannae have that now can we?”

You sit forward as much as you can with your foot in his hand. “Actually I need to talk to you about that, I can’t come in tomorrow, I’ve got a huge work thing and I’ll be staying late to help prep the presentation for it.” He hums and switches feet, getting your sock and shoe off before he answers. “Ye can still do yer homework and send it in, I’ll give ye my number. I wanna see the same thing ye did last night on video this time and I wanna see ye practice yer stretches, ye ken?”

You nod in understanding and he begins working up your leg towards your calves, you bite back a moan at the painful but magical sensation. “And I wanna know about these things ahead of time. I’m a flexible man bonnie but I need tae fit these kinds of changes in yer schedule in advance.” You say you understand and even thank him for being so understanding, which brings a huge cheeky grin to his face.

He gets behind you and massages your shoulders as you finish your drink and the feeling of his warm hands on your shoulders and back have you on an erotic edge that you feel uncomfortable with in such an open setting. You quickly finish the last of the smoothie and rise from your seat. After you’ve said your goodbyes and he’d given you a card with his number on it you head for the locker room and begin undressing. You unlock your locker to find your gym bag unzipped and open.

It gives you pause, you’re almost certain you did not leave it this way, you’ve always had the habit of rezipping your gym bag after changing. You quickly rummage through it but find nothing missing. Phone, keys, wallet. Everything was there. You shake it off and label it as a mistake. You must have left it unzipped when you were changing and still flustered from your first little chat. Swinging the bag over your shoulder you leave the locker room and head home, waving to Johnny on your way out the door.

[cacoetheswriting]

celebrity skin. (part two)

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 6.5k summary: your night with eddie continues to haunt you. and now you have to work together — what could go wrong?

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: smut with a plot, oral (fem receiving), aftercare, suggestive & mature themes, other mentions of sex (nothing graphic), adult language, use of pet names, mutual pining, emotional hurt / comfort, topics of guilt / regret — if i missed anything, pls let me know!

psa: images used in the header don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also described vaguely in the story, only that she’s a little shorter than eddie.

celebrity skin. masterlist

Eddie Munson hurt your feelings.

Granted, you were just as much to blame. Rockstars are always nothing but trouble and you knew that when you jumped into bed with him.

‘Cause why would Eddie Munson be any different from all the other musicians you’d slept with in the past? He gave you no reason to think otherwise. He never promised you anything.

Letting him occupy your heart and mind after only one night together was your own damn fault, though it was easier to blame him. And you could make a list of excuses, reasons as to why you did what you did, but it really came down to one simple thing: Eddie seemed… different. Almost as if he also wanted to continue this past some single fling.

You asked to stay over. He immediately agreed.

Why? If he was only going to say the night meant nothing to him, why did he agree? Why did he pull you under the silk covers and wrap his arm around your bare shoulder, placing a gentle kiss to your crown? Why did he hold your hand close to his heart, allowing you to feel his heartbeat as he opened up about his past? Why did he let you trace your fingers along his scars?

If it was just about having sex with you, why did Eddie act like he cared what you thought of him? He could have kicked you out the second you came down to earth following your orgasm, not kiss you again with a feverness that made you believe he was silently begging for more — which foolishly, you gave him.

Then you didn’t call immediately, like you said you would. Again, only you were to blame here, but in your own defence, you didn’t think he’d act so coldly towards you. It was just one delayed phone call and he knew better than anyone how plans often change when you’re in the limelight.

Proof was in the pudding. Eddie didn’t like you nearly as much as he led you to believe he did — as much as you liked him. 

And it was fucking foolish of you to fall for him the way you did. Holly thought so too. She actually had a lot of opinions after you told her why you bailed on her at the party.

“Boys are all the same,” she stated while applying the finishing touches to your makeup. “They have one thing on their mind and when they get it, no matter how sweet they act towards you, you’re unfortunately disposable.”

“Eddie doesn’t seem like that,” you defended, which only caused Holly to roll her eyes.

“Hate to be the one to break this to you, but Eddie Munson is exactly that type of guy.”

The cherry on top of this godforsaken mess was your Nana who somehow caught wind of your salacious activities with the Corroded Coffin frontman. She confronted you at her charity luncheon of all places and was actually the main reason you had called him with such a delay, meaning she was also partially to blame for how things turned out in the end.

“You’re not to go anywhere near that boy again,” it almost sounded like a threat. “He’s no good for you or your image. Can you imagine the news? America’s sweetheart canoodling with a devil worshipper. You would be ruined.”

“He’s not a devil worshipper—”

“I don’t want to hear you defending him,” your Nana interjected and looked around, probably to make sure no one was listening in on the conversation. “Honey, I’m just trying to protect you. You’re still a little young to understand just how long our mistakes can follow us around for.”

“Right,” you scoffed, “But I guess you have experience in this area.” And with that you walked away. She didn’t follow.

A few days later, after your brief conversation with Eddie, you showed up at her apartment with tears in your eyes, repeating how she was right — not necessarily the devil worship stuff, just the “not being good for you” piece.

Mid-September 1992, Eddie was supposed to be in New York with his band to perform on Saturday Night Live. He told you that in between trailing kisses down your jawline: “Just in case it’s hard for us to find time to see together,” where his exact words, “This one is a guarantee.”.

You half-debated going to the after party. It wouldn’t be hard to get your name on the guest list, just one simple call from your management team. You even knew what you could wear. Chanel had sent you this gorgeous little black blazer-dress from their Fall 1991 collection, gold buttons at the front creating a v-neck that perfectly accentuated your chest. It was tame enough to keep in style with your image, but bold enough to hail the attention of the Corroded Coffin frontman.

As you stared at the dress however, you knew going would be a mistake. He’d likely view it as an act of despair and the last thing you wanted to do is give him any more power in this situation. So you opted to watch the show from the comfort of your own sofa. Your younger sister Valentine, named after the most romantic day of the year (according to your parents), Val for short, came over to watch with you.

Turns out Val is a big Corroded Coffin fan. Luckily, she remains blissfully unaware of what had gone down between you and the lead singer of her favourite band.

Val ended up being the person who pushed you to do the feature on Corroded Coffin’s upcoming single. She is the person who actually got you to listen to the demo in the first place.

The opportunity first presented itself around January of 1993. After weeks of trying to forget about Eddie Munson, and the way his touch made you feel, your team flushed all that hard work down the toilet in one short meeting. They presented an idea you really wanted no part of — a quick feature that was gonna cost nothing, but make you (and them) five times as much, if not more.

Your initial reaction was a plain and simple no. You had brushed it off as their music not being within your wheelhouse and for a second, they agreed. Only Val had come to the meeting with you. She was only supposed to be a silent observer and take notes for her Business Management module. Of course, she didn’t listen.

“Oh my god! Your voice blended with Eddie Munson’s would make for an automatic hit,” she exclaimed and you swore then you were going to kill her. 

“Their sound is just not my thing,” you explained calmly.

“At least listen to the demo before you make any final decisions,” Val reasoned, earning herself nods and yeses from your management team.

Losing the battle, you made your way to the nearest empty recording room with the CD in hand. Knowing this was already hard enough, you asked to go alone. Val was the only one to put up any sort of fight, but older sister rules and she quickly changed her tune.

When the first few notes began to play through the speakers, you felt gratified because the song was totally opposite of what your fanbase enjoyed — just like you rationalised. However, then the melody slowed down. The heavy guitar from the intro was instead replaced by a more acoustic sound, and the loud drums, reduced to a simple beat. They were a mere decoration to the main event. Eddie and his hypnotic vocals.

“Honestly, you got me fallin’ to my knees It’s like ecstasy, this feelin’ inside of me Let’s call it honesty

You’re a devil in disguise No, that’s what I want you to be ‘Cause in reality, hon’, you’re a hypnotic dream An angel for sure To a non-believer like me Oh honesty, what have you done to me, honestly”

You’re not sure at which point of listening to the demo you started to cry, but you did. The tears are slow, trailing down your cheeks as you clutch the empty CD case tight to your chest.

Was it egotistical to think he’d written this song about you? Most definitely. Yet the sheer emotion in Eddie’s voice, not to even mention the lyrics themselves, made it quite hard to say otherwise.

“Why do they want me?” You asked once you had returned to the room, after listening to the demo three times in a row and taking an additional ten minutes to compose yourself. “They can have any female singer on this, why me?”

“The request came from someone above the band.”

It wasn’t the answer you had secretly hoped for, but you agreed to do the feature nonetheless. There was no denying, the track had huge hit potential, especially as a duet. And Val was right, your vocals mixed with Eddie’s were going to make history. Your reasons for saying yes, however, were a little different. You really just needed to be a hundred percent sure Eddie wrote this song about you.

March 1993 and the day you’d been stressing about since you agreed to do the song had finally arrived.

You had put on the most comfortable yet sexy outfit you could find and done your makeup differently to what Eddie would have seen you in. sprayed on some rose-scented perfume and plastered on a big smile, the fakest sincere shit you had become quite the expert at over the years — your trademark.

The band's manager, Marianne, greeted you on arrival. Holly and your bodyguard, Hank, had come with you to the recording session. You asked Holly to be there as emotional support and Hank was there just to get his paycheck. Either way, you were quite glad not to be facing this alone.

Everything’s fine, you told yourself as you followed Marianne across the building and to a studio where the producer and a handful of sound technicians were waiting for you. Finn, Jane, Kit, and Gavin — in no particular order of importance, their own words. Happy to be working with you, can’t wait to make some magic, big fans of your work, etc. You just smiled. Then Marianne opened the door to the room behind the sound-proof glass and a shiver ran down your spine once you walked through.

Although you did your best to not look his way, Eddie’s presence was instantly known to your senses. As though no one else was ever here, all you could feel was his eyes on you and it caused your heart to rattle inside your ribcage. The sheer fact of being in the same room as him again, after all this time apart, was infuriating yet exciting at the same time. You wondered what he was thinking, was he happy to see you? Surprised? Annoyed?

Holly was on your heels, saying her charming hello’s to everyone you had just introduced yourself to. She actually met Jeff at Eddie’s party so the two of them hugged like old pals and within a split-second, they were off to the side, catching up. You lost your protector quite possibly at the worst time.

“And our frontman, Eddie Munson.” Marianne introduced, one hand hovering over your back while the other extended in the direction of the curly-haired man,

You focused your attention on her arm, refusing to look up and meet Eddie’s chocolate gaze. From the corner of your eyes, you could see as he wiped his palms on the pleather of his pants and held out his right hand in your direction. You glanced at it briefly, the smile on your face faltering.

Suddenly, he was right there. Right at your fingertips. Just take his hand, you thought to yourself, it’s not that big a deal, just take his hand and look at him.

“We’ve met before,” you said with little to no emotion, and without meeting his gaze, then quickly turned to Marianne. “Should we just get started? I listened to the song, I have no notes, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

Marianne seemed to be taken aback by your abrupt change in attitude. She glanced at Eddie then back at you. “Uhm, yeah, sure. Of course. Right this way.”

The two of you silently left Eddie’s side, though you continued to feel his eyes burning into your frame. This whole situation was honestly nauseating. Not only were you forced to face the memories of this one magical night you shared with the famous rockstar, you were also about to sing a duet together, a song he most likely wrote about said night. All while pretending you don’t care about him or the night in question.

Marianne propped you in front of a microphone and handed you a set of headphones and shortly after the band had taken their places. You glanced across the room at Holly who gave you an encouraging thumbs up before hurrying out to re-join Finn, Jane, Kit, Gavin, and your bodyguard, Hank.

Your heart was hammering inside your chest. This was so beyond fucked, you almost wished it wasn’t too late to back out. The only thing making this just a little bit worth it was Eddie’s clear discomfort. He was the last to take his place at the microphone placed only a feet away from yours, his movements reluctant. You still refused to look at him, focusing instead on the carpet between your feet, hands now on your hips.

“You know what I’m gonna say,” Marianne’s voice echoed through the room, “The day I don’t say it though is gonna be the day we make a shit piece of art so, here goes, good luck and have fun.”

An unsettling silence filled the air as soon as she closed the door behind her. 

You weren’t sure how their band sessions really went, who took the lead and who followed. You hoped someone would speak so you wouldn’t be the first, but no one did. Eddie’s eyes were burning into the side of your head. At this point you were starting to think the universe was playing some sick joke on you. So you glanced upwards, first behind the glass to where you located Holly who gave you another thumbs up, and then you tilted your head in the direction of the man next to you.

You exhaled softly and leaned in closer to the microphone before saying, “Honesty, take one.”

-

Eddie had thought about you every single day since that fateful night in August. The memory of you, your smile, the colour of your eyes, how you felt to the touch, the pretty sounds you made just for him, it had occupied his mind permanently. And he tried to get over you, really, but nothing seemed to do the trick. Not the drinking, not the weed, not losing himself in music, not even hooking up with strangers after the bands’ shows.

He was a goner, yet too fucking stubborn to call or try contact you in any way.

But now here you are, a mere arms-length away, and you’re singing the song he wrote about you, harmonising with little to no effort as you stare right into his big eyes. Eddie is staring back at you, holding your gaze ‘cause he’s afraid if he’d look away, you’d never look at him again. He wants to know what you’re thinking. He’s trying to decipher the angry sadness behind your eyes. Not like he deserves anything from you, but he wants to know how you’ve been. Most importantly, he wants to know if you even like the song?

“Okay,” Marianne pops her head in as the track ends, “Let’s break for lunch.”

Everyone starts to gather whatever they might need for the next hour — bag, bottled water, smokes — before following Marianne out of the recording studio. You’re still staring at Eddie and he’s thinking now’s his chance to talk to you. However, just as he’s about to open his mouth to start perhaps the most awkward conversation, you drop his gaze and hurry out the door.

“Shit,” the curly-haired rockstar curses under his breath then proceeds to follow you down the long hallway until you disappear into the ladies toilets. “Shit,” Eddie swears again as the door closes in front of his face. He runs a hand through his locks, debating whether he should continue his chase, though, eventually, he decides going inside would be a total breach of privacy. Instead, he leans across from the entrance, lights a cigarette, and waits. You’re bound to return at some point and when you do, he’s going to be here and you would have to talk to him.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait long.

The door opens slowly and you emerge, wiping your hands on your denim skirt. Attention solely on fixing your outfit, it takes you a second to realise Eddie’s there ‘cause honestly you didn’t even know he followed you. As you take a step forward and his worn-out converse sneakers come into view, you swallow.

Closing your eyes momentarily, a desperate attempt at some kind of composure in this situation. Ultimately, there’s no use in continuing this childish game of cat and mouse so you gaze upon him.

“Hi Eddie,” you say with all the confidence you can muster.

He exhales a puff of smoke, then replies, “Hey, sweetheart.”

Your heart aches at the moniker and you can’t help but wonder if it’s a nickname solely reserved for you, or if he goes around calling everybody he sleeps with. After all, with the way things turned out to be, you were simply a number on his undoubtedly long list of conquests. You weren’t special.

“It’s nice to see you,” Eddie admits, though his words only twist the imaginary dagger he had jabbed into your heart. “You look… great.”

This makes you roll your eyes. Truthfully, you didn’t have high expectations for your first conversation with the Corroded Coffin frontman, but there was something about him casually flirting as if nothing had happened, that made your blood boil.

“Fuck you, Eddie.”

He’s taken aback by your words and the harshness behind them. Obviously he messed up, treated you with an indifference no one deserves to experience, especially someone with a heart as pure as yours. To hear you say that though, mixed with the pure agony behind your eyes, it makes him feel sick.

About to walk away, you turn on your heel. Eddie puts out the half-finished cigarette against the wall, letting the bud drop to the floor, and reaches out to grab your arm. Surprisingly, you don’t flinch at his touch, not at first anyway, which gives him enough time to step in front of you and lift his hands to cup your cheeks.

“Sweetheart…” Eddie begins in a whisper, thumbs caressing along your cheekbones. Your skin is softer than he remembers and it only makes his heart ache more, mournful for the time lost.

“Let me go,” you plead quietly and shake your head, fingers attaching themselves to his wrists, digging at the dips in his knuckles and the valleys of space where his hold met yours, in an attempt to separate the two of you.

Eddie doesn’t budge. He’s stood firm as you claw at him, trying to break free from his grasp. If anything, he inclines closer and in the space of a single heartbeat, you can feel his hot breath as he dips his head to your level, forcing you to meet his gaze. There’s a sense of despair behind his brown eyes and you almost stop fighting.

Almost.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Okay? Is that what you wanna hear?”

His words, although an apology, didn’t sound like one. To you, it seemed like Eddie wasn’t actually sorry for his actions, he just hated the fact that you were giving him the cold shoulder. He wanted to be in your good graces not ‘cause your night meant something to him, but because he had a bruised ego. A cruel joke really. 

So you clear your throat and call on the only person guaranteed to get you away from his situation.

“Hank,” there’s very little power behind your voice and Eddie furrows his brows a little confused at first, but then you move your head to the best of your current ability past Eddie’s shoulder and say his name louder, “Hank!”

“Please—”

“Hank!”

Eddie drops his hold on you then and runs a hand down his face as you take a single step forward, arm brushing against his a little too steadily to be called an accident. Seconds pass and neither of you moves, each staring in a separate direction while your bodies continue to press together. Eddie extends his fingers. You feel the metal of his rings and the air hitches in your throat.

How come one second you cannot wait to get away from him and the next you’re aching for his touch? One second you’re pushing him away and the next your fingers are intertwining themselves with his. It was fucking messed up, hating him yet caring for him at the same time, and you didn’t want to feel this way anymore.

When your army-veteran bodyguard appears at the end of the hall, you snatch your hand away from Eddie’s grasp and plaster a fake smile on your face.

“Everything okay, miss?” Hank asks, glancing between the two of you.

“Can you call the car? I’m not feeling well.”

He nods. “Right away.” Then disappears just as fast as he rushed to your aid. 

You’re once again left alone with Eddie. Only this time, the Corroded Coffin frontman makes no attempt to reach out for you. Instead, he slides his hands in the pocket of his jacket and tilts his head in your direction. You can see him from the corner of your eyes and it takes all the strength you have to not look his way.

“I am sorry,” he says in a defeated tone, “Whether you choose to believe me or not.”

With that, he walks away.

-

The world hadn’t stopped spinning since your earlier interaction with the Corroded Coffin frontman.

You felt sick while recounting the moment on loop. The sad look in his eyes, the defeated sound of his voice. His body language was screaming I wanna be closer to you, unfortunately, you couldn’t figure out if he was being sincere, if this whole situation really weighed on him as deeply as it did you.

Holly had berated you for even indulging in a conversation with him, to which you huffed and puffed ‘cause she’s the one who left you alone in the first place for “not-a-date” lunch with Jeff.

“Hope you at least got some,” you tease, rummaging through your half-unpacked suitcase for the box of smokes you carefully hid in there, for emergency situations only.

Holly laughs from her spot on the sofa. You can’t see her face, but you can tell she’s smiling. “Shut the fuck up,” she deflects with a giggle, “We went for some friendly burgers. I wasn’t looking for anything else.”

“Was Jeff?” You quip, placing a cigarette between your lips and reaching for the ashtray. You carry the item towards one of the hotel windows before lighting the tip, slowly inhaling.

“You’re unbearable, you know that?” Holly jests, shifting in her spot to look at you. “Just ‘cause you’re sexually frustrated.”

You smirk, exhaling some smoke. “What gave you that idea?”

Holly raises a brow, an amused look spread across her face, and points to the cigarette you’re holding onto. Before she can make her point of you only smoking when you’re stressed or craving some action — and in this instance, it’s clearly both — there’s a knock on the door. The two of you glance in its direction then back at each other.

“Where you expecting—”

“No,” you answer before Holly can finish her question, “You?”

She shakes her head in response. There’s another knock, louder this time. You quickly put the cigarette out and waved the curtain around, your best attempt to somewhat ventilate just in case this was a surprise visit from your Nana who, despite being a heavy smoker herself, would kill you for indulging in the cancer sticks.

While you spray some perfume on, Holly walks towards the door. She shoots you one last glance, making sure you were presentable for whoever was on the other side of that door, then opens to reveal someone you both were least expecting.

Eddie fucking Munson.

“Oh,” he breathes, brows up, “I didn’t think—”

“What are you doing here, Munson?” Holly interrupts, holding onto the door so he knew he wasn’t welcome inside.

“Shit, if you just let me finish.” Eddie grumbles back. “I didn’t think anyone else would be here. I came to see her.” He looks at you then and your heart twists the second your eyes meet his.

Holly tilts her head in your direction and a sigh escapes her lips. There’s a reason she’s your closest friend. She can read you like a book and the expression on your face right now, gaze not leaving Eddie’s even for a second, is telling her to let the rockstar in — whether she agrees with that or not. 

So she drops her arm and pushes the door wider before stepping to the side. Eddie looks at her then back at you. He walks inside, not wanting to waste this opportunity since he didn’t know how long it would last, as Holly approaches you. The girl places her hands on your cheeks, forcing you to focus on her just for a moment.

“If you need me, I’m right next door, ‘kay?” Holly whispers and you nod. “Shout, scream, do whatever. I’ll come runnin’. I’m here for you, this time.”

“Thanks, honey.”

“Always,” Holly affirms then lets go of you. She straightens her top before turning around and walking back to where Eddie stood with his hands in his pockets. She sizes up the curly-haired man, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, she shuts the door with a timid bang.

Silence settles in the air. Once again, it’s just you and Eddie staring at one another with immense longing yet sadness. Only, unlike earlier today, you don’t want to run away.

There are approximately three pieces of furniture between the two of you and the longer he continues to look at you with his doe-eyes, you’re calculating how exactly to manoeuvre around them to hug him, putting an end to this entire charade.

Something is still holding you back, however.

“What are you doing here, Eddie?”

He swallows and proceeds to hesitantly walk towards you, past the sofas you were debating jumping over mere seconds ago. He stops about an arms-length away, careful not to totally invade your personal space in fear of you pulling away again. Instead, he leans against the back of one of the couches and tilts his head to the side.

“What do you think of my song?”

You furrow your brows. “What?”

“Do you like it?” Eddie asks, but doesn’t give you enough time to answer, “I’m thinking you do since you agreed to be on it, but then again maybe you don’t and your reason for doing the feature is to mess with my fucking head.” His fingers are at his temple, pointing to emphasise his words.

There’s an ache in your chest. “You really think that low of me?”

Eddie’s face falls at the deflated tone of your voice and he’s cursing himself for hurting your feelings again. He didn’t mean to. Word vomit, is how his uncle Wayne described it back when Eddie was still living in Hawkins, it’s as though Eddie’s mouth and brain didn’t connect.

He sighs, running a hand through his locks. “I gotta get something off my chest, just in case you kick me out and we never get a chance another to talk alone,” he says then takes in a deep breath, “You probably don’t wanna hear this, and you probably won’t even believe me, but I genuinely cannot stop thinking about you.”

Your face softens at his confession, though you remain in place, arms crossed.

Eddie continues. “And I’ve never experienced that with anyone. I certainly didn’t expect to feel these things for you, especially after spending only one night together. Which is why I acted like a dick when you called. I was hurt that you hadn’t reached out sooner considering how near perfect that night was.”

A timid smile circles your features. Briefly, you’re cursing yourself for giving in to his charm so easily. Very briefly.

“Mr. Rock ‘n’ Roll isn’t used to having someone else’s life take priority over his, huh?”

That’s when Eddie laughs, and the second the melodic chuckle falls from his lips, you drop your arms and take a step towards him. Your fingers reach for his instinctively and he takes your hand gladly, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Totally not, no.” He admits. “But I am willing to change.”

“Hmm,” you hum, lifting your other hand to brush a loose strand of his brown locks away from his face. “Hope you’re a man of your word ‘cause I’m booked and busy. Can’t have you throw a fit every time I don’t call you.”

The smile on Eddie’s face widens. His right arm makes its way around your waist and he pulls you in, effectively closing the gap between you. His gaze drops to your lips, if only for a split second as he licks his own, then meets your eyes once again.

“I wanna do this right,” he mutters, his grip on you tightening. “I don’t want us to just jump the gun again and leave things lost in translation, so before we do anything else, I’d like to take you on a date, sweetheart.”

Your heart skips a beat ‘cause who knew Eddie Munson was such a damn romantic — definitely not you.

“And where would we go on this date?” You muse, “Since we can’t really blend in with a crowd.”

Eddie purses his lips together, pondering your question. He lets go of you and places his hands on his hips as he walks around the room. You’re following him with your gaze, the smile ever-present. Then his eyes twinkle. 

“Well, how about right here, baby? We can order some room service and watch MTV in bed.” The rockstar announces, pointing to the California King and wiggling his brows.

So that’s exactly what the two of you do. 

With a tray of overpriced hotel food between you and the current top tracks blasting through the television speakers, the evening was perhaps the most normal you both have felt in a really long time. Eddie, of course, gave his opinion on every song that played in the countdown while stuffing his face with french fries. Most were unsurprising, like Whitney Houston’s I WIll Always Love You, well Dolly Parton’s is miles better in his humble opinion, or Bon Jovi’s Bed of Roses, the guitar makes the song. Then came number three on the list.

You visibly grimace while moving the now empty tray to the floor beside the bed and Eddie chuckles lightly.

“Not a fan of your own music?” 

Shaking your head, you sit back although closer to him since there was no longer anything between you. “Just not my best song, is all.”

Eddie nods, resting his hand on your thigh and turns his attention back to the TV. Suddenly, you’re feeling nervous. For one, he’s touching you, thumb gently rubbing circles into your bare flesh. Then there was the music video which, as you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, Eddie seemed to be totally hypnotised by.

And full transparency, he was. How could he not be? It was a one-shot type video of you singing while walking down the street as it poured rain. The outfit you had on was sticking to your skin as a result, hair wet and makeup smudged. Raw, is the first word that came to Eddie’s mind. Not to mention completely different from your usual vibe.

“You gotta give yourself more credit, sweetheart.” Eddie says after a minute and tilts his head to look at you. “Personally, I like this a lot more than your other shit.”

You meet his gaze. “You don’t think it’s too… desperate? Like yeah, the song is making rounds and charting in all sorts of places, but it’s so—��

“It’s about me, isn’t it?” He interrupts, scanning your eyes for the answer he already knows.

“Yeah…” You exhale. “Like I said, desperate.”

He squeezes your thigh before effortlessly throwing your legs across his lap and pulling you in even closer. One hand remains in your lap while the other makes way around your lower back, settling on the curve of your ass — all without breaking eye contact.

“There’s nothing desperate about you, sweetheart.” He mutters, face now inches away from yours. “I wrote a song too, remember? One we’re actually performing together, which is arguably way worse.”

That makes you chuckle lightheartedly as Eddie continues, “Plus, you look fucking hot in that music video. Anybody that says differently is stupid and/or blind. If anything, I’m glad I inspired all that.” His voice fizzles into something darker for the end of that sentence while his eyes snap to your mouth.

You can feel him under your legs as he presses his forehead to yours, all of him. It doesn’t help that he’s so pretty from this angle. The curve of his jawline. The dips in his cheeks. His doe-eyes focused solely on yours, dimming by the second with longing. And just like that, almost as if no time had passed, you’re back where you both started. Hearts beating in tandem. Eagerly waiting with anticipation for the other to make the first move.

“I really wanna do this right, baby.” He repeats his earlier statement, but the way he brushes his thumb across your bottom lip, dragging it down till it bounces back gently in place, betrays his words.

“We don’t have to do anything right now.” And although you mean it, you hope he doesn’t give up too easily.

Eddie exhales. Eyes closing momentarily. He’s fighting every urge ‘cause he doesn’t want to fuck this up again. For once in his life, he wants to see where things can go. But the feeling of your skin, the smell of your perfume, and the memory of you moaning his name so sweetly, well it’s got his heart racing and his dick harder. 

The hand on your thigh tightening in grip, causing you to whimper delicately. And that’s when he loses the internal battle.

“Fuck it.”

He wastes no more time, slamming his lips to yours in an eager sloppy kiss. You immediately kiss him back, hands settling on his neck, nails digging into the sensitive skin. He’s groaning against your mouth at the contact, pushing into you further so that you can feel his cock twitch against your leg. And you’re convinced that if you were standing, it would make your knees buckle.

Heads rotating side to side, nose grazing against one another with each wet kiss, Eddie adjusts your positions so that you were now fully resting on your back as he lingered over you. One of his hands was now on your waist, holding you firmly in place as he starts to grind his hips into yours.

“Eddie…” You moan against his puffy lips.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, pretty girl.” Eddie affirms quietly, trailing hot kisses from the dip of your lips down your jaw. And he desperately wants to stay true to his word so before you get a chance to react, he’s removing your underwear then slides down until his head is between your thighs.

You let out a tender giggle as his facial hair grazes against your skin. Eddie shushes you and after adjusting your skirt for easier access, he begins to place kisses along your inner thigh, drawing closer and closer to his desired destination. Aching for his touch, you tangle your fingers in his hair and tug at his curls. He smirks against your flesh and proceeds to spread your lips with his fingertips, revealing how wet you truly are, then blows several cool breaths over your hot clit. 

He proceeds to gently slide his tongue up and down your pussy, so slowly, you feel every moment of pleasure. Then he flicks his tongue over your clit, sucking and licking the sensitive area until you’re a panting mess. And when you moan his name, Eddie works a little faster. Then continues to increase his speed as his tongue darts in and out of your dripping cunt. 

Just when you think you’re on cloud nine, he forces two fingers into you, his lips focusing on your clit. They arch up to reach that sweet spot he didn’t have a hard time finding the last time and you clasp your hand across your mouth, muffling a scream. He’s relentless in his movements and you find yourself grinding into his face, meeting the pace he’s set with overwhelming frenzy. 

Faster and faster, his tongue licks up and down, spreading your pussy lips further as his fingers dig deep within your cunt, sending you over the edge with every thrust. Your legs start to shake and thighs clasp hard against his head, trapping him in place, while he continues to sucking till you go limp. 

It takes you a moment to recover and Eddie’s feeling mighty proud as he places a tender kiss to your cheekbone before moving to your mouth. You can taste yourself on his lips and it’s enough to drive you crazy all over again.

But Eddie’s got other plans. He’s decided this night is all about you, so despite the desperate hard-on currently concealed by his trousers, he cleans you up before asking where you keep your pyjamas. Your heart soars as he helps you get changed and eventually settled under the covers. 

“Stay with me.” It’s a request he’s happy to oblige. Throwing off his t-shirt and jeans, he joins you in bed briskly. The two of you fall asleep shortly after that, MTV still playing in the background. As first dates go, this one was pretty perfect and you were starting to feel like everything with Eddie was going to be this way. 

Unfortunately, the serene moment was short lived, which, in hindsight, you should’ve known people of yours and Eddie’s stature weren’t privy to normality. 

The following morning, you were both abruptly woken up by a frantic Holly. She doesn’t say anything about Eddie being in your bed, for which you’re grateful, just chucks a newspaper into your lap while you wipe the sleep from your eyes.

Slowly, you sit up then reach for the paper. Glancing between your friend and the guy in your bed, you unfold it. Eddie rests his chin on your shoulder and you both focus on the front page.

“Shit,” he expresses exactly how you’re feeling at that moment ‘cause gracing the front page, with a rather raunchy headline, is a photo, taken yesterday, of the Corroded Coffin frontman towering over you, his hands cupping your face.

[molotovgirl45]

Hiii! I have a TPN request for Emma and Ray (seperately).

Them x reader who is bubbly, childish, energetic, and kind gets shipped out and the next time they see them (reader was with Norman after they got shipped out), they were more reserved, soft-spoken, and mature.

Tysm and have a great day! P.S. Stay hydrated.

This genuinely sounds like something I would read, lol. I hope you enjoy, even though this isn't a total proof read. Just how i remembered. I did mainly just Ray, and im planning on making another version with Emma.This will be based off the manga, but I can make an anime version too. Here you go!

Tw: Violence, slight trauma, use of Y/n, slight angst at end.

Introduction Ray+Emma

After you got shipped out, you went to Lambda with Norman. That was definitely an eye opening moment for you, seeing all of the test subjects as you walked through the halls. You watched as they screamed, or tried to resist, but it was all futile. You watched as they morphed into horrific creatures, their wails echoing throughout the lab. That one moment, the energetic Y/n that everyone knew and loved faded. Throughout the months you spent alone in a small white box, your mind began to shape itself to your new environment. You never really knew what it was like to be injected with unknown treatments, or to be held down so they could test on you. That Era of your life left a mental scar, one that could probably never be healed.

Ray: Seeing you again.

"Long time, no see."

You smile softly at Emma and Ray as Norman stood by your side. Ray's facial expression went from stoic instantly it shock. Was this really you?

"... Y/n?"

Before you knew it, you felt something collide with you a little harshly. He had sprinted towards you, hugging you tight as if he would lose you again if he let you go for even a second. For the first time, Norman, Emma and you saw him cry. He was crying into your shoulder. That was... Unexpected. Half of you thought that he would act like he didn't care. You hug him back. Eventually, he spoke.

"Don't leave us like that again, Idiot."

You chuckled slightly.

"I missed you too, Ray."

Ray: Noticing your personality change

Back at the farm, you constantly would bug Ray, or try and play games with him. So when he asked you if you wanted to play a board game with him, and you didn't light up with that cute face you made when you were excited, he was confused.

"Hey, dumbass, do you want to play monopoly with Norman, Emma and me?"

You glanced up from the papers you were writing. You smile softly.

"Oh, I'm good, thanks."

... He blinked. Were they being serious?

"... What?"

You don't glance up this time, continuing to write some boring papers.

"I said I'm good, thank you, though."

Something was wrong. You *never* declined the opportunity to play a board game. Were they sad? Did he do something wrong that upset them? He frowned hard. Maybe they are just tired. He leaves, to go back to where Norman and Emma were.

A couple days after that, he walks by to see you... Reading? No, clearly something is wrong. You used to HATE books. You would only ever read them if Ray read them to you. He approached you, frowning again.

"What's wrong?"

Huh? You look up, a bit confused.

"What do you mean? Nothing's wrong."

"Did we upset you?"

You get even more confused.

"No..?"

He takes the book from your hands, seeing what it even is that you're reading. ... Pride and Prejudice? Yeah, something is definitely wrong.

"I'm sorry you feel neglected enough to read this."

Your confused expression increases in strength.

"Ray, nothing is wrong. What are you even talking abou-"

"-Y/n, you don't read. You've never read before, unless I was reading it to you. And last week you said you didn't want to play monopoly. Clearly something is wrong. Have you been getting enough sleep?? Sleeplessness affects your energy and mood. Are you depressed or something? You know you can always talk to-"

"Ray!"

You yell, after a couple times he finally seemed to stop talking. You sigh, standing up from your seat.

"Ray, I'm fine. Truly. I just..."

You rub your temples.

"I just matured. Back at the farm, we were together. We all helped each other out, and that gave us all hope. But when you're alone, in an environment like the Lambda, you just... Change. I can't help the fact that I had to mature before I was supposed to. But I'm telling you, I'm fine."

He stares at you for a while, before nodding in understanding. He gives you your book back.

"Sorry for bothering you, then."

He leaves, before you could stop him. You sigh, looking down at your book. You really had changed.

[steddieficrec]

do u have any recs for fics where eddie accidently comes out to steve or steve accidently finds out and eddie panic’s thinking steve is gonna hate him but steve obvs doesnt

This took forever I know! But I wanted to actually make a list and ended up finding new ones that I love and some re-reads. I hope you enjoy it.

Pretty, Pretty Boys by starsdontsleep

(1/1 I 4,097 I Teen)

Steve knows that Eddie is gay, what he doesn't expect is to hear so many details about the guys that the metalhead has hooked up with or is interested in approaching. He also doesn't expect to feel so bothered—so annoyed and uncomfortable about it.

Or, 5 times Steve was unhappy about Eddie being with or talking about another guy. 1 time Eddie was unhappy about Steve doing the same (but didn’t need to be).

Questions & Answers by starsdontsleep

(1/1 I 6,781 I Mature)

Steve doesn’t have a problem with Eddie being gay, but he does have questions which end up leading to practical demonstrations.

smoking guns (hot to the touch) by fivecenturiesverse

(1/1 I 7,590 I Teen)

Sure, they've saved the world, but the best part of that really is that it doesn't end there and in a town where everyone thinks he murdered a girl, he's at least got Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley. It's really not his fault he accidentally starts living at Steve's house, he was invited, after all. There's a mystery too, about Barbara Holland and Steve's pool.

“Your boner is digging into me,” says Robin, and Steve snorts a tired sort of laugh. “I don’t have a —” “You do, I can feel it. Gross.” “Okay, but it’s only a little one,” he says in a small voice which sounds like he’s impersonating someone. “Are you ever going to let that go? I peed a little bit when the Russians got the torture devices out, okay?” She sounds amused, though. Eddie jolts. “Russian torture devices?” Robin carries on like she didn’t hear him but Steve catches his eye and he’s grinning. “How do you even have a boner dude? You were definitely having a nightmare I know your twitching means a nightmare… Did you have a boner over Vecna?”

Dirty Words by morningberries

(1/1 I 10,207 I Explicit)

Steve gives Eddie a lesson on dirty talk, but things start to get carried away.

OR

“Fuck, Steve.” Eddie pulls at the hem of his shirt, desperately trying to stretch it beyond his crotch where he is most definitely about to tent his pants. Maybe if he wore boxers it would have been easier to conceal. “I don’t think we should do this.”

“It’s okay. It just means we’re doing good, right?” Steve slides his hips forward, making his sweats tighten against the bulge between his own legs.

Eddie lets his eyes linger there for longer than he should. There’s no way that Steve is getting turned on by all of this, but shit, he is. The proof is in the pudding—if the pudding is his dick that is suspiciously growing under the heather grey fabric.

Turn Your Back on Mother Nature by gr0gu

(4/4 I 16,996 I Teen)

It wasn't supposed to go like this.

Steve was supposed to work with Robin at the Family Video, flirt with the many many girls who came to browse the expansive selection of VHSes, go on some dates, and hopefully find The One.

It was supposed to be a notably upside-down free year.

And, hey, for what it's worth? He wasn't supposed to be pinned down on a mattress by Eddie Munson either.

And he certainly wasn't supposed to be enjoying it.

But that's getting a bit ahead of things

The Worst Mixtape Ever Made by nbfutureboy

(10/10 I 17,999 I Mature)

“It’s a gift, so you gotta listen to the whole thing, okay? I think-- I think it’s got what it takes.”

There’s an art to making a mixtape - and Steve Harrington has decidedly ignored all semblance of art in creating a mixtape for Eddie Munson. Too bad Eddie’s fascinated with how impressively terrible his song choices are.

took you for a working boy by pukner

(6/6 I 46,823 I Mature)

"Do you--Harrington, do you know other gay people?" "One," Steve says, and then, after a moment, "and a half." "And a half?" Eddie boggles at him, "What does that mean?" "He's figuring it out!" says Steve, defensively, "Taking his time, y'know? Whatever, the point is. It's cool you're gay, man."

Eddie comes out to Steve, and Steve's heartbroken about it for some reason. Eddie thinks Steve's dating Robin. Everyone else thinks Steve and Eddie have been dating this whole time. Robin doesn't get paid enough for this shit.

Also, Hawkins has been cracked open like a badly-baked cake, and everyone's settled into the most mundane apocalypse possible. Eddie Munson starts a radio programme about it.

Meanwhile, Steve gets his nails painted, and outsources a crisis he isn't having.

start by pulling him out of the fire by pricklywhicket

(10/10 I 85,554 I Explicit)

Eddie Munson died on March 27th, 1986.

This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move.

No, wait. That’s not right. That’s Hitchhiker's Guide. Or was it Restaurant at the End of the Universe? Whatever, not important.

Eddie Munson died on March 27th, 1986.

Except…he didn’t. He couldn’t have. Because Eddie Munson is currently arguing with himself in his fucking head about sci-fi quotes, which doesn’t feel especially like something that a dead person would have the capacity to do.

The bats had killed him. There had been pain, and the sick sensation of tearing flesh. He’d had to swallow past a mouthful of his own blood to tell Henderson he loved him. Surely those were symptoms of imminent death.

And yet.

On April 1st, 1986, Eddie Munson opens his eyes in a dim hospital room. There’s a gasp from his left, and he tries to turn his head towards the source.

“Easy there, kid. They’ve got you trussed up pretty good.”

Eddie doesn’t need to see him. He’d know that voice anywhere, in any universe, hell dimension or otherwise.

“Uncle Wayne?”

A story about the families we find and the love that finds us.

Steady as He Goes by StrangerThings1975

(14/14 I 86,759 I Explicit)

Steve and Eddie are under the misconception that they dislike each other.

[rayassecretlife]

Hold onto me

Pairing: Aged up!19 Year old Neteyam Sully x Fem!Human!Reader

Summary: You and Spider grew up like one another, left behind after the sky people perished in the war, but also like spider, you made a connection to the forest and the reef—very loved by its people. You get hurt doing something you shouldn’t have, and your mask breaks before you can react, but your best friend wouldn’t let you go.

Warning(s): Mature language, overprotective Neteyam, Mentions of death, Blood, mentions of drowning, etc (i suck at warnings)

Not proof read!!! Sorry for mistakes

Some might say that human’s don’t belong with the Na’vi, that they are alien to the clan and always will be—or how they’ll never learn the Na’vi ways. But to you, the Great War between your people and the Na’vi changed your life for the better. Unlike spider, you were loved amongst the clan—even by their Tsahìk, Neytiri. She treated you like her own, braiding your hair for you, making you new outfits to wear, offering her home to you, she was the sweetest woman you’d ever met.

Your mother was very close to the clan, kind of like grace in a way. You had many connections to the forest, but none to the reef. You also had an avatar body back in the forest, but you were always too scared to go through the transition with Eywa. You’d only been in that body once or twice, and Neytiri never pushed you, but she’d always tell you it would make things easier even though she was scared she’d lose you.

There was something about you. Something…different then spider. You were treated like one of them while he was the stray cat just walking around somewhere he shouldn’t be. When Neytiri and jake weren’t around, you had their children protecting you like their lives depended on it, never really letting you get so close to danger like spider. Along the many years of living on pandora, you befriended the oldest sully brother quickly, and he was now your best friend. You two went to each other for everything, he’d even find himself on his way to your small hut in the forest just to sit and talk during the night.

You fit in at the reef slowly but surely, seeing as Ronal didn’t know how to feel about you at first. Although she soon realized how useful you had been to the clan. You were a great healer to her surprise, better then most of the ones they had already. You were also very helpful in any aspect they needed you to be, an amazing swimmer too. You were so respected in both clans, the people would do anything for you. You were one of them.

“Y/N!” You ignored the voices behind you and jumped into the deep water, the few bodies following closely behind you. “I told you to wait for me!” You scoff at him and continue to swim, holding onto his Ilu.

“You worry too much, I’m a much better swimmer then you” you hum, tapping the mask that sat on your face before sinking underwater, letting his Ilu guide you to random spots along the floor. You could feel him watching you, ears still up with worry. It was funny, even being human you had still been a better swimmer then most of the sully family—except Kiri of course.

You soon swam back to the surface, laughing at the boys worried expression in front of you. “It’s not funny, you could drown!”

“And you can’t?” He glared at you but you didn’t care, only shrugging your shoulders with the click of your tongue. “Calm down, Forest boy. I can handle myself” The wave came at you fast causing you to sink under a little, water getting all over your mask in the process.

Before you could see the sky again, you felt strong arms pull you and you already knew it was him, practically pushing you above him and out of the water. “Ow, ow!” You whine at his tight grip and he instantly loosened up, still keeping a firm hold on your waist. He forgot how much bigger he was compared to you. “Neteyam, I was fine-“

“Fine? That’s not fine! You-“

“She’s fine, bro” You turned your head at the sound of Lo’ak’s voice, him and Tsireya approaching on their Ilu’s. “You guys wanna come see payakan?” Your face lit up but Neteyam instantly shook his head, dismissing his brother.

“No way. It’s too deep out there, what if-“

“Don’t be such a loser, Nete” His ears fall at your words while you climb onto his Ilu, running a hand along its back before smiling at the younger brother. “When are we going?”

“Y/N-“

“Right now” you nod and look over at Neteyam, his eyes staring you down with that same death stare they always gave. He didn’t want you to go but he knew you would anyway, even if he wasn’t there.

“Either come with me or I’ll go with them by myself” You always used this against him because he was way more protective over you then Lo’ak or spider. He grew up treating you how Neytiri did, respecting you and treating you like the fragile human you were.

But he was also your best friend, and he needed to protect you no matter what. With a groan, he hopped onto his Ilu behind you, connecting his queue with theirs as you giggled to yourself, one of his hands holding on and the other holding your waist firmly. He hated when you did that, when you used your life over any decision he had to make—because he knew he’d always choose you.

The water was surprisingly warm as you glided through the ocean, Neteyam refusing to go under the water because you weren’t too keen with holding onto the Ilu. You slowly approached the large animal after awhile of searching, stopping in the middle of the water as Lo’ak and Tsireya slowly sunk down into the waters.

You tried to follow but Neteyam wouldn’t let you, only making you glare at him. “Let go!” He shook his head and you groaned, trying to pry his hands from you but you knew you wouldn’t be able to. He was Na’vi, and jakes son after all. “Your such a scaredy-cat!”

“I don’t want you to get hurt” you scoff, rolling your eyes as you crossed your arms. You wanted to explore, to swim with Payakan and the others. This is why you never came out with Neteyam, you tried to hide from him most days for this exact reason. “Is that such a crime?”

“What the hell did we even come here for if you won’t let me go!” You complain and he sighs in defeat, still holding you against him. “Skxawng” you mumble and he couldn’t help but chuckle, the vibrations in his chest sending through your own. “What’s so funny!”

“You, Syulang” You look at him but he wouldn’t stop, only laughing harder once you smacked your teeth. “You trying to hurt my feelings makes me laugh”

“I can handle myself” He hums, nodding his head at your words. He knew you could, but the thought of you getting hurt scared him half to death. “I’m serious, Neteyam”

“I know you can, Trust me” He sighs, sliding off his Ilu with ease and dipping his head down into the water to check where Lo’ak and Tsireya were. He pulled his head back up to your pleading gaze, practically begging him to let go. “If I let you go, you have to stay close to me”

Your eyes lit up with excitement. He’d never let up that easy before. “Really?” He raises his eyebrows and you nod your head, his hands guiding you down into the water. “Oh my god, there they are!” You both look over watching Payakan surface, Lo’ak and Tsireya laughing from afar and waving you over. “Come on!”

“You said you’d wait!” Neteyam yelled as you swam away from the boy, making your way quickly to the younger brother. He pulled you to sit along Payakan’s fin, ruffling your hair with a laugh.

“He finally let up, huh?” You push his shoulder as he laughs, Neteyam holding onto payakan’s fin to get in front of you. “Oh come on, bro. She’s fine! She used to jump through the trees like it was nothing” He glared at the two of you, shaking his head at your laugh.

“Neteyam, it’s fine” You ran your hand along the animal’s skin, smiling as it looked at you. You signed to the beautiful tulkun, telling him how pretty he had been. You loved the reef and it’s animals, it was calming to you. “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t so scared to go through the transition” you sigh, turning to look at the people around you.

“I’d be scared too” Lo’ak agrees, shrugging his shoulders. “Do you know where spider is? I tried looking for him before we left but he was nowhere to be found” you shake your head at the boy along with the other two, but you weren’t really thinking about that. All you could think about was going underwater, wanting to swim so bad but you knew Neteyam wouldn’t let you. True, he couldn’t tell you what to do, but he was much stronger and definitely could stop you.

“Can we go under?” You ask slightly nervous and the two next to you instantly nod, already on their way back into the water. “Neteyam?” He sighs in defeat after looking at your expression, holding his hand out to help you back into the water. You smile huge, slipping back down while taking his hand. You almost instantly followed Lo’ak and Tsireya down, Neteyam being quick to follow your trail.

You followed Tsireya through the cracks and plants, signing to her here and there once you saw something new. Lo’ak stayed behind with his brother, watching him watch you.

You are so in love The youngest brother signs, watching Neteyam roll his eyes before he began to swim faster, Lo’ak following behind him with a smile. Neteyam watched you closely, admiring how happy you looked. Your smile made his creep but he held it back before Lo’ak could see,

More animals begin to come into view around you, Neteyam’s Ilu nudging your leg as it passed you. Eywa, it was so beautiful down there. Neteyam came behind you once you stopped, smiling at Tsireya who was talking to one of the animals. He could tell you were so jealous, feeling left out like you always did—but you also knew you couldn’t do things they could.

You turn to the boy, giving him a small smile. Thank you. You sign before heading up to the girl, leaving him by himself once again.

But something was wrong—very wrong. Neteyam could feel the growing pit in his stomach while he looked around, ears perking at the thudding sounds behind him. You and Tsireya looked back at the noise as well, your body carrying itself over to him before you could think.

Stay close he signs to you, fingers intertwining with your own. Sighs of relief leave your body when you see Lo’ak swimming toward you, but just before you could shake it off—the large shadow behind him catches your attention.

Neteyam quickly calls to his Ilu and your almost instantly scooped up, trying to track down Tsireya but she was nowhere to be found. You tugged at his arm but he shook his head, only worried about getting you out of there. You caught a glimpse of the animal as it swam past you, it was an Akula. One of the most dangerous animals in the sea. You needed to get out now, before you got hurt.

But it wasn’t until you felt the firm grip on your arm tear away, and Neteyam was no longer next to you. His Ilu swam away, and you were left alone in the open ocean, barely keeping your self afloat. You felt so scared, so lost without anyone around you. Everyone was gone, everyone was gone and you were left to fight for yourself against this huge animal.

When you thought it had been safe enough, you quickly tried to swim to the top, moving your arms and legs frantically not bothering to look behind you. You should have known it would’ve never been that easy, because In just seconds you were thrown halfway across the area you had came from, body colliding with one of the many rock structures.

You could barely open your eyes as water began to fill your mask, fear taking over your now bleeding body. Your mask is broken—on pandora.

Just as the huge animal was about to charge back at you, Payakan came clashing against it, your body getting swept up by a moving force under you. Originally, you thought it was Neteyam or Lo’ak, but to your surprise, the smaller creature under you was trying it’s best to keep you on its back, swimming with its queue wrapped around your arm.

Neteyam’s Ilu. You knew it was unusual for an animal to create a bond with anyone but their rider, but it felt like his was yours, always at your beck and call just like him. Once you reached the surface you could hear her cries as she approached a small rock island, Neteyam finally coming to view.

He was on his knees on the rock, one hand out for you to grab while his other held his side, small grunts of pain leaving his mouth. He had been wounded—he sent his Ilu to get you because he couldn’t.

After noticing your broken mask, his heart practically dropped from his chest. Lo’ak and Tsireya quickly reaching the two of you with calls of urgency to leave. “Come on! We have to go!” Lo’ak urged but soon realized your struggle to walk straight onto the rocks surface, struggling to breath the thick air they so easily did.

“Y/N!” Neteyam called loudly as you slowly felt your air cut off, your feet stopping almost instantly as you clawed at your throat. “Come on!”

“N-Nete!” You manage to choke out and look at him with the most fearful eyes he’d ever seen, Lo’ak and Tsireya now noticing at the same time. “M-my mask is broken!”

His head whipped back around to you, watching you fall to your knees with a gasp. He quickly caught you, pulling you into his arms while he tried to cover the hole in your mask, obviously not achieving much. “Shit! Lo’ak! We have to get her out of here, now!”

You couldn’t focus on anything as your vision became blurry, fear being the only thing you felt as Neteyam moved quickly with you onto Payakan, trying his hardest to calm you with the desperate words against your ear. You couldn’t breathe—God, you couldn’t breathe! You couldn’t cry, you couldn’t move, only suffer the loss of air making it to your lungs.

“I’m gonna get you help just hold your breath, Baby. I’ve got you—we’re almost there” His hands caressed your hair, voice becoming frantic while watching you struggle under him. “Great mother—fuck!” He watched as a single tear fell from your eye and he cupped your small face, tears threatening to fill his own. “Your okay. I won’t let anything happen to you”

His heart burned with fear—screaming for help as you approached the village. Even far away, the clan were able to notice you coming because of the large animal you’d been riding on. Neteyam’s wound hurt worse but he couldn’t pay attention to anything except you, trying his hardest to calm your fear.

“We’re here, we’re here—it’s gonna be okay” He takes your small hand into his own, but just as you look at him for the last time, your air had already ran out. “Y/N” Suddenly, everything felt blank. Everything felt silent. You stopped struggling, and your once loving eyes turned into nothing—that exact moment is when he lost it.

“Neteyam!” He couldn’t hear his fathers voice or anyone else’s behind him as he yelled your name, tears falling down his cheeks like waterfalls. Everything was static, nothing was there but you.

“Great mother! Please!” He begs, pulling your heavy head against his chest as the clan approached, Jake quick to run to his screaming sons aid. “No! No, no, no!” His cries were so loud, practically alerting all of the villages around the reef. He couldn’t let you go, he wouldn’t let you go.

Jake felt his heart tear into two at the sight in front of him, Neytiri coming up behind him to see what was going on. “Neteyam!” He had to hold her back once she realized what was going on, her own sobs still not enough to cover up her sons. “Get her something! We need the healer now!” Her voice was frantic but still nothing could be heard by Neteyam, his eyes and ears were only set on your lifeless body.

“It’s all my fault, I shouldn’t of let you out there—I shouldn’t have took you” He hugs your head, voice cracking at every word. The whole clan watched him fall apart, Neytiri desperately trying to get ahold of the healer.

“Brother, it will be alright” Kiri’s hand against his shoulder was enough for him to snap to reality, looking back at her with his eyes stained with tears. He felt your body lift up and he instantly turned back, watching as a few of the guys from the clan picked you up. “Neteyam!” He tried to follow you but his father stopped him, only to earn a single push against his chest.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Jake stood there unable to respond as Neytiri sat crying for you, following the clan’s members to the healers pod. “She needs me! I need to go!”

“You know you can’t, it’s too crowded. Please, just wait-“

“Wait? She can’t breathe! And it’s all…it’s all my fault” His knees practically buckled under him, body sinking to the sand in front of the whole clan. It felt unreal—the pain in his heart was almost unbearable. Now, Jake noticed the blood pooling from his sons abdomen, falling to the ground to hold his sobbing mess of a son. “I’m supposed to protect her! I’m supposed to protect her, dad” his words stunt his chest like a thousand bees while his dad shushed him, Lo’ak now sunk to the ground as well only a few feet from them.

Guilt filled the youngest brother, tears brimming his eyes as he stared at the blood on his hands. He told you to go—he said it would be okay. His mother raised them to protect you and he couldn’t even do that. This was more then guilt and sadness, it was disappointment.

Lo’ak couldn’t watch his brother fall apart over you, not imagining the pain he was feeling. You and Neteyam were best friends but in everyone else’s eyes, you were so much more.

They needed you. The sully family needed you. But now, you’d never be able to experience the love he had for you—all because they didn’t listen.

There WILL be a part 2 to this! Stay tuned, this is just a small little thing to keep y’all occupied while I procrastinate the smut writings 💀

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

The Garden

Chapter One

❥Prince!Park Seonghwa x fem reader

☆ feat. ateez, tomorrow x together, and others

➯a/n: i've had this idea in the drafts for a very long time and it's gone through a million iterations of characters and love interests and something about hwa in the skirt and sword clicked in my brain. i'm still recovering but this idea hit me hard and fast so i decided i'd put something out. i promise i'll stop starting new stories 😭 (shoutout to my gf again for helping this come to life)

✃"I will give you the happy ending you've always wanted."

✫彡wordcount: 2.7k

(✯◡✯)genre: historical fantasy au, drama

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: mentions of violence, anxiety, and loved ones passing, briefly proof read

⁂taglist: @stvrfir3 @tunaasan

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

𖢌

I hope this letter has found you well.

   The wheels crunch the gravel road. Horses hooves clap against the ground loudly. The waves crash just feet way. The sounds echo through the carriage.

I know it's short notice.

    The sun is casting down from a clear sky. The grass is healthy, green and lush. The ocean is vast and blue, foam from the waves clings to the pure white sand.

Taedemere is in jeopardy. We are at war. Lord Hwang declared it silently.

  It was a bumpy ride. A long one. But you don't seem to mind. You keep your sisters entertained and keep your brothers minds off of the impending war. Doing so, you can almost manage to distract yourself from your own future.

He's already posted spies. Spies in the castle. Gods knows how long they've been here.

  "The dragon fell from the tower. It's shrieks echoed through the kingdom!" You read with enthusiasm, looking at the twins who look back with wide eyes.

It's not safe for them here. We had to sneak them away through the tunnels.

  "Did the prince kill it?!" Seunghee asks, holding tight to your skirt. "He must have," Soojun is entranced by the story, "right?"

There was an attempt on my life. An attempt on the girls in the garden. Another on Kai and (Y/n). They are everywhere.

  You launch forward and scream, spooking the girls back into Kais leg. He's holding back a laugh as he pats their heads. "The dragon soars up from the fog, the princes sword still lodged into its scaly side!"

They are threatening us with no words at all. Lord Hwang is coming for the Taedemere crown.

   "Must you scare them with such stories?" Yeonjun sighs as he tugs the young girls back up to the seat, sandwiching himself between them and his brother.

You must forgive our absence. I have to keep the crown secure until we have a more solidified plan.

   You simply ignore him, "the creature perches itself on the ledge, it's jaws reach for the prince. He backs into the wall and draws his dagger. 'Foul demon! I send you back to hell!' he yells as he dives at it. They tumb-"

It's time.

  The carriage halts. You snap the book shut and lean back to get a look out of the foggy window. Yeonjun slides into the seat next to you and does the same. Kai strains his neck to look out of the window behind him.

Take care of our children. Our future.

  The gates are iron, shining like they were scrubbed everyday. The castle beyond them seems to be endless.

-King Choi Seungcheol

  As the gates open, you can feel your heart beat in your ears. Seunghee climbs on your lap and peeks out of the window, her eyes widen with every second she inspects the castle.

   Yeonjun seems to notice your dismay as the carriage grows ever closer.

He can feel it to. The feeling that your future is being written in stone with every inch you grow closer.

"When I last saw him," he hesitates as he gets your attention. "Prince Seonghwa seemed to be the same. He hasn't changed, he's still your old friend."

  You manage a nod with a small smile, and although he can tell it's forced; it helps comfort him. It doesn't comfort Kai, however. He never liked the idea of you marrying someone so far away. He still doesn't. You're attached at the hip.

   Everyone knows Choi (Y/n) doesn't want to marry for security or position. You made it very clear. It's a miracle that you've been able to avoid it this long. You figured if you put up enough of a fuss, your oldest brother would simply give up. But you are equally stubborn. And now he's King.

  A loud horn startles you, and you instinctively pull Seunghee closer. Your breathing hitches until you realize it's just the castle welcoming your entourage.

   As you come to a complete stop, all of your demeanors change. Yeonjun wipes his caring expression away and straightens his back. Kai lets go of Soojuns hand and fixes his blouse. The twins try their best to hide their awe at the beautiful and vast architecture.

And all you can do is hide your growing anxieties with a polite smile.

  The door squeaks as it opens. Yeonjun is the first one to exit. Soojun eagerly follows, and Seunghee is right behind her. The remaining siblings can hear the fuss from the bystanders outside.

   The middle siblings sit silence for a moment before he speaks up. "You don't have to be afraid."

You look up and let the faux smile fade the second you see his sincerity.

  "Don't I?"

  "No."He shakes his head. He's sure. His sister has nothing to be afraid of. Because- "if that Prince hurts you; I'll be the one to personally whip some senses into him."

You can't help the small chuckle that leaves your lips, and motion for him to leave the carriage first. He does, leaving you alone for a single moment before someone peeks in.

  "Your highness?" You smile at the man in uniform, standing slowly.

  "So impatient," you roll your eyes playfully and take his hand as he helps you step down. "Thank you, Yeosang."

  He bows slightly before leading you to your place in between your brothers and sisters. Your eyes are still adjusting to the bright light, but you can see the large doors open in front of you.

Yeonjun kneels, Kai follows his lead, you follow his, Seunghee following you; and Soojun stands upright just staring at the royal family until you notice and pull her down by the back of her neck without even lifting you head. You can all hear a small snort of laughter, and Yeonjun worries your family managed to already offend them until the King speaks.

"Please, rise."

The Choi family does so and Yeosang, the knight, steps forward. He bows deeply before turning to the siblings. "The Prince Choi Yeonjun. The Princess Choi (Y/n). The Princess Choi Seunghee. The Princess Choi Soojun. Huening Kai."

A man steps up from behind the other family, introducing them like Yeosang had just done for your family. "His Royal Majesty Park Kyujun. The Prince Park Seonghwa. The Princess Park Bongcha. The Princess Hayoon."

Your family bows, greeting him in unison, "Your Majesty." Yeonjun continues. "Thank you for your hospitality, sire. We are forever grateful."

Your eyes are fully adjusted when you rise from your bow. The king is older than you remember, but it has been a long time. Princess Bongcha has grown so much that you briefly wonder if you've found yourself time-traveled. There's an unfamiliar little girl beside her. The prince, your fiancé, has changed just as much as you have. You contemplate if he even remembers you. But those wonders are cleared when he addresses you directly.

"Princess (Y/n)," he has a bright smile and dark hair, that much has stayed the same. "Your highness," you smile back and lower your head.

  Whispers echo through the crowd that's held back by the guards: and it's becoming hard for you ignore them. You wrap your arm around Soojun when she cowers closer.

   "Please, come," King Kyujun motions for you all to follow him, and you gladly do.

    It's been a long journey, but it's only just begun.

𖢌

  King Kyujun leads the Choi family down the great hall and they can't help but marvel in its greatness. To the twins, it's a new world to be explored, coming up with their own stories that go along with the stain glass windows. To the older siblings, it brings back memories of childhood, a time when they didn't have such worries that plague their minds these days.

  Yeonjun can remember his first kiss behind a delicately painted pillar during the dead of night. Kai can remember learning a dance with his mother in this hall, the feeling of belonging. (Y/n) can remember running away from the tutor with Seonghwa beside her.

  As you look over to him, you notice it. "You still have that goofy smile," you've dropped the titles and politics. You're just a girl reunited with her child hood friend and fiancé. "I though you may have outgrown it."

  "I'm starting to think I may not," he laughs a bit.

   "I'd hope not. It's one of your few redeeming qualities," you joke, hiding your smirk as you look up at the new chandelier you pass under.

   He feigns a gasp, a hand on his chest. "I'll have you know that I have many good qualities."

  You hum, turning to him, "such as? Sparring with a squirrel?" He slaps a hand over his mouth to swallow his laughter. Your laughter rings free in the empty hall.

   "That squirrel was a menace! It startled me!" He argues in a low voice. "It had no right jumping next to me like that," he says with an exaggerated frown.

   "Unnie!" Soojun hollers, catching your attention quickly as you see that your little sisters have fallen behind. You make your way to them quickly, scolding them that they shouldn't yell in the presence of the King. "Look, Unnie," she points as she ignores your scolding.

  Your heart speeds before it stops abruptly, face to face with the intricate stained glass window. The sun shines through it, casting colorful lights on you all. It's a beautiful collage of colors. Every tiny piece is fit together perfectly to tell a story.

   You flinch when a hand is placed on your shoulder. The King apologizes, retracting his hand. "You probably don't remember this..." You shake your head and look back to the art. "I remember, sire."

He sighs deeply, and you can feel his energy apologizing even if he says nothing.

    "Come on, there's food waiting." The twins cheer quietly, following the King to the room where everyone else has vanished to.

    Seonghwa joins your side and looks at the window, basking in the colored light as he looks over the picture for what must be the millionth time. In his lifetime, he hasn't been able to find a single flaw.

  He looks down at you. Your skin is painted in a range of blue and yellow, pinks and greens. There's a patchy scratch on the majority of your cheek that's slipped his notice until now. Your eyebrows have screwed themselves up and your lip quivers.

   "Don't cry," he was essentially begging, "please, don't cry, (Y/n)."

You sniff in response, rubbing a stray tear away from your cheek. It's silent between you as you have a staring contest with the glass. "Fuck," you mumble as tears start to fall more often. "Ah, (Y/n)," he coos, moving to block your view of the heartbreaking image.

"I... It's just, I haven't seen them since they passed, Cheol put away their portrait... It breaks his heart to see them, but it breaks mine not to. I almost forgot what they looked like."

He doesn't say anything, simply opening his arms and letting you fill them. After so long, it feels the same. You're still shorter, but you've both grown. He's still strong, but now you caught up. You still turn your head to the left and place it on his chest. He still wraps one arm around your back and places the other on your shoulders. After all these years, you remember how secure he feels when your arms link around his waist. Even with the time that's passed, he can recall the fact you love when he rubs his thumb over your shoulder.

So much has happened to each of you and yet you both still have memorized each other's hugs. You used to be each others safe place. And though you're older and have met again in such pressing circumstances, it remains the same.

"Your highness," the familiar voice is just loud enough to startle you. "Yes, Yeosang?" You questions calmly, and it's a stark contrast to Seonghwas glare at the man. "Your brother asks for you, ma'am." You nod to dismiss him, and turn back to Seonghwa when he's gone.

"How do I look?"

"Look like you've been crying."

You tut your tongue and gently slap his shoulder with the back of your hand. He smiles as you do. "It'll be okay," he assures you as he fixes a stray from your neat hair, "it's dark in the dining hall."

He takes your hand and pulls you away from the image of your passed parents lazing in the garden.

𖢌

His footsteps are heavy. He's forcing his breathing to be slow. His heartbeat is going wild as he gets closer to the Kings quarters.

He steps in front of the guards and they knock on the double doors. "Prince Yeonjun, your majesty!" The Kings response is muffled by the walls, but clear enough for the guards to be confident in opening the doors.

Yeonjun steps in and looks over his shoulder as the doors close behind him, anything to keep his eyes away from King Kyujun. The doors slam shut and he finds a tapestry to inspect.

"Please, sit." He follows his voice and finds himself sitting across from the King on the large balcony, a round table littered in papers separates them.

"Thank you, your Majesty," he eagerly takes the wine he offers, hoping it would soothe his dry throat. He can't remember being so thirsty before the King called for him.

"How do you find your quarters?"

Yeonjuns lips are still occupied with the glass when the man speaks up, and he takes his time before speaking shortly. "Very nice, sire. Thank you."

"And your siblings?"

"I'm sure they're adjusting well, sire. We thank you, again, for your hospitality while we discuss our plans."

When he finally has the courage to look at the man, it calms his nerves. His crown is gone. His blouse is astray. His nose and cheeks carry a rosy hue from the frigid weather. He looks much more human.

"This is, of course, why I've asked you here."

"Of course."

Kyujun leans back into the wooden chair and lets out a sigh. "Once (Y/n) and Seonghwa are married, we will put our combined efforts against Lord Hwang. He's a vicious man," he tuts his tongue, annoyed at the mere mention of the Lord of Kherhai. "I've heard of the attacks on your family. I'm sorry for you loss and... rest assured, we will not let anything happen to you at this court."

    "Thank you, sire."

   "Your sister," he hesitates just a bit, "I've looked into quite a few people to help her plan the wedding. They'll meet with her tomorrow. I know she doesn't agree with the circumstances, but that doesn't mean it must be unpleasant."

   "I'm sure she will appreciate it, sire. She's been hesitant to do any planning on her own."

   Kyujun nods in response. He already knows this. He's kept close tabs on his only sons fiancée.

   "Sire, may I ask when the wedding is supposed to be taking place?"

"This week, if all goes well. Lord Hwang is no doubt sending men this way as we speak to get rid of the rest of the Choi family lineage." Kyujun doesn't seem to notice Yeonjuns pained expression, and if he does: he doesn't say anything about it.

   He, instead, hands the young man a map of Kherhai: diving head first into strategy.

𖢌

[heavenhealy]

genre: smut, a bit of angst, porn with a bit of plot, professor!matty x grad student!reader, dom!matty x sub!reader, fem!reader

word count: 5.8k

summary: As a final year graduate student, its not always easy to come across people outside of your department who care about your research. When the handsome new philosophy professor takes interest, it seems too good to be true. And when he expresses his interest in you, you can't comprehend how lucky you are.

warnings: this is mature content so please do not go below the cut if you're uncomfy or under the age of 18! specific warnings include: swearing, discussion of an age gap but not a huge one, public sex (in an office w a locked door but still), unprotected sex (literally just don't be like them), spanking, hair pulling, praise, degradation, dirty talk, stereotypical professor things, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), handjob (m receiving)

an: I had a dream about professor!Matty once so here we are. also as always be aware that this was not proof read so there will likely be typos at some points lol also I know the ending is lame but I'm sleepy and couldn't think of anything better

You click through the slides of your presentation: all 45 of them in the same dull academic black and white format. The graphs and charts you've spent hours creating and perfecting are the only splashes of color. It's another day in another empty classroom with no windows, the slate grey tables and ergonomic chairs devoid of any sign of life as you clear your throat up at the wooden podium.

For as many times as you'd rehearsed this presentation you still get nervous, stuttering over your introduction slide as you start the timer to track how long it takes.

Your voice sounds monotone even to your own ears as you zone out, eyes unfocused as you gesture at the table of data derived from your near year of research. You're so dissociated that you think maybe you're seeing things when you catch a glimpse of dark hair edging into the door frame. You frown but keep talking, explaining your research methods the way you advisor has suggested makes the most sense even though everyone who will be listening is within your department anyway.

When your eyes skirt back to the doorway, you know you aren't sleep deprived enough to be hallucinating an entire man, leaning against the frame of the door, eyebrows scrunched in concentration as he scans your slide. You stutter over your words, stunned to see anyone there, let alone someone who seems so interested in your research.

"Uh, um, can I help you?" The mans eyes widen, snapping to your face, scanning you up and down quickly. You shamelessly do the same: skirting your eyes down the chunky knit sweater and loose fit trousers as you try to decipher the lines of the body they're hiding.

"Yeah, sorry, I just happened to be walking by-" the timber of his voice makes you shiver and you feel your heart flutter, spit becoming embarrassingly thick in your mouth.

"Anyway, this is really interesting, Miss..." he quirks an eyebrow as he waits for your name: and that's when it hits you. He must be a professor from another department, and a fairly new one at that.

"Y/N. Just Y/N. I'm not old enough to be a 'miss' yet." You feel your face heating as you speak and the mystery man inches further into the room so he's only a mere few feet away from you. It's still a respectable distance, but now you can see the streaks of gray running through the edges of his curls and you feel like your feet have been swept out from under you.

"Okay then, Y/N." He runs his tongue over the top row of his teeth and hums thoughtfully. "I'm Professor Matty Healy, I just started over in philosophy." He jabs his thumb over his shoulder and you nod, vaguely aware of where the building is. "And this is clearly out of my depth-" he gestures at the big screen, "I nearly failed my basic science courses. But this is really something."

You flush, not only at his attention but at the fact that he's complementing your research- that someone in a completely different department finds your work fascinating.

"O-oh, thanks, a lot of it is only good because of Professor Cannari, my advisor."

"I'll be sure to pass along my admiration to him, then." He stalls, hands rubbing down the fabric of his pants. "Well, I've got to go. Good luck practicing, Y/N." He salutes you as if he were in the army as he leaves and you can barely suppress the giggle until he leaves the room. Your heart swells, presentation suddenly forgotten as you scramble for your phone, scrambling to text your roommates about the sexy new philosophy professor.

----

The high from meeting Professor Healy had worn off by the next time you were set to meet with Professor Cannari. You had debated even canceling this meeting since you were up to your eyeballs in other course work and job applications; but the idea of the sweet elderly man and his bowl of candy waiting for you to show up made you cave. You trudge up to his office, the musty scent that permeates the building making your nostrils flare. Cannari is waiting, as he always is, behind his large desk. His old laptop whirs loudly but his boisterous voice booms over it as he welcomes you in.

"Ah, Y/N! I'm happy to see you!" You sit without being prompted. "Do you have anything specific you want to go over? Any issues with your presentation?" You shake your head, suddenly exhausted at the talk of your research again.

"Not really. I haven't changed anything since the last meeting, I've just been practicing the presentation." Professor Cannari nods, seemingly pleased by your work.

"Good. I do have something that I think will interest you," you cock an eyebrow, curious and a bit scared of what the old man could have cooked up. He clicks a few times on his laptop before squinting and leaning into the screen as if to assure he was looking at the correct thing.

"I've got an email from a Professor...Healy?" Your stomach bottoms out at the sound of his name. "Anywho, he tells me he saw you practicing your presentation and was very impressed," your advisor smiles to himself, "and he says that he'd like to offer you some philosophical theories that may help your presentation do better. Is that something you'd be interested in?"

You swallow hard, mind spinning as you try to decipher what was happening right now.

"Yeah, sure, but I don't know where his office is or-" Professor Cannari is already writing something down on a post it note in his scratchy hand writing. He hands you the neon green paper with Professor Healy's office number on it. Your advisor provides you a warm smile and waves you out of his office.

You hover in the hallway of the office, paper trembling in your hand. Do you go now? Do you go in a few days? Do you go at all? There's nothing inherently bad about going; in fact it will likely be super beneficial to your presentation as a whole. And is that not the whole point of going to grad school? Being able to gather information outside of your discipline to make your research stand out?

Dumbly, you look down at your outfit- a pair of well worn jeans, a simple black cropped tank top overlayed by a gray zip up hoodie. Fuck it. There's no point into deluding yourself into thinking this would be anything more than an office hours meeting. Your feet move before you can second guess yourself.

Before you know it you're crossing the threshold into the philosophy building, wandering dumbly until you find a stairwell to lead you up to the correct floor. You check the number obsessively once you're in the long, eerily empty hallway, and at the very end, wedged into an oddly shaped corner of the building is his office. You can tell he's new just from the lack of decorations on the door and bulletin board just outside of it. Simply just a name tag is displayed underneath the room number. You feel stupid for how fast your heart races as you knock.

It only now occurred to you that you didn't know his office hours, and it was possible he was teaching or not even on campus at all. You almost turn your back to leave as the realization hits you, but the door gently swings open. Professor Healy peeps through the crack in the door, seemingly afraid of what he would see on the other side. When he sees it's you his face softens and the door swings open wider.

"Y/N," he breathes your name and you shiver, eyes falling down to his chest, where the top two buttons of his silky button down shirt are undone. You swallow harshly and force what you hope is a comfortable smile.

"If you aren't busy...I heard you wanted to meet with me?" You try your best to curb the smile creeping onto your face as he gestures you in, hair falling around his face like a halo. His office is everything that you'd expected-even though he was newer to the job, his oak bookshelves are teeming with philosophy texts and a few plants half-dead in their pots. His desk takes center stage as it's surprisingly grand and tidy, the shiny wooden top reflecting the light from overhead in oblong circles. Only one notebook and one stack of what looks like exams exist neatly next to his desktop computer.

"Ah," he clears his throat when he sees you staring, "feel free to sit, I'm afraid it's not the most comfortable chair but the one I want is on backorder." You sit anyway, charmed just by the easy drawl of his voice. He takes his place directly across from you in a cushy, high-backed chair that genuinely looks fit for royalty. Your stomach stirs with arousal when he shakes his curls from his eyes and leans forward, elbows on the desk.

"Can I ask you something?" You shiver, involuntarily shaken by his question. He doesn't wait for you to respond before continuing: "Why do you seem so disinterested in your research?"

You're stunned at how forward he is but a piece of you loosens, suddenly relaxed when you realize the academic front you put up in front of everyone else can be dissolved here.

"I'm just tired of it," you slouch into your chair, matching his soulful gaze. "I've spent the last 5 years of my life researching and refining this presentation and all I ever do is present to people within my field who already know all of this shit, or even are cited in my paper anyway, and it's just so exhausting to say and think all the same things over and over. And what do I get out of this other than a job?" You catch your bottom lip between your teeth, suddenly self conscious at how forthcoming and unprofessional you're being with a professor.

"Sorry, that was a lot. And you clearly liked my stuff enough to contact Cannari and ask to meet with me, so, sorry Professor Healy." You shrug and offer him what you hope will be a soothing smile. He doesn't retreat from his spot but actually leans further toward you and only then do you realize that you had leaned closer to him as well. "You can just call me Matty, please." He offers a sweet smile that makes you agree, and the amount of familiarity just being told to use his first name gives you makes you giddy.

"What..." he swallows, "What do you want? From your life?" You catch a whiff of his cologne with him this close and you can do nothing but scan his face stupidly: eyes flitting between his plush lips and his eyes. Arousal stirs in your stomach the more you stare at him, and you force yourself to look away before you melt into the chair. You start to piece something together in your mind when Professor Healy shakes his head, inhaling sharply.

"It's okay if you don't know, Y/N. I don't know what I want from my life either, even though I have the big fancy job.” He stops, fingers drumming against the top of his desk, just inches away from your body. "But I know what I want right now."

Your stomach lurches with sudden nerves and you’re sure that your face is flushed red as you watch the mesmerizing way his tongue darts across his lower lip, wetting the pink flesh. Surely letting your mind run away to all the nasty places it wants to is going to do nothing to soothe the heat but you can’t find it in you to stop.

“Y/N?” Matty’s voice cuts through the fog in your brain like a knife. Sheepishly you glance back at him and just seems so large that your reply dies in your throat, mouth hung open.

“I asked you a question. Cat got your tongue?” He smiles slyly as he glances down to your mouth and you feel an unbidden rush of arousal in your stomach.

“S-sorry Professor Healy, I- just. Um." His steely gaze cuts you as you slowly realize your mistake. "Matty. What do you want right now? I’m not sure how much help I can actually be, but I can-“

“What I want right now-“ he speaks over you and you still, fingernails digging into the leather arms of your chair. “Is for you to look at me.” He pauses and you realize he means for you to obey him now, so you do. His chocolate brown eyes bore into your own, his intense gaze flicking between your pupils and your lips. Satisfied, he speaks again. “Good. And now I need you to be fully, completely honest with me. I’ll know if you aren’t.” You nod automatically, all thoughts except how purely sexy he looks right now abandoning your brain. A smile splits his face and a surge of joy at making him happy runs through you.

“Are you aware how badly I want you?” His voice thickens and you shiver, the confusion and elation rushing in. There was no way this was real, there had to be someone testing you or playing a trick to expose your most depraved desire.

“You do?” You hate how surprised you sound but who could blame you: the new professor with his bouncy curls and tattooed chest interested in both your research and also apparently you?

Suddenly he’s moving, standing from his grand chair to lean against the desk on your side, just inches from you. He cocks his head and that deadly stare penetrates you as he shamelessly looks you up and down, eyes focused just a second too long on the place where your breasts swell out of your tank top.

“I do.” He nods as if he’d just agreed with your assessment of a news topic, but the way his hands flex on the top of his thighs draws your eyes right to his crotch: the telling bulge of the beginning of a hard on just there. All inhibitions rush out of you at the sight, you calm the shake in your hands and grasp at his own, resting just inches away from his cock.

“Is the door locked?” Your voice is husky but he seems to appreciate it as a breathy exhale passes his lips while he nods. The noise sparks arousal between your thighs, the seam of your jeans teasing your clit just enough to make your head spin a bit when your thighs press together. You stay locked into your chair, sincerely afraid that if you stood your knees would give out, but you trail your fingers up to the waistband of his trousers.

“Is this okay?” His pretty curls crowd around his face as he peers down at you and nods, moving his own hands out of the way to allow you all the room you want. You ignore the way your fingers tremble with the button and unhook it, the sound of the zipper startling in the otherwise silent room.

His cock is straining against his boxers and you can't help the pride that washes over your body.

"Fuck, you're so gorgeous." His voice grits out as you trace your fingers over the outline of his cock, enamored by the heat radiating from his body. His hips jump, pressing further into your touch with impatience.

"Fucking take 'em off." Your eyes flit up to his face, scrunched with concentration as he undoes the buttons on his shirt until it's completely open, torso bared to your hungry eyes. All of his hidden tattoos come to light and you feel yourself salivate. He gives you a pointed look and you spring into action, pulling his boxers down to his thighs. Your breath leaves you as his cock is bared to you, hardening by the second as you take in the sight of him.

"You're fucking huge," the words fall out of your mouth before you can even think about filtering them, but all he does is laugh, smoothing a hand over the crown of your head.

"And you're fucking sinful." The praise goes straight to your head as you cup his cock, immediately tracing the vein along the bottom with your fingertip. The urge to have him in your mouth is insane but you stick with what you've started: the feather light touches across the smoothed, warm skin in addicting patterns until Matty snaps, grasping your wrist.

"I'm glad you're having fun, love, but if you don't start getting to work I'm gonna have to do it myself. And I don't think either of us want that, do we?" Your face blanches at the idea of him leaving, and you shake your head, redoubling your efforts by adding your second hand into the mix. Stroking his cock quickly becomes addicting, as all of his pretty moans and whines bounce off of the walls in his office and you can gaze up at him despite the hand in your hair to see the way his neck flexes as you pleasure him. His cock twitches and swells in your hand and a fresh wave of arousal sticks to your underwear, making you drive a hand between your legs in a desperate attempt for some relief. Matty's hand in your hair tightens as he sees you make this move and he tuts.

"Off of it, now, pretty girl." Matty's voice shakes as he extracts himself from your touch. You whine at the loss of his cock but soon your line of sight is full of his handsome face. Matty has crouched right in front of you, lips bitten raw from his efforts of trying not to cum. You feel your eyes soften at how pretty he looks with rosy cheeks and you lean forward on pure instinct, seeking the press of his lips on your own. Matty catches on easily and matches your eagerness by capturing your lips ferociously; tasting faintly like minty gum and coffee and you moan at this fantasy come to life. You cling to his bare shoulders like your life depends on it, fingernails digging into the planes of his back as he licks between your lips, tongue dancing around your mouth as he steals your breath.

Matty nips at your bottom lip, and then one of his hands is diving between your thighs to press up against the heat at the seam of your jeans. You gasp out a moan at the feeling of finally being touched even if through the thick barrier of denim.

"Fucking soaking your jeans, love," Matty growls against your lips, his dextrous thumb pressed directly over your clit. You squirm in the chair, chest heaving as your nerve endings light up, feeling so hot that you could crawl out of your skin.

"F-fuck, Matty." You take matters into your own hands and strip yourself of your sweatshirt. He chuckles darkly, eyes darting up from between your legs as he licks his lips sinfully.

"Feeling a little hot there? Should I take these jeans off of you and help you cool down?" His fingers are already at the button but you keen and agree with a vicious nod. The brief touch of his fingers against your stomach makes you whimper, impatient beyond belief for him to rid you of the restrictive denim.

"I've got you, don't worry, 'm right here." Matty soothes you as he shimmies your jeans off. He places a gentle kiss against the inside of one knee, then the other, and you feel anticipation bubble in your stomach as he digs his thumbs into the flesh of your thighs, dragging them apart. His eyes widen at the visible confirmation of your wetness slicking your underwear in a dark stain.

"Please," you find yourself begging already even though Matty shows no sign of slowing down as he rids you of your underwear as well. Already kneeling, Matty simply leans forward until he's mere inches away from your pussy. The ends of his strands of hair tickle the tops of your thighs and goosebumps erupt. Matty parts your thighs until your knees are hooked over the arms of the chair and you remain fully exposed to him.

"Look at that..." his fingers trail your inner thighs and your body twitches. "Prettiest pussy on the prettiest little slut I've ever seen." He eyes you carefully to catch your reaction to the nickname and you feel your whole body glow at the filthy words. Matty grins before swiftly returning his thumb to your clit, this time bare. The shock of his sudden touch sends you spiraling toward pleasure, mind blanking of all coherent thought as he draws tight circles around the bud. You grasp onto his hair for an anchor as he doubles down, pushing his face between your thighs. His nose bumps against your clit and his tongue parts your lips, lapping up the wetness with a pattern you can't figure out how to track. His stubble scratches the inside of your thighs as he laps at you, flitting his tongue between your folds. Your hips buck forward and your legs clamp around his head, desperate to be sure that he wouldn't go anywhere. Matty chuckles against your pussy and you can feel it radiating through you. You shiver, stomach contracting as you pull his hair so hard you feel like you might take some of it out.

An oncoming train of pleasure barrels towards you as Matty returns his lips to your clit, sucking ferverntly until you cry, warning him that you're coming. Your mind soars as you come, surely soaking his face as he makes no attempt to slow down or pull back as your hips stutter against his face.

Tears collect at your chin as your body settles, overwhelmed and satisfied. Matty resurfaces, chin and lips soaked with the sheen of your release. He licks his lips as he sees you refocus onto the real world. Matty helps to ease your legs down from the arms of the chair and the simple intimacy makes you dizzy with glee.

"You taste so good, by the way," Matty drones as his eyes sparkle with mischief. He stands, cock bobbing along with his movements and your pussy throbs in spite of the fact that you literally just came moments before. You can't tear your eyes away from it, the reddened head leaking translucent rivulets of precum. Images of his cock pulsing while he ate you out invade your mind and you whine, launching yourself off of the chair with the need to be closer to him.

Matty chuckles as you latch yourself around him, pressing your body into the heat of him, feeling the press of his cock against your stomach. Your forehead sticks to his chest with the perspiration and you're slightly surprised that Matty places a kiss to the top of your head, crossing his arms around you and massaging your lower back in big soothing circles.

"Are you done for the day? All worn out?" His voice is soft and gentle despite the way his cock stirs as his hands drift to your ass, gently massaging the flesh there.

"You're too sweet," you lift your head until your chin is resting on his chest, looking up at his flushed face. The softness of his eyes makes your insides liquify. "Thought you'd be some big, scary, dominant professor..." you distract him with your words as you slip a hand between the two of you to brush the head of his cock. Matty groans, squeezing your ass harder at the confirmation that you certainly were not done for the day.

"Well I am quite big, as you said before, and as far as scary and dominant..." a sly grin splits his face and before you can deliver a new quip he's maneuvering you until you're bent over the glossy top of his massive desk. It's cold even through the fabric of your cropped tank top that you still had on, and your nipples pebble immediately. You can't see Matty so you still and try to focus your ears to hear any signs of what he was up to.

Matty's fingers ghost over your ass again, tracing over the curve that connects it to your thighs. Shivers wrack down your spine as you anticipate his next touch.

"You'd like me to be more dominant? Harder on you?" Matty's voice ghosts over the shell of your ear and you whine, hips squirming as you feel him pressed up against your back. "Need to be put in your place by a fucking professor at your school?" You nod vigorously, arousal making you pliant to his whispers.

His body heat leaves you and you whine, begging for him not to go.

"Fuck, needy little slut, huh? I'm not going anywhere, don't worry. Can't quit this pussy and I haven't even been in it." His voice has thickened even more than you thought possible and its enough to make you spread your legs, exposing your pussy to the cold air and his hungry eyes.

You're going crazy not being able to see him, so you lift your head and turn toward him. His face tightens when he sees you, and with no reluctance he rears back his hand and smacks one of your ass cheeks. The shock makes you still and silent, followed quickly by a body wide tingle of arousal that has a long loud moan falling from your lips.

"I didn't fucking ask you to move, did I? All you've got to do is lay there and take it and you can't even do that." He tuts but at the same time soothes the pads of his calloused fingers over the handprint he left behind.

"S-sorry, I just wanted to see you." The words come out choppy and stunted as you feel his hand leave you, anticipating another slap.

"Take this like a good girl and then you can see me all you want, okay?" Just moments after your agreement slips into the air Matty is landing twin spanks on each cheek, harder than the first. Your body reacts astronomically, your body heat soaring as you wiggle against the desk, surely leaking onto the pristine wood.

Matty praises you even as you wiggle, admiring the movement of your ass while you try to chase the friction you're looking for. Your legs spread wider as you hear him mutter curses under his breath.

"Please, Matty, please-Ineedyouttodomore, please," you feel like your brain is running away from you, maybe it was back in the entrance to the philosophy building, waiting for you to pick it back up when you're done. Emboldened by your begging, Matty spanks each of your cheeks again in a new spot, sure to cover your whole ass in his hand prints.

Matty shushes you, petting over the surely reddened marks on your ass-your newest and most prized possessions. "You've done so lovely for me, enjoying letting me spank your cute little ass." Matty sounds slightly farther away but you pay it no mind as your body goes onto pleasure autopilot. Your clit throbs, eyes glassy and unfocused as you listen to the whispered affirmations falling from Matty's lips.

"Hey, pretty girl." His voice is suddenly very close, and you finally realize that he's rounded the desk to be next to your head. He's crouched down to your level again, one hand pushing sweaty strands of hair away from your temple. You feel lucky just to be seeing his face this close.

"There you are." He smiles and the skin around his eyes crinkles charmingly. His demeanor shifts back rapidly when he sees your clarity come back. "Need you to listen to me now, love. I'm going to sit down and take a break, and you're going to come get yourself off on my cock." Your heart thrums at the idea of finally having him inside of you, and the excitement has you launching off of the desk as soon as Matty has planted himself into the grand chair. His entire body is flushed with exertion and covered in a sheen of sweat that you wanted to lick off. Matty spreads his legs in invitation, arms placed on the arm rests as if he was just lounging. His cock is incredibly hard and red, and you can only imagine how wound up he is from not having come a single time since you began.

You finally right yourself and get off of the desk, immediately taking your place in Matty's lap. Your pussy immediately makes contact with his cock and you both moan at the simple touch. The wetness between your legs soaks him completely as you take an experimental rock over him. Matty's hands clasp onto your tank top and in a moment the top is finally gone, tits spilling out of your bra as you rock against him, breathless and keening.

Matty pulls down the cups of the bra to expose your tits and he groans at the sight, hungrily grabbing the newly revealed flesh. His eyes roll back into his head and he growls at the onslaught of sensations.

"Fuck, put me cock in you or you're going back onto the desk." His voice is strained and you have to hold back a laugh at his desperation but you obey, grabbing his cock to line yourself up. The intrusion is slow despite how wet you are as his cock stretches you to be completely full. Matty devours your tits as you sink onto him, licking and biting the sensitive flesh and muffling his moans into your skin until you're fully seated on him. You feel dizzy and lightheaded at finally being full, the pressure inside of you phenomenally perfect.

Your head lulls into Matty's shoulder and you squeeze your eyes shut as you begin small movements against him, grinding your hips the smallest amount as your body adjusts. You bite into Matty's shoulder to ground yourself and he moans, head falling back against the chair and his hair tickling your cheek. He presses a kiss to your temple as you lick the bite you left on him.

Matty's hands leave your tits to clasp at your hips, guiding you along in the rhythm he desires. Your thighs burn but the pleasure outweighs the discomfort as Matty builds a faster tempo, bouncing you on his cock.

"You've got a perfect pussy, love, holding onto me so tight, yeah?" Your walls flutter at his words and he moans throatily, bucking his hips into you in deeper strokes. Eyes shuttering closed, you relish in the pleasure you had stumbled into as Matty smacks your ass again, spurring your hips back into action as you move against him with renewed energy as pleasure sparks through your limbs.

"Open your eyes, love, you wanted to see me so bad and you got your eyes closed anyway." You struggle to get them opened again while your veins flood with pleasure but you manage it, zeroing in on the satisfied look on Matty's face. He moans as you bite your lip and bear down on him harder, feeling the twitch of his cock inside of you that spurs you on further.

"You're gonna make me fucking cum, shit, you feel so god damn good." Matty groans and strums his thumb over your sensitive clit. "I'm about to fucking fill you,such a good girl coming with me, yeah? Need you to come with me, love." Your eyes roll at his words and you feel your high just seconds away, squealing as pleasure makes your toes curl and you finally come, exploding on his cock, walls pulsing. Matty is close behind, curses and moans of your name spilling rapidly as he comes, filling you until cum is leaking back out around him. Your stomach clenches in an effort to keep it all in as your body sags into his, exhausted and sweaty.

"That was fucking perfect, good girl. You did so fucking well riding my cock." Matty kisses over every inch of your face he can reach with you attached to his neck. A weak thank you leaves you as your mind catches up slowly. Your sweat dries and you shiver, pressing further into his body heat and whining when his cock dislodges and more cum rushes out of you.

You groan at the mess in his lap, suddenly embarrassed in the aftermath. Detaching from him, your head starts to pound when you realize where you are, who you are, who he is...

"Stop that," his hands are on your cheeks, thumbs running over the apples in a steady stroke. "You're okay. I'm not going anywhere just yet." The earnest tone of his voice soothes some of the panic, but you're still teetering on uncertain territory.

"I just, I need to process this, I think. Like who we are, and what just happened and-" more cum leaks from you and you grimace. "And...that." You feel small and defeated, emotions running all over the place. Surprisingly astute to your feelings, Matty begins a low, melodic hum that settles your heart rate. Its a song you don't know but it calms you enough that your mind slows as Matty carefully extradites you from his lap and digs out a bottle of ibuprofen and water to take it with. When your head stops pounding he smiles at you, annoying charming, and you suddenly remember how you even ended up here.

Matty had replaced his boxers and brings you your scattered clothes before he sits himself on the floor in front of you. You avoid his gaze, still feeling slightly awkward and unreal as his choclately eyes examine you while you redress.

"Look at me, please." The edge in his voice is commanding and your stomach stirs with arousal again but you tamp it down. "This doesn't have to be anything else than this. I admit that some of this wasn't our best judgment...but I do genuinely really like you. And I do want to help you with your research. And like, take you on a normal date or something." His cheeks flush and its aggressively endearing to see him get flustered. You can't help the giggle that escapes you.

"Actually help me with my research? Because that's what this was supposed to be too." Your giggles break the tension and Matty rolls his eyes and crowds back onto the chair, pulling you into his lap as he bats at you playfully.

"Fine, maybe next time I'll refrain from fucking you in my office." You pout playfully in spite of yourself, enjoying the good natured sparkle in his eyes. "I said maybe, woman. You'll have me as much as you want me."

[jmdbjk]

Episode 6: Begin and Again

Beyond the Star, produced by HYBE Media Studio

Why is it titled Begin AND Again and not Begin Again? That was my question. Let's delve...

It opens with Hobi working on PROOF, the anthology album. I'm guessing the clip we see was filmed late 2021. Maybe between October and December. He says the concept of PROOF was to organize their numerous narratives and many other parts of their story.

Recording Yet to Come...

While being interviewed individually, I think the question proposed is what are the thoughts that come to mind when thinking about the past ten years and Tae says this: "The vigor of youth, our time as young boys, the time we didn't receive any acknowledgement, and when we pressed on in spite of that, I think that time was the most passionate moment in my life."

Yoongi said perhaps because of their situation at the time of trying to gain ground in their career, they set very high goals and when they achieved them, they weren't satisfied, they wanted to press on to the next goal and that desire was their strength and their weakness, as he says: "their weapon and the chink in their armor."

Jungkook says he often thinks of what he would have become if it wasn't for BTS. He has received so much positive influence from those surrounding him. He feels very lucky to have met the members and believes BTS and everything related to BTS are what created the path for him to mature as a singer and as a person.

Watching them record Run BTS (the song) was amazing. I love that song and watching them have fun in the studio is a healing sight.

They cherish their youth, their first ten years, their "Chapter 1" but they agree, its time to open a new chapter. Begin and again. The pause of the pandemic and beginning again after it was over. The pause for enlistment and the need to begin again when they are back. A lot of beginnings and agains. Begin the period of personal growth. Become BTS again at some point.

PTD Seoul in March 2021 was a situation where a limited number of attendees would be allowed and they would not be able to stand or cheer or sing along or any of those normal things that audiences do during a live concert. It would be a unique situation and possibly may never happen again in the future of live music concerts.

K-Army were thrilled, nervous, excited.

Waiting to go up on stage for sound check they already notice how quiet it is. They speculate amongst themselves whether Army will accidentally cheer. It's funny because we can see both sides as it happens. Yep, the audience accidentally let out an excited cheer upon seeing BTS for the first time after so long and the members are amused when they hear it.

They get started with sound check and reassure Army that they will get through this together.

In the second half of Ep. 6 each member speaks about their thoughts in this initial period where they are beginning "anew" after the pandemic, after they've achieved everything they have so far, after reflecting back on where they've been. They are doing personal things, Jin is fishing, the rap line working on personal projects, etc.

Yoongi says (at the time of this interview) they don't know what to do next (as a group). This is the beginning of their next chapter. Personally, Yoongi says again for the nth time that nothing goes as planned or expected. He would like everyone to have time to figure it out. He personally needs to reconnect with himself.

One of the moments is when Yoongi is in LA recording his part of the collab with Juice WRLD. He is telling the producer that he doesn't want to ruin Juice WRLD's song and the producer says to him: "you can't ruin it, you are only going to make it better"... Suga of BTS is still coming to understand the status he holds in the music industry.

Hobi tells us he will not waste the time until the group is whole again. He has things he wants to accomplish, personal dreams he wants to fulfill. I believe this is one of the reasons why Jack in the Box was ready first and why he enlisted earlier than the others. He was restless to get back into his work.

Jin is a simple guy. He talked about how (at the time of this interview) they had made it to the top and whatever happened, happened, he just wants all the members to live their lives as they want to. As BTS, he wanted the group to be able to do whatever they and the fans wanted to do. He was simply excited to bring back fresh fish to the team and staff after a day-long fishing trip.

RM says the team was telling each other their thoughts on what BTS could be in their 30s and mentioning he was working with The Neptunes which is Pharrell's duo. I wonder when that collab will see the light of day.

The maknae line was wondering how to find themselves since they have tied their identities to BTS, they don't know who they are yet as individuals and they wonder what it will be like. Jimin says they won't know until they live it.

Yoongi says, this is the time for them to get to know themselves.

[saltsicklover]

I've Always Dreamt of You (Unknown Soulmate AU) 

Part One: Blue

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader 

Word Count: 3365

Rating: T

Warnings: Drinking, Swearing, mention of Blood, mention of Vomit, Mention of Character Death.

-- To be continued. I hope you enjoy! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list :) --

Disclaimer: I do not own Bucky Barnes, or anything related to Marvel within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.

I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that may contain mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.

The way Icarus dreamt of flight doesn't even come close to rivaling the way I dream of him. I can still feel the touch of his hands on the cold of my skin, fingertips warming trails like tepid wax down the plains of my neck, dripping from the hallows of my collarbones and down my chest like a whisper. 

He first came to me in glimpses, blurry and burned around the edges. Teasing my senses, never allowing me to catch more than just a piece or two before he faded away again, my heart leaping from my chest and jolting me awake. I guess, over all of these years, I still haven't been able to piece a full picture of him together in my mind. 

He has been visiting my dreams since I was sixteen. He's always been there, in my mind's eye as I drift each night; his presence, his touch. Then, slow and treacherous, fragments started breaking through the darkness of my mind. Every image, sound, scrape of skin against mine seemed to disappear upon awaking, but as the years passed, they lingered like tart whiskey and the stench of cherry cigars. 

I remember the first time I saw something I could recall about him for more than a few minutes upon waking; the color of his eyes, ocean salt blue and trench deep. I began seeing that color everywhere, in the depths of the sky and the cold water beneath my feet as I sat on the bank of the creek listening to the songs of sparrows. 

The color was the only thing that stuck with me for three years; over the time I collected a list of items in the same color, pieces of him that snuck into the real world. Bluebells and feathers, trinkets from nature. I saw it in the jack of my playing cards and the paint of my neighbors truck. I felt like the color was surrounding me, and I welcomed it because I craved him, devouring each sliver I could find, worried that if I continued to let him slip through my fingers I'd never have a complete picture. 

The next time I saw something I could remember, I was nineteen. Bloodied hands never left my brain. The image haunted me like an apparition. The way the crimson leaked down his palms made my stomach twist, queasy and aching. The way his veins bulged beneath his pale skin and the callouses marking themselves over experienced hands. The fact that his hands never quite matched each other, like they weren't both flesh and blood made my stomach turn. 

I vomited the morning after that dream. 

Today I am twenty six and the broken images of him still leak though my subconscious into my conscious mind, interrupting my work day. Sometimes I can smell the strong scent of his cologne in the air, or feel the brush of his fingertips on my skin, up and down my arm. I try to push all the thoughts away, turning back to the files set out on my desk. I scan over the lines again and again but none of the words seem to stick in my head and at this rate, if I can't finish payroll I'm screwed. 

Yet, the only thing I can think of is the bit I saw of him last night, a new bit this time. The faintest five o'clock shadow surrounding desert rose brushed lips. I can almost remember him speaking to me, and the way his tongue would dart out of his mouth to run over his bottom lip, but all of the details are much too disjointed and blurry. 

Most of the encounters I have of him are lovely. Going to sleep and dreaming of him, his hands, his touch, the feeling of occupying the same space; it feels like coming home. He never ages, and the changes that come are small, few and far between. 

He seems to be a combination of both hell and heaven and I am painfully torn between them, the waking hours like hell with the inability to conjure up his image or the feeling of his presence, body pressed up against my own- but at night, whether it be called a dream or heaven, he is there in front of me, and I don't need to see him to know the way me soul yearns for him. 

Lately, he has been coming in flashes- even while I am awake. I can see the the crinkle of skin around the corner of his eyes when he squints. I get hit with whiffs of cologne and the smell of conditioned leather. I feel a cold finger run it's way down the side of my arm, from shoulder to elbow; the whole ordeal making my hair stand on end, goosebumps encapsulating my skin. 

The shrill ringing of the phone manages to pull me from my thoughts, I clear my throat before answering. "Hello, thank you for calling Charred Ambrosia, how can I help you?" I ask over the loud music that is rumbling through the walls.  Seven in the evening on a Thursday night and people are already starting their weekend off at the bar, my bar. 

"Hey, Scooter, is that you?" A smooth voice asks through the crackling of the land line. I grimace at the nickname but a smile still tugs at the corner of my lips. I've always hated the fact that I like the nickname, but I could never tell Scott that I do in fact like it- couldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing. 

"Hello, Scott, yeah, it's me. What's up?" I question, pulling the coils of the phone cord through my fingers, letting each one of them bounce carefully through my fingertips. 

"You keeping busy tonight, or do a few friends need to stop by to keep you company?" He jests, I can hear the joy leaking through the line. I roll my eyes, though he can't see. 

"We are plenty busy, thank you very much. But I wouldn't say no to seeing you, or your friends, you know that," I inform him, closing the paperwork in front of me. I slap the pen on top of the files, creating a problem for future me. 

"Happy to hear it, Scooter, because some new work friends and I are on the way over right now. You better be behind the bar when we get there!" The line goes dead and I can't help but laugh before setting down the receiver. I head out of the office and head back behind the bar, attempting to make myself as busy as possible as I wait for Scott and his buddies to get in. 

After a handful of checked ID's and served drinks later, Scott comes barreling into the bar, his throng of friends in tow. They stick out against the regulars, their eyes too trained, movements calculated as they position themselves with their backs to the wall. Maybe old habits die hard, or maybe it's because they've come close to death one too many times not to play it overly safe; it's like their scapula's are drawn to the studs in the walls. 

Scott pushes up to the bar, his mudslide iris's bleeding with light unbridled joy just as they always do. A wide smile adorns his face, cheeks beginning to go red. He slides himself into a barstool, the rest of his friends confining themselves to a booth against the far side of the bar. 

"Hey Scotty, what can I get you?" I ask, running the towel in my hand over the counter in front of him. I try and return the smiles he gives me but I know it doesn't quite crest over my eyes. If Scott notices, he doesn't say anything. 

"A round of tequila shots for the table, so that will be six please, Scooter," He taps his hands against the warn and scratched surface of the bar top as he speaks. I swear I have never seen Scott not fidget. 

"If I counted right when you came in, there is only five of you," I chuckle, pulling the shot glasses out from underneath the bar. I line them up carefully before pulling out the salt to rim each glass. Scott furrows a brow at me before turning back to his group of friends to count. I can't help but laugh as he counts each of them on his fingers. 

"Oh right!" He exclaims, turning back to face me, "Bucky isn't here yet, but he will be, so six shots please." I roll my eyes but rim one more shot glass with salt before putting a wedge of lime on each of them. 

"Go sit with your friends, Scotty, I'll bring these over when they're ready," I inform him, shooing him away with a wave of my hand. He goes to protest but keeps quiet when I raise my eyebrows at him. He knows better than to challenge me, especially after all of our years of  friendship. Scott wanders over to his friends and I pour each shot before placing them carefully on a tray. I pull the tray carefully from the bar before rounding the corner to their table. 

"Good evening, gentleman and Wanda, how are we this evening?" I ask, a smile spreading over my lips. I have met only Wanda, which happened to be by complete accident when she came into the bar with her brother, Pietro, when they were still new in town. She came around a lot after his passing and we became friends somewhere between then and now. 

I know of the men sitting with Scott, being that they are Avengers, but I haven't met them officially. The large blond sitting next to Scott cracks a shy smile, sending a look my way and the older man next to him shoots a knowing glance across the table towards Wanda. He earns a hard elbow to the ribs from the black man sitting on his other side. I pretend not to notice as I place the shots down in front of them. 

"I'm Steve," The blond speaks as he looks up at me from his seat, "We've heard so much about you, from Scott, it's nice to finally meet you," 

"Hello Steve, it's nice to meet you as well. Thank you guys for coming in to visit little ol' me," I chuckle, tucking my tray under my arm. I lean into Scott's shoulder with my hip, bumping him playfully. 

"Scooter, this is Clint, Sam, and you know Wanda," Scott introduces the rest of the group, each of them nodding and offering a kind smile. 

"What brings you guys to this little hole-in-the-wall this evening?" I question, my eyes roaming around the table. 

"Scott says you make the best drinks," Sam answers as he spins his shot carefully on the table.

"And we wanted to meet you! Sometimes it's nice to talk to normal people, you know?" Steve speaks and I can't help but laugh at his choice of words. Scott laughs too, tears beginning to form in the corners of his eyes. 

"Normal people what's that supposed to mean?" I jest, looking Steve dead in the face. A blush beings to form under his collar, spreading up his neck and over his face quickly like a wildfire taking over. 

"You know, civilians, not super people, just normal!" Steve tries to save the interaction but the blond next to him, Clint, shoves an elbow into his ribs again. 

"Quit while you're ahead," He mutters, a grin pulling at the corners of his lips. Steve just slouches down a bit in his seat, trying to make himself disappear into the upholstery. 

"Don't worry about it, I'm just fuckin' with you, that's all," I chide. The group erupts into laughter, and I can't help but feel grateful that Scott drug his friends here tonight. All of this is better than trying, and failing, to fill out paperwork. "Scotty told me you have another friend joining you this evening, is that right?" 

"Yeah, Bucky should be here any moment," Sam informs me, checking his watch for good measure. 

"Well, considering the fact that he is late, I think this shot here belongs to me," I pick up the glass carefully, taking the lime off the rim. "Shall we?" I ask and each person grabs a shot. 

"To drinking with normal people!" Scott toasts, shooting a wink in my direction. A chuckle escapes my lips as I tap the bottom of my glass against the table before bringing it to my lips. I lick the salt off the rim quickly before taking the shot. The alcohol isn't as unpleasant as it could have been, but I hastily shove the lime into my mouth anyway. 

"I don't think I'm meant for shots," Wanda grimaces, shaking her heads. Her body vibrates, goosebumps pilling over her skin as she shoves the shot glass away from her on the table. 

"I don't blame you," Sam laughs, the sound full and rich coming from his lips. It makes me smile.

 It's nice having actual joy radiating through the bar. More often than not, there is always someone here drinking away some sort of grief or thought they cannot outrun. Others are here to get into some trouble or someone else's bed for the night. Joy seems to be in short supply and I try and soak it in as Scotty and his friends laugh whole heartedly. 

I let my eyes run around the group once more, the hodgepodge of personalities seem to coexist is a natural nature I've never seen from a group before. Each one seeming to compliment another, the group more tight knit than most I have ever seen. The pure definition of chosen family. When I zone back into the conversation, they are making bets of if their friend Bucky is even going to show.  

"He is definitely coming," Steve assures the group, rubbing at the crease in his forehead. He looks tense, like he is trying to convince himself with his words. 

"I doubt it. You know he never leaves his apartment," Sam counters. 

"Shall I get another round?" I ask, placing each of the empty glasses on the tray. I am looking for an escape from what seems to be a tense conversation forming. 

"Yeah, I'll come with you!" Scott smile, looking a little uneasy about the group conversation. We walk back to the bar, Scott following close behind me until I round the corner.

"Same thing? Shots? Or would you guys like something else?" I question, moving each of the empty glasses over to the sink. He orders beers on tap, the local stuff the team came to try. It's apple forward and sweet, pouring the drinks makes me wish I could have one myself. 

"How have you been Scooter? How's your Dad?" Scott asks, plopping himself down one of the tall stools. He shoots me one of those looks, like he is trying to get into my head and dig around. 

"Are you asking or is it just an opener for the question you really want to ask me?" I set two of the freshly poured drinks on the tray before grabbing another glass. 

"Well, I do want to know how you and your Dad are. But I guess I'm really asking, how have you been lately? Any new dreams?" He doesn't quite meet my eyes at the last part, instead opting to look over my shoulder at the rows of liquor behind me. I curse under my breath, wishing my Father had never told Scott about my dreams in the first place. 

"I am doing fine. Dad is still in prison, just where he was when you got out. You know that. But I do get letters and he assures me that he is doing well. He misses you." I tell him, working on the fifth drink. "I still have dreams. Lately, though, it feels like he is coming in flashes and feelings even while I'm awake. I can't shake the feeling of his fingertips on my skin," I shiver at the thought. My voice comes out somewhere between longing and desperate but Scott doesn't let his face faulter. "But I am all good, Scotty, I promise. I just wish I could figure out if there is something more significant here or if I am meant to be tortured by this phantom my whole life," I place the last drink on the tray, smiling sadly at Scott. 

Scott leans across the bar, taking my hand with his. "You know if there was anything I could do, I would," He reassures me, his thumb running over my knuckles. "I know you don't want to talk about it anymore, and I said I wouldn't, but I'm sure if you came by the facility Bruce would run some tests-" I cut him off with a tight squeeze to his hand. 

"Scott, I know you are concerned, and I really appreciate it, but," I shake my head at him, my hair falling into my face, "I am perfectly okay. I don't want to be poked and prodded just to find nothing. Plus, they are just dreams, very vivid dreams," I say in an attempt to sound convincing and I squeeze his hand for good measure, but I know he doesn't believe me. Hell, I don't believe myself.

He drops the whole thing and I pull my hand from his. "Lets get these over to your friends, huh?" I grab the tray and pull it carefully from the table. Scott nods at me, leading the way back to the corner of the bar where his friends sit. When the table comes into view, there is a large man sitting in the chair Scott was sitting in previously. His hair is dark, cut short around the sides but the top is longer, tousled back away from his face. A well worn leather jacket is slung over the back of his chair. 

Scott scoots into the wrap around booth, sitting himself down next to Wanda. I move next to the mystery man, who no doubt is Bucky, the friend they have been waiting on. Scott is to my right. I Bucky's face is obscured by the tray of beers in my hand. I begin sliding each person at the table a beer, the honey colored liquid sloshing around in each of the glasses as they slide across the table. 

I grab the last drink in my hand before tucking the tray under my arm. I turn to look at Bucky, a smile on my face- one that quickly melts into a look of surprise and absolute bewilderment when his eyes meet mine- no one else seems to notice the glint of recognition that flashes through his eyes and mine. The cool blue of his irises send a volt of electricity through me and the beer in my hand quickly slips from my grip, the glass shattering when it hits the floor. 

That shade of blue- somewhere between cerulean and slate- hits me for the first time outside of my subconscious and the color is beyond entrancing. Everyone around us seems to jump and begin asking if everything is alright, but I am stuck in the depths of his eyes and the way they seem to glimmer in the low amber light of the bar. 

He looks at me too, in a way no one has ever quite looked at me before; like he could see right past the flesh and blood of my being, straight into my soul. A small smile blooms over his lips, dusty rose and plump. I drag my bottom lip between my teeth as my eyes dart back up to his. 

Scott grabs me around my upper arms, moving me a couple of steps back away from the broken glass that now decorates my floor with sharp slivers. 

"Scooter, what the hell was that?" He asks me, stepping into my field of view, blocking Bucky and I's shared eye contact. "You look like you've seen a ghost!" 

"More like a dream," I whisper, "Maybe a nightmare."

[foultastemusic]

EP Review - Here, Hear. IV – La Dispute (2024)

This EP was the best gift that 2024 could give me, and we're still only in March. A game between the traumas in the stories recounted in La Dispute's first "great" albums - Somewhere at the Bottom of the River Between Vega and Altair (2008) and Wildlife (2011) - revolutionary for the experimental world of midwest emo, post-hardcore and the underground community in general, and the latest works of art that are most listened to and reflected on, which tell us through the details of everyday life, feelings, landscapes and images open to the listener's imagination - Rooms of the House (2014) and Panorama (2019) - when recitation becomes part of the post-hardcore trends.

Despite the pained voice and the contrasts that create the perfect synthesis of the guitars and bass, the rhythmic coherence of the drums and the literary personality of the band that has always been faithful to us from the beginning until today, elements that have created the "brand image", I notice that these geniuses of emo music don't mind experimenting with new electronics, the absence of screams and distortions, love, new ways of saying things. The fact that we can't catalog and put aesthetic labels on certain artists, because they are constantly metamorphosing and contradicting themselves with the genres given by fans and record companies, certain types of festivals and events, algorithms of streaming platforms, etc., is a proof that the post-hardcore of these bands that continue to record over the years is maturing as a movement. And this EP has made me reflect on my generation, which adapts to trends by not adapting to it at all. Perhaps silences and improbable harmonic resolutions are the oxygen pump for artists and listeners of music created in a studio as if it’s a laboratory.

Here, Hear. is a collection of four volumes, the first of which was released in 2008, the band's big bang year. In the four volumes, we can see that La Dispute exploded at the beginning and took their own advantage of the sounds in a very genuine, pure and direct way, unashamed to use unconventional instruments such as pianos, maracas and “folklorized” melodies - always recognizable on a timbral level, anyway - but it was in this last one, sixteen years later, that we see the band flourish, not in an explosive way as before, but always pure and honest. They reinforce simplicity and the timeless stories. Sixteen, the fourth song on the EP, and one that had been released before on Spotify, marks a new life of La Dispute: it reminds me of the walks I had to school when I was fourteen and of my first crush had dedicated the song Such Small Hands (2008) to me in anonymity; of the song Woman (In the Mirror) (2014) when I was always at home trying to discover my own way of (always hidden) teenage happiness. Today I've discovered how happy I can be and that the nostalgia for the sadness, heartbreak and melancholy that went on in the corners of my neighborhood while I listened to La Dispute's entire discography for most of the years I lived there is part of it. We were sad listening to sad music, and happiness, today, is based on that. This single, according to my empirical experience and to the community of fans writing online as well, reminds us of those nostalgic times.

And the group's aesthetic minimalism continues. Not just in the music, but in the band's overall image. And I'm enjoying watching it. The lyrics and stories increasingly make sense, since the instrumental part of the EP makes them prevail. In the song Reformation, which concludes the EP in a mode of ecstatic tranquillity, we have a beautiful guitar that harps along with Jordan Dreyer's unsung and unshouted voice. Just like that. Everything that the music of sensitive people needed to offer about the art of growing up and noticing life's little symbols, even when you drink your coffee in the morning before facing the life of an adult who is emotionally trapped by the years that have passed.

«You awake at 3AM to the soft voice of her dream, saying

"These are the people who said that you like him would never die

Until you do and you will and I will too

Just like this, baby, but longer, forever

And there's nothing past that door, I know it"

Before she drifts back to sleep where you can't now and it's okay

Peace be with you»

Reformation, La Dispute (2024)

[nightmareofthelake]

a dream of blood and rain - [samicolin] - chapter 1: a dream come true

Rating: mature

Relationships: Colin Becher/Samama "Sam" Khalid

Tags: Vampire Colin Becher, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Vampire Bites, Human/Vampire Relationship, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, First Kiss, Bloody Kisses, Love Confessions, Falling In Love, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Dreamsharing, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary:

Colin dreams of a man who turns out to be his new coworker. He thinks that it's just a stupid coincidence but he keeps appearing in his dreams. His thirst for the other man's blood only grows, while Sam is trying to befriend the scary IT guy and uncover certain secrets from his own past.

Colin was alone. The other tables on the porch were empty and not a single soul was in sight. The only sounds he could hear were the relentless rain on the glass roof and the gentle melody of the bamboo chimes above him. He tried to look out, but all he saw was an endless sea of trees, obscuring any view of what was behind them. He didn't know this place and he didn't know how he got here. His head felt like it was filled with cotton and he had trouble remembering. Colin closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. He felt the wind on his face. Heard the rain and the chimes. He smelled the forest and...coffee? He opened his eyes and saw a cup of hot coffee standing in front of him. A cup that hadn't been there before. Did he order it? Did someone bring it? Colin picked up the cup and took a sip of the dark liquid. It was the best coffee he had ever had. Much better than the stuff he got at the office. Office? Which office was he thinking of? He couldn't remember. He closed his eyes again and let the coffee take over all his senses.

“Sorry I'm late. Did I make you wait long?” Colin looked up and was greeted by warm eyes and a friendly smile. “No, you didn’t,” Colin replied. “I just arrived myself.” Did he? His mind was still cloudy. The smile widened and the stranger leaned back. Colin couldn't help but compare him to a painting. At first glance, you could see the talent and beauty in it, but the longer you looked at it, the more you realized there was more to it. Like a hidden meaning that still had to be revealed.

"How are you?" said the stranger. “How’s work?” Colin sighed. “How can it be? The computers are out to give me gray hair early.” He spoke without thinking and without any real reason to answer the other person. What was the purpose of this meeting? The stranger only laughed, and the sound of that was like a sweet melody. “I’m pretty sure the look would suit you.” Colin grunted and took a sip of his coffee.

“When was the last time you fed on someone?” His gaze immediately shot to the stranger, who just looked at him with concern. How did he know... “You know that you can come to me at any time,” the stranger placed his hand over Colin’s. “You can drink from me at any time.” Colin felt the familiar tug of his fangs that came when he was hungry. But his hunger was momentarily replaced by confusion and surprise. A stranger who knew too much and willingly offered his neck was too much information for Colin to process. “Are you aware of what you’re actually offering?” The stranger stroked Colin's hand. His warm fingers were like embers on Colin's cold skin. “Yes, I am,” the stranger confirmed, giving him a smile that was full of desire and hope. “In fact, I wish that I was the only one you feed off of...”

Colin wanted to say something in response, but his treacherous alarm clock beat him to it, snapping him out of his dream of rain and warm eyes. He lay in his bed and tried to understand his dream. Was it even a dream? It felt so real. The fact that he was lying in his dark room should be proof enough that it was a dream. And yet he could still feel the stranger's burning touch. When he closed his eyes, he saw those warm eyes and the bright smile that couldn't possibly be real. The stranger was just a fantasy created by his sleeping mind.

Colin got up and made his way to the bathroom to slowly get ready for work when he noticed something strange. His fangs were fully extended and very obviously sticking out from the rest of his teeth. This usually only happened when he was hungry or in the moment of feeding, but he never had them completely out like that. He had to relax his jaw as quickly as possible, otherwise he would have to be extra careful tonight. It was bad enough that today was also Teddy's farewell party and he was forced to spend even more time with the others. Alice had also mentioned that the new employee would be attending the party. The night couldn't get any worse.

It turns out that relaxing any muscle was impossible when under constant stress. Colin found that out the hard way. Luckily, he had his own little office where he could hide until he was relaxed enough to retract his fangs. A plan that could only work if none of the computers decided to hang themself. All he had to do was wait a few hours, wish Teddy good luck on his new job, and then get out of there as quickly as possible. Easier said than done, because even though he had somehow managed to survive the shift, Lena had to force him to take part in the celebration.

“You look like you’re having the time of your life!” Alice commented. “Can hardly contain myself!” Colin replied dryly. “The atmosphere here is deader than the catacombs below us!” "The what?" “Where is the new employee I’ve heard so much about?” “Sam is just filling out some things with Lena. Please be polite and don't scare him off. At least not before he officially started working here.” Colin shrugged. “Can’t promise anything!” No matter how hard he tries, he has no control over how Sam might react to him. Some people were simply much more sensitive to the paranormal and others were blinder than a mole with a stuffy nose. Colin hoped that Sam wasn't the more sensitive type, because then he wouldn't last a week here. “Say, what did you mean by catacombs below us?” “Don’t think about it” "Do not say that! Now that’s all I can think of!”

Colin chuckled and looked around the office. He hoped to be able to take a first look at his new colleague and perhaps form an initial opinion about him. One of the few advantages of being a vampire was his intuition, which was usually 99% correct and often helped him avoid difficult situations. It was actually just to help him to spy out the perfect prey. Colin spotted Lena and definitely knew that Sam had to be lurking around here somewhere. And sure enough, he saw Sam deep in conversation with Gwen. Colin couldn't see his face because Sam had his back to him. From what Colin could see, Sam was of average height, but could probably use a few trips to the gym. Alice hadn't exaggerated when she described him as noodle-armed. At least he seemed to take good care of his hair, because even from far away it looked incredibly soft. Lena seemed to ask a question, prompting Sam to turn around.

If Colin still had a beating heart, it would have stopped as soon as he saw Sam's face. Those warm eyes and the shy smile that radiated so much kindness. Colin felt his fangs tugging. There was no way this could end well.

[allycat75]

Sorry, this one is long. But the subject has given much to work with.

Proof People's Sexiest Man Alive 2023 really does hate himself, just from other quotes in the SMA article:

"I feel like I have a bit more freedom to take time away from the industry and still find projects that will satisfy my creative appetite when I return" I am sure based on the phoned in performance from Ghosted and on the reviews of Pain Hustlers, it sounds like you must be starving.

"My mom will be so happy," he says. "She's proud of everything I do but this is something she can really brag about". How she feelin' about that incel group also being proud of you?

Of Boston "We've got a lot of good schools. Let's give education a plug, that's damn sexy." I have read the few interviews your "beloved" has given and never before have I read so much and someone said so little. But hey, eyebrows are sexy, too. You can probably talk about that.

 "I love the idea of tradition and ceremony, I had a lot of that in my life so the idea of creating that, I can't think of anything better." So I guess some new traditions are never being seen with your one and only without it being breadcrumbed and/or trolled, surrounded by a bunch of people, staged and scripted, all while you look miserable. Oh, and also talking about how you like to be alone and your dog is your soulmate.

Values most in a partner is "vulnerability and humility." I am sure your acting teaching family is thrilled she feels she is such a great actress that she doesn't need classes or coaching.

"I don't like to argue, I don't like to raise my voice, or any forms of manipulation," Yep, I know the feeling Christopher.

"It's wise and mature to be able to say "I'm sorry I made a mistake,' to be vulnerable and not always be looking for the argument or take things to an argumentative place. That takes a lot of maturity and I find that very sexy." I am sure that was the exact thought process when your baby posted her shower pic to deflect from the criticism she was getting for her problematic behavior. And did we miss the "sorry"? But only if it is accompanied by behavior change. Otherwise, it is just one of those pesky manipulations none of us likes.

 "I love love". And that is why you feel comfortable taking a big dump on it with this disaster. If you are faking it, you have made love a joke, but if by chance it is real, you have shown yourself to be the absolute worst partner ever.

"The tough questions, you know what I mean? I [asked] a lot of tough questions as a kid," he explains. "'God made everything everything?' 'Is the color red to you the same as the color red to me?' I was a high strung kid and emotional so I'm anticipating those questions to be loaded with a lot of anxiety. And I think [as a parent] not only can you give a good answer to the specific question, but the tools to navigate tough questions like that." I'll just let the reader mull this one over, but I am curious to know the possible answer if asked "Dad, what do I do if I am forced to fake marry someone who represents the exact opposite of everything I have claimed to want in a partner? It will require me to use my family and friends in dumb schemes and stunts that will distract them from their daily lives and make thousands of innocent people look and feel crazy. It may even cause me to compromise my integrity and core beliefs by aligning me with those who represent the most base of our society."

But in all seriousness, there are some huge red flags here and this is unsustainable for a normal, happy life. Please study the lessons of this disaster, because the real tragedy of this mistake would be to just move on. Get help from professionals and seek to understand patterns that you keep falling into. I find the ABC method works well:

Good luck!

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

Yet To Come in Busan: A concert with potential, but failed to deliver

I'll try and touch up on a few aspects of the concert, what worked and what didn't and make a comparison with the previous concerts they held since 2020 onwards.

Set design and stage production

Compared to Permission To Dance on Stage, to me it looked like they put a lot more effort here, similar to what they did for Sowoozoo. They had enough props in order to not make the place look deserted with just the 7 of them on stage, but they didn't really make use of it as much. After all, most of them were mementos of their career, scattered around to show the evolution through artifacts. What is interesting is that I didn't feel a sense of nostalgia during this concert, a farewell for the time being, despite being one. It didn't steer into the direction of an emotional last performance.

Having a live band on stage does wonders. It had the same effect when they sang YTC, Born Singer and For Youth when they released Proof. I don't care what anyone has to say, hearing some damn actual instruments can elevate a song and make them sound and look like they could be the real deal (if they do manage to do that, but I'll get to that later).

The camera work for this concert is not one suitable for an idol group that moves like BTS. It might work for an ensemble that doesn't move too much or they stick around the main stage, but in this case, it left out significant portions of the performances. There were not enough wide shots, especially on group choreography, particularly for Run BTS which had its debut. I also don't understand why they kept doing close-ups on a member that wasn't even singing while another one was in the middle of it. This is why the option of having multiple screens worked because they had the main wide angle and then other sections for anyone who wanted to see everything that was happening. Because they do move a lot, all the time.

I do feel there is a difference in stage choreography and position, compared to their previous concerts and it became visible once they did Sowoozoo and even more obvious with the PTD concerts. They don't stick together as much, a lot of the times they are on their own with some time spend in small groups or all together. I'm talking here about freestyle, not dance choreography. And because of that and having this particular type of concert directing, it felt as if it wasn't possible to be able to see everything that was happening.

Music style, set list and pace

I liked the direction they took by embracing a more hardcore/rock version of their song and they stuck to it on all songs, except the ballads. I do think it could work perfectly for them because it did create that music festival atmosphere, but it's not really their identity as a group so it's hard to look at it as a serious commitment. Which it wasn't. It was nothing but a stylistic music choice for this particular concert so it's not as genuine as it could be. You don't transform into a rock star over night. And not everyone can be. Wearing leather pants isn't enough.

More than half the songs were the ones they sang during PTD so there wasn't a lot of diversity but I can see why they chose the more fast paced ones given the scope of the concert. But it gets repetitive. They did a much better job for ON:E because it had more range. And better stage production, costumes, you name it. I think that for BTS as a K-Pop group, it managed to show better their capabilities after all the years of being active. It showed maturity and being able to give old songs a new feel. That didn't happen with YTC in Busan.

Some major criticisms

As much as I got excited at the beginning in the first minute or so, it soon turned into frustration because they did sound bad. Way too bad to start a concert like that. And especially during Run BTS, which is shame given that it was the first time they sang it live. The difference in energy was also visible in group choreography. No point of ignoring that. By the time they reached Cypher Part 3, they got a little better, but overall it seemed like they weren't ready for a live concert. Jungkook was stable and did a good job because he doesn't usually slip, but other than that, not so much. I was surprised by Jimin because he said he's taking lessons. I also noticed a difference in mood with him, but I'm not exactly sure why, it's just a thought. He did great for Run BTS though in terms of choreography. 3J in general, but that's not surprising.

Livestream

HYBE may want to play in the big league and establish itself, but not being able to have a platform capable of not crashing during a live concert is at this point incredibly embarrassing. The same issue happened during Hobi's concert at Lola, but it wasn't as bad as today. Hire a better team, invest some actual money to develop a good enough streaming platform. If not, find an external source for events like that. Which is clearly not something HYBE wants to do. A 2 hour concert and the platform crashes after the first 10 minutes. It looks bad on them and it seems that they aren't able to come up with a solution yet. Weverse Live already had a ton of problems as well.

They should have been able to realistically predict that because the concert is for free, the majority of people will use Weverse and not an illegal streaming site. And for anyone saying that there should not be any complaints because no one had to pay for tickets, that's not a good line for an argument. HYBE is not a small company. It's a publicly traded corporation that doesn't lack in resources. I'm not going to feel sorry for them because they had to pay for the concert. They made their bed and then had to lie in it, as we all know the major problems that proceeded the actual concert.

Some last additional thoughts

This may only apply to the impression I got, but the entire concert had such an odd vibe. I had some criticism for PTD back then, but in a way, there was a different energy, it looked like they had fun. Not so much today. It was almost like they had the setlist, they knew they had to go through it and get the job done. At least that's how it transpired on screen. Perhaps the energy in the audience was completely different. I can't really put my finger on it, but this weird feeling stayed with me until the end.

I hope they will release a practice video for Run BTS because it needs to be seen properly. It's the first serious and more complex choreography they had since ON and it looked good.  

[daechwitatamic]

This chapter was a masterpiece. You had me crying literal tears of pain at some moments and my heart absolutely melting at others. How dare you make me experience so many emotions on a Friday! As punishment, you must read my novel of a reaction below.

Wow. Taehyung. Just wow. Let me tell you, his reaction to this situation is worse than I even expected. When Y/N pushed him away, instead of him trying to explain his feelings, he just got so mean. "You said we're the same as we've always been? You're a fucking liar." WOW. I gasped. The man deserves to get slapped. Proof that the kiss wasn't because he cares about her, it's because he's trying to punish her because he has some twisted belief he's been wronged. And the man is also giving me whiplash. His text messages seemed so apologetic and caring, but then when he showed up at their apartment his attitude had done a total one-eighty and he was just so awful to both of them. The man has some serious work on himself to do. 😤

Also this Namjoon is perfection. I could never imagine someone possibly reacting in a more mature, supportive, and helpful way to this entire situation than he has. And honestly Y/N too has been so mature and self-aware, questioning the healthiness and validity of her own self-doubts before acting. It's beautiful to see two characters like this. At every point where I thought things between them were going to veer off into a point of miscommunication or misunderstanding, they worked through it together.

I loved their moments at the pond and especially when Namjoon confessed that Y/N makes him feel like he can just be his unfiltered, nerdy self with her and hasn't felt that way around anyone else. We've seen so much of Namjoon being there for Y/N throughout the story that it was so sweet to see him acknowledge how she's made him feel supported and seen as well, even if it wasn't through any particular hardship.

As for the POVs, I'm so glad you are thinking of writing the Taehyung one, I think this would be so interesting to see and I really want to know what is going on inside that man's head because his actions are... not it. Maybe it's because I have it so down bad for Taehyung, or maybe it's because I have a soft spot for an emotionally illiterate idiot best friend who doesn't realize he's in love with the girl until it's too late (and just read @foxymoxynoona's very different but also amazing story around this concept, "Tell Me What Changed", highly recommend), but I am still holding out hope for some sort of a redemption arc for him. You're right that you do give us a lot of Namjoon's perspective already, and that unlike Taehyung one of the beautiful things about him is that he actually communicates his thoughts and feelings (imagine that!) to Y/N, so we don't have to guess what's going on inside his head. But I think Namjoon's character is someone who is so careful and thoughtful with their words, I'd be curious to get a peek into his raw, unfiltered thoughts. Like what was he really thinking after their steamy night together, on their date, when he was outwardly being so mature about letting her meet up with Taehyung, etc. But I think you answered some of those questions in this chapter as we saw Namjoon process the aftermath of seeing the kiss, so I perhaps spoke too soon! Also I live for the teaser updates almost as much as I do the new chapters. It sounds like Taehyung is hopefully read to be a bit more mature about things, but we'll have to see, I've been fooled before. I cannot believe we only have one chapter left!!! Hope life is treating you well, Jo! <3 🌴

okay listen i'm gonna put this whole response behind a cut because i'm gonna talk a LOT about my characterization of taehyung and it MIGHT delve kind of into spoiler territory so if you want to wait and read what i have to say after NEXT friday that's totally fair.

SPOILERS PROBABLY HAPPENING BELOW OKAY

"punishment" pls i wish every reader did this lol

okay i have a LOT to say about taehyung. if you got this far and didn't expect me to come back with a "yes, but -" about him.... idk what to tell you because i've been doing this since the drop lol

"instead of trying to explain his feelings, he just got mean" so let's talk about this!!!! because you're right! he got nasty! something i tried to write into this taehyung is that he bites when he's scared, hurt, or embarrassed. and in that moment, when his life-long best friend physically pushes him away and curses at him and MEANS it, he's suddenly all three of those at once. like people aren't perfect, and i meant for this taehyung to be very not perfect. but it's real, right? i know people like this. they aren't bad people but they have to work on themselves to fight that instinct! and it's kind of a callback to the chapter when the guys were like "what if she moves on from you" and he was - scared, embarrassed to be called out, and he reacted this way too.

a step sideways for a second - let's examine what he's SAYING though!!!!!!! she told him "we're the same as we've always been". what does that actually mean? i'm still in love with you? i'm still following you around in hope that you'll want me? you're still my whole wide world? maybe taehyung didn't say it NICELY but at the end of the day he's RIGHT - she's lying. he's losing her in real time, watching it happen, and she's lying to his face about it! ANYWAY

back to the original thought - if you look again at the scene in the hallway, there's something i want to point out. Taehyung's nasty - to Namjoon. He is! Super nasty! I am not contesting that AT ALL. But - but. The second reader steps into the hallway all that bite vanishes on the spot and he goes straight to pleading with her to hear him out. even after he swallows the fact that he can't talk to her without an audience (the audience that he is FURIOUS at/about, that he sees as the reason he's losing His Person) once he's talking to HER all he does is beg her to talk alone and apologize again! he actually isn't nasty at all to READER in that moment! Only to Joonie!

As for "proof that the kiss wasn't..." I'm not gonna speak to that part - his motivation - until after next chapter. i promise it will be addressed IN FULL.

listen so we're far enough in the story that i can say this. it was VERY important to me when i wrote this story that the conflict was never between reader and namjoon. once they started shit, they were fine, they were a team, they were gonna handle shit together. in many, many ways, this is really the story of taehyung and reader since that's where the main conflict lies. the story of how their friendship has to navigate this part of their lives that would have been weird and difficult even if it hadn't been namjoon. i almost put tae also on the banner because it is, in my eyes, equally his story - but i didn't want to encourage anyone who thought reader should've picked him lolll.

okay this might be spoilers I guess!!! i just want to say... i don't know that i wrote taehyung a redemption arc? i think i'm leaning to say that i did not? and it's just kind of.... idk in real life not everyone gets redemption redemption? sometimes the best we can do is say 'wow i was wrong for that', apologize, and try to make little babystep changes in our life to try and do better going forward? and that doesn't feel like a ~redemption arc~ necessarily but maybe that's the best we can do sometimes? NOT THAT I'M SAYING THAT'S WHAT WILL HAPPEN FOR TAE >_>

I ALSO CAN'T BELIEVE THERE'S ONLY ONE LEFT asjfhkasfhajkfh i'm UPSET

thank you so so much for coming along this craziness with me, i absolutely live to hear your thoughts, and i'm sorry i am Like This about defending taehyung lmfaoooo

hope you've been well!!!! <3